The Shadow Lord

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SHADOWWIND, BOOK I

THE SHADOWLORD by CHARLOTTE BOYETT-COMPO Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.amberquill.com

The Shadowlord An Amber Quill Press Book This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.amberquill.com

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2004 by Charlotte Boyett-Compo ISBN 1-59279-183-2

Cover Art © 2004 Trace Edward Zaber

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Published in the United States of America

Also by Charlotte Boyett-Compo At Grandma’s Knee

BlackWind BloodWind DarkWind In the Heart of the Wind In the Teeth of the Wind In the Wind’s Eye NightWind Prince of the Wind ShadowWind Shards Anthology WindChance WindFall

The WindLegend’s Saga

Book I: Windkeeper Book II: Windseeker Book III: Windweeper Book IV: Windhealer Book V: Windreaper Book VI: Winddream er

Book VII: Windbeliever Book VIII: Winddeceiver Book IX: Windretriever Book X: Windschem er

Dedication Tina Pratt who had to wait and wait and... Thank You: To the list members at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/WindLegends/join. I appreciate each and every one of you for sticking with me as I spin my other-worldly tales. I hope you enjoy the ShadowWind Trilogy.

PART I Prologue They gathered in the forest well beyond the scope of the keep's battlements. It would not do to have the Elders privy to their meeting. Overhead, the aureate light cast from the swollen moon lit a latticework pathway through the tops of the tall firs. Glistening mist pebbled the air and settled on the skin like a cool silk sleeve. At the entrance to the deeply shadowed forest, a sentry held her position, zealously inspecting each of the new arrivals as they made their way to the meeting place. Far to the north, a lone wolf prayed his devotions to the heavenly body sailing high above and lent an eerie blessing to those gathered. It had never been Aradia Lykopis' intention to lead this ragtag bunch of malcontents. She would have been happy to let others lead, she to follow. She had, after all, much more to lose than any of the other women. Her mother's ire alone, should she find out what her eldest daughter was about, could be enough to cause Aradia untold misery. Aradia knew her group was necessary. The Elders were growing harsher in their laws: making statues to prevent friendly relations with outsiders; ordering it illegal to leave the tribe and seek companionship outside the strict laws of

the Sisterhood. Those who opposed the stringent new dictates had broken away and formed the group that now met in secret beyond the keen eye of the Elders. What they hoped to accomplish had yet to be decided, but each knew there had to be a calmer, easier way to live than by the austere rules that held them virtual prisoners to the Elders' way of thinking. Now there was talk of going to war again, and those agreeing with Aradia's and her group's way of thinking were set against such harsh measures. Peacemakers would be needed to soothe the Elders--if possible--and Aradia had been chosen to lead the way in procuring an end to the talk of war. Sitting on a fallen tree trunk beside the campfire, Aradia stared moodily into the flames, seeing there a future that, to her, did not seem all that reassuring. A foreboding premonition of doom had followed her all day, and she shivered now and again as her uneasiness reminded her the premonition was still there. Idly poking at the fire with a twisted stick, she stirred the chips of glowing scarlet wood, her actions sending burning motes into the night air. Hearing an excited murmur of voices, Aradia glanced up from her morose mind-wanderings to see her half-sister, Kydoime, heading purposely toward her. There was an arrogant jut to Ky's already-firm jaw and a steely glint in her black eyes. Her walk--actually more a strut--spoke volumes for her state of mind. Aradia let out a long, heartfelt, and weary sigh. "What now?" she asked as she came to her feet. There was no preamble, no softening of the blow. There never was. Kydoime Valsca took great pains to be as precise in her deliverance of bad news as her half-sister was circuitous. "The bastardly Rysalians have taken our sister Orithia captive." Gasps of disbelief and groans of horror flitted among those gathered. The word "war" was whispered, and every eye turned hopefully, expectantly to their leader. The news had been as bad as Aradia had expected, but she had not--could not have--anticipated the grief such tidings would cause. "Where was she that they could take her?" "The Rysalians raided the retreat house at Cascadia. Orithia and two of her friends, Marpe and Iphito, were there on pilgrimage." "Oh, by the Goddess, this is bad news, indeed!" someone groaned. "War is imminent now," another said. "Not necessarily. Where were they taken, Ky?" Aradia asked. Already her heart felt heavy with dread. "Iphito managed to escape and get word to us. She says our sister and her friend were taken to the slave market in Asaraba." Ky spat the name as if it were a fetid taste she wished to expel from her mouth. Her lips twisted in an ugly sneer. "I am told slave girls are chained like beasts and led naked through the streets to the jeers of the crowd. They are sold to the highest bidder." Grunts of shock and several moans came from those assembled. Expecting no less from their enemies, Aradia nodded. "Tell me of this place." "The slave pens in Asaraba are filled to overflowing with cages that are little more than pig sties and twice as hellish. Only the slave quarters at Abbadon are worse." "It may not be as bad as it seems, Sisters," Phillipa Telamon said. "Once it is learned that Orithia is of royal blood, she will not be sold on the auction block. She will be kept apart from the others by the Chief Procurer and held at Bennu Keep for ransom." "How do you know so much about this?" Ky asked, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Think you Orithia is the first Amazeen taken captive by the Rysalians?" Phillipa questioned. "How do you think they knew about the retreat house? Do you think that was the first time they had gone scavenging there? Many of our gold sovereigns have lined Rysalian coffers through the years." "Then why isn't the retreat house better protected?" Ky retaliated. "It has been many years since the last time this happened. Perhaps security has become lax. Who knows?" "This is why talk of war has re-emerged in the Council of the Elders," Ky said. "We can not allow such injustices to

continue unabated!" "Our sister is the first taken in many years, Ky," Aradia reminded her. "We need not go to war simply to get her back." Ky turned her full attention to her half-sister. "You are our leader, Lykopis. What course of action must we take?" Aradia flinched. "What doyou suggest?" "Let the Elders handle this," Ulivia Helioposis suggested. "They are accustomed to dealing with men--we are not. The payment of a ransom demand seems the wisest course of action." "It galls me to give the Rysalians anything," Phillipa said firmly. "But what else can we do?" "We send someone after them, of course!" Ky stated. "One woman can slip in and out as swiftly as quicksilver and be done with it. I can not stomach giving one copper rueling to those Rysalian pigs, either!" "How many guards do you think we would have to get past in order to reach her?" Aradia asked. Ky did not dissemble. "One hundred, maybe more." Another groan moved through the women. Such odds seemed all but insurmountable. How could a handful of warriors, no matter how committed, overcome Tribunal Guard diligence? "And you expect one woman to waltz in there unobserved and leave with two others?" Aradia asked. "Aye," Ky agreed without the slightest hint of concern. "And just who would we send?" Phillipa asked. "Obviously, I can not go," Ky replied with stony annoyance. Her dark gaze flicked angrily over Aradia. "And we all know why!" A faint blush of guilt passed over Aradia's tanned complexion. She lowered her head at the shame of what she had been forced to do. "I have asked your forgiveness for that, Kydoime." She glanced at Ky's twisted leg and felt again the keen shame. "Too little, too late." Ky tore her attention from her half-sister and settled it on Phillipa. "I believe we all know who should be the one to do this. Let her lead if she is worthy to do so!" Aradia lifted her head at the sarcastic and spiteful sting of Ky's words. "You mean me?" Aradia stated. "Aye!" "Sending someone to retrieve our sisters would be better than going to war with the Rysalians," another women suggested. "Better to lose three to a Rysalian blade than three hundred, is that it?" Aradia countered. Ky's mouth stretched into a sneer. "Have you no courage? Are you as afraid to help our sisters as you were afraid to take a worthless man's life?" The rest of the women averted their gazes from Aradia's suddenly crimson face. Each woman knew that, by mentioning the shame of Aradia's past indiscretion, Ky had flung a mortal insult. "For shame, Kydoime," Phillipa remonstrated. "We do not speak of such things here." "Where better to speak of them, Telamon?" Ky asked. "Some things are best left unsaid. When will you learn that, child?" "Let her talk," Aradia murmured, although her cheeks still stung from the blow to her pride. "She will until she thinks I've paid the full price for having saved her ungrateful hide."

"Saving my hide?" Ky gasped. "How dare you!" Her hands balled into fists. "You pushed me into a thicket of thorns, the fall breaking my leg in two places!" "Better I pushed you into thorns than have those tracking us get their hands on you," Aradia defended. "You know where you would have ended up had you been captured!" "Thanks to you, I can no longer walk tried and true upon this earth nor sit astride a mount without being in brutal pain. It was notyour bones that did not heal, nor is ityour fate to be pitied by all who look upon you with distaste!" "Better being lame than regarded as spoiled goods," Aradia returned. "I would gladly trade places with you. Had the tables been turned and the men came after me instead of you, would you have returned the favor and saved my life as I saved yours?" "I am my own woman, Lykopis," Ky snarled, her lips skinned back from her teeth like a wolf at bay before a hunter. "I did not need you to offer up your sacrifice to our enemies!" Aradia's face turned hard. "Do you think I enjoyed having to do it?" "Who lived in the lap of luxury, her every whim catered to?" Angry glints lit up Ky's dark glare. "Who slept between satin sheets and had the ear of the Diabolusian prince? Who should have had her neck kissed by an Amazeen labrys for consorting with the enemy?" Aradia stiffened, the insult going deeper than any Ky had ever aimed at her. "Be careful what you say to me," Aradia warned, her teeth flashing in the light from the crackling campfire. "I will tolerate only so much abuse from you." "You had the Diabolusian prince in your sights! Your weapon was at the ready, the arrow nocked. It was an easy shot, yet you lowered your bow and let the bastard live. That you can not deny." "To keepyou safe," Phillipa put in. "Aradia gave up her freedom so you would be free to stand there and insult her. You owe your sister a debt you know you can never repay. That is why you thrust insults at her every chance you get! She must bear the memories of that day, yet you pour salt into her wound. That is dishonorable." "I could have protected myself!" Ky shouted. "You were this far"--Phillipa held her thumb and forefinger half an inch apart--"from being raped many times, then having your throat slit. If Aradia had not drawn the attention of the Diabolusian leader away from you, your ashes would be scattered over Amazeen!" Ky glared. "I could have taken him in hand-to-hand combat. My death was not a foregone conclusion!" She turned her angry stare to Aradia. "At least not to me, it wasn't!" "Your leg was broken, the thigh bone sticking through your flesh," Phillipa reminded the young woman. "How can you boast that you could have fought? By the Goddess, Ky, you could not even stand!" "And what would you have fought him with?" Aradia asked. "You had no weapon and were surrounded by four men. Had I not called out, they would have stumbled upon your hiding place and ended your life before I could have drawn another arrow." "It was a hard choice Ardy made that night," Euryleia Brae, Aradia's best friend, said. "She did the only thing she could do. She is our leader and we should never question her decisions." "Some leader," Ky scoffed, sneering. "How hard was it to throw herself into the arms of the Diabolusian and allow him to use her as he did?" "I did not throw myself into his arms," Aradia said, jaw clenched. "He ran me down." "You weren't running very fast, were you?" Ky questioned. "How dare you make such an accusation?" Phillipa flung at her. "She gave up much for you, you ungrateful pup! It took bravery to--" Ky threw back her head and laughed; an ugly sound. "It took a slavering male and a sniveling coward who knew her womanhood could save her hide from a Diabolusian stake if she let her captor thrust deep enough and hard enough

inside her! Lykopis is no leader. She is a whore!" A concerted intake of breath among the other listeners drew all sound from the clearing. Women stepped back, away from Ky and her half-sister, expecting trouble. Aradia stood still, infinitely aware of the charged atmosphere. She felt the women's eyes on her, heard the nervous sounds as their breaths returned to them in anticipation of her reprisal. She looked into Ky's hostile face, saw gloating in the stare that fused with her own, and understood--as she never had before--just how much Ky resented the sacrifice she had made for her three years before. For the first time, she saw the guilt in her half-sister's face and knew Ky was as ashamed of the outcome of that fateful night as she, herself, was. "You are right," Aradia said, surprising Ky. "I am not nearly the woman you are. Perhaps you should relieve me of the responsibility of these warriors and take it for yourself. It takes a woman who has known the fire of the cauldron and survived it to lead. You have given up much, so you should be the one to whom the rest of us come for help." Phillipa sat back on her haunches and stared with pride at Aradia. There could have been no better way to diffuse the situation than the one she had used. Ky spoke a good fight--often started one--but it was always Aradia to whom she ran for protection, Aradia to whom Ky went when she needed advice and help. And despite her repeated vocal condemnations of Aradia and all she had been forced to do and endure for the sake of their family, Ky could not deny who was the better woman. "You accepted the mantle of our leadership!" Ky snapped as though it were an accusation. "Aye, but I am not worthy of the honor," Aradia replied. "Have you not as much as said so? My only use was through my body." A wry look passed over her face. "Thank the gods I knew how to use it to our advantage, eh?" Ky drew herself up, straightening her shoulders beneath her heavy leather vest. A muscle jumped in her jaw, but when she spoke, no condemnation laced her voice. "I did not say we did not trust you as our leader," Ky answered in a begrudging tone, as if knowing she'd gone too far. Her worry over Orithia's plight had likely pushed her beyond the bounds of sanity. "We've no need for another." Aradia bowed her head at what, for Ky, passed as an apology. "If that is what each of you want..." A chorus of "ayes" came from the women. "Then I shall remain as your leader for as long as I am needed and useful." "And Orithia?" Ky pressed, loath to relinquish her anger. Expectant glances shifted to Aradia, who smiled for the first time that evening. "I'll go after her. Perhaps an influential Rysalian will find me as appealing as the Diabolusian did and I can use him to help me retrieve our sisters." Ky's face turned a darker crimson, and her white teeth flashed in anger. "We can not allow her to go alone to that heathen land," Okyale Kreousa said. "Nor will we," Phillipa agreed. "We will accompany Aradia." Aradia shook her head. "I can not ask it of you, Sisters. It is my place to go after Orithia. I--" "The matter is settled," Phillipa proclaimed. "We will go with you as far as the outskirts of the city. We will be your eyes and ears. If you need help, we will be there." "I, too, will go," Ky said. When the others turned to stare at her, she raised her chin. "If nothing more, I can hold the horses." "When you can't even ride?" Okyale murmured. Ky's eyes turned flint hard. "I will do what I have to do. Don't worry about me, Kreousa!" "Worrying about you never crossed my mind." Aradia exchanged a look with Phillipa. She knew the older woman understood the dangers involved in going into Rysalia. It would be necessary to hide behind the camouflage of disguise, something they had done often when

traveling outside Amazeen lands. But there was always the chance a keen eye would see beneath the subterfuge. "Are you up to this, Ardy?" Phillipa asked. "Do I have a choice?" Phillip drew in a long breath. "You can always send someone else." "Aye," Euryleia agreed. "Let us draw straws." Aradia shook her head. "It is my place to do this. If one of us is to be caught, best it is the spoiled one." Phillipa cursed lewdly, drawing all eyes to her. She had been a nun before escaping the infamous convent at Galrath, and each time she mouthed such words, it unnerved her listeners. "You are not the only one of us who is no longer a maiden, Aradia." "Well, you certainly can not enter the fortress," Ky chuckled hatefully. "As ugly as you are, who could you seduce, Telamon?" Her face aflame from the insult, Phillipa put a hand up to the savage scars that gouged her face. Keenly aware of the disfigurement placed there by a Hasdu blade when she was a young girl, the reminder cut as deep as the steel once had. With tears pricking her eyes, she looked away. "You know, Ky," Okyale said, "there may come a day when you're going to open your mouth one time too many and someone is going to relieve you of that offensive instrument you call a tongue!" "The Rysalians do that as a matter of course with women they wish to bring to heel," Euryleia commented. Aradia grabbed Ky's long braid, twisted it around her wrist, and viciously pulled back her head. "Apologize! Right now!" "I meant nothing by it," Ky whined, not daring to reach up to extract her hair for fear Aradia would pull harder. As insensitive as the young woman was about the feelings of others, she was very sensitive when it came to her own welfare. "I said apologize!" "I am sorry, Phillipa," Ky whimpered. "Truly I am." Aradia let go of Ky's hair. She reached out to Phillipa, but the older woman stepped back, not wanting her friend's pity. Understanding Phillipa's pride, Aradia let the matter drop. She turned to the others. "I think it best we leave now before the sun is up." "Or before our mothers come looking for us," Okyale said with a sigh. "Shall I go back to the keep and get the disguises we used last time?" Euryleia asked. "They will hide us better than the ones we used in Serenia." "Aye, the robes of the pilgrims, wasn't it?" Aradia returned. "Egad, those shapeless sacks of wool?" Okyale asked with a shudder. "They made me itch for a month after I shed them." "I haven't washed those enough yet," Phillipa mumbled. "They still smell like the offal we smeared on the hems." Aradia grinned. "That may be to our advantage. No one will get too close." "Terrific," Okyale grumbled. "I can itchand stink. And a delightful time was had by all." "I don't have a disguise," Ky complained. When the others ignored her, she folded her arms over her chest and pouted. "What will we do for rations?" Okyale questioned.

"We can buy what we need along the way," Aradia replied. "Euryleia, go to my chambers. Bring back as much as you can carry. The sooner we get going, the sooner we can set our sisters free." "Ifwe can," Phillipa whispered. "We will," Ky said, and once again, no one looked her way. "Go home, Kydoime," Aradia said. "You will be of no use to us with your leg." "You will not let me go with you?" "What good would you be?" With her eyes narrowed, her face hard, Aradia looked her half-sister in the eye. "As ugly as your body is, who couldyou seduce, Valsca?" Ky gasped, never having had such words said to her by anyone, leastwise Aradia, who was always mannerly. Seeing the brittle gleam in Aradia's glacial blue eyes, knowing her as she did, Ky realized it would do no good to argue. She nodded, turned, and headed toward the keep. "Will she tell her mother what we're up to?" Euryleia inquired. "Not if she knows what's good for her," Okyale stated. "She won't tell." Phillipa raised her head and shook herself, ridding her of the pain that had momentarily clouded her world. "She will not want it known she was involved if we fail, nor will she want it bandied about that Ardy refused to allow her to go. If she is nothing else, the little bitch is prideful." "Remember what the Midworlder told us?" Aradia asked, reminding the others of the sailor from Odess who had washed up on shore after a storm. "'Pride goes before a fall,'" Phillipa replied with a smile. "Aye, and Ky's fall is overdue."

Chapter 1 Aradia rode in silence. The night air had turned colder, and though the foul-smelling robe made her eyes water, it kept her warm. She ignored the scratchy stiff wool and concentrated on breathing through her mouth so she would inhale as few of the noxious fumes rising from her apparel as possible. Now and again, snatches of conversation from the other four women made her question the advisability of what they were doing. "It's not wise to second guess yourself, Ardy," Phillipa whispered. Stretching in the saddle, Aradia rolled her head from side to side to relieve the tension in her neck. "I am thinking the others were right in deciding not to come with us. Perhaps Ulivia was right and we should have let my mother ransom Orithia." Phillipa shrugged then brought a perfumed handkerchief up to her nose and spoke through it. "I am not saying they were right or wrong not to join us, but I don't have their conviction that your mother will be able to intervene and get our sisters back by diplomatic means." "No, that's not going to happen. I should know better than anyone." "If we wait until your mother can open diplomatic channels between Amazeen and Rysalia, we might be toothless and

crooked over like summer squash." "She's going to be furious that I am doing this." "Do you care?" "Not really. It doesn't seem to matter what I do or don't do. I can't get anything right with her. Mother and I have been at loggerheads since I came back from Deseo." At the mention of the three years Aradia had spent in the Diabolusian capital, both women grew quiet. Aradia pulled an amber pendant from inside the bodice of her short gown. She stroked the faceted honey-gold surface of the charm that hung between alternately strung jet and amber beads, then enclosed the pendant in her palm, molding it lovingly with her fingers. Phillipa looked away. Watching Aradia caress the teardrop-shaped pendant irritated her, for it was a habit Aradia indulged in more than Phillipa thought healthy. "She blames herself for what you had to endure, Ardy," Phillipa, the same age as Aradia's mother, commented at last. "And I've never understood why. She did everything she could to have me released." Aradia's gaze softened. "He ignored her every attempt. It would have taken a full-scale war, and even then, I doubt we would have won. He had the might of both Necroman and Serenia behind him." "At least he was good to you." "He was very good to me." Aradia looked at the firefly embedded within the amber, then tucked the pendant into her bodice. "Had he not been forced to marry the Viragonian snow slug, I might still be with him." "Can you blame the woman for not wanting you around?" Phillipa asked. "If you had been in her place, would you have allowed him to keep his mistress, as treasured as you were by him?" "I would have gouged out her eyes, pulled out every hair on her head, and sliced away her love pearl. Then he could have kept her." "Be thankful your Viragonian ice princess did nothing more than require her new husband to send you back to Amazeen. You could have wound up in the love dens of the common soldiers." Phillipa's voice quivered. "Or locked in the cold hell of Galrath." "He would not have allowed that to happen." "Who knows what a man will do once he loses interest, Ardy," Phillipa said, her words dredging up memories of a past best left buried. Aradia shook her head, flinging away her memories of Prince Viento Sabina and the many nights of quiet sighs and loving touches in the keep at Devil's Nest. He had not only made her his woman, he had taught her what it meant to be cherished by a man, a concept unknown to the Amazeens. "If the Goddess so wills it and we can't get to Orithia, perhaps she will come under the protection of a man as honorable and gentle as was the man who held me captive." "These are Hasdu of which you speak. There is no honor among them, lecherous fiends that they are." "You and I both know if Mother does not meet the demands the Rysalians put forth, Orithia will be sold to the highest bidder." "How high is high?" "Mother offered five-hundred-thousand gold sovereigns for me, but he responded by saying ten times that much would never be enough." Phillipa made no comment. Sometimes the pride in Aradia's voice when she spoke of the Diabolusian prince made her uneasy. Like those who rode beside them, Phillipa could not understand how Aradia could have fond memories of her imprisonment, nor why to this day--five years after her ordeal began--the young woman would not say the prince's name. Not for the first time did Phillipa wonder if Aradia had fallen in love with her captor. "I don't know Marpe? Are you acquainted with her?" Aradia asked.

A frown drew the heavy scars on Phillipa's face downward. "I know her all too well. She is a wild girl, prone to violence. Her mother has had trouble with her since the day she took her first step. Frankly, I cannot imagine why Marpe and Orithia are good friends. They are as different as day and night." "Orithia is a beautiful girl, and gentle. I am praying she does not fight and wind up brutalized." Phillipa smiled. "At least we don't have to worry about her in that regard. She'll be too frightened to cause trouble." **** "Kneel." The imperious voice was like a whiplash laid across her back, but she did not flinch, and did not obey the strident command. "Kneel!" Orithia Valsca's blue eyes narrowed. Her jaw clenched tightly, the muscle in her right cheek jumping with impotent fury. "Kneel!" That one word was a shriek of outrage at her stubborn refusal to bow to an authority she did not deign to recognize. Jaelan Ben-Ashaman stood with his arms folded and watched as their prisoner--standing so rigidly immobile before the Tribunal--was hit from behind, the heavy pike slamming viciously into the backs of her legs to send her crashing to her knees on the marble floor. He tensed, but he knew better than to interfere. It would make the Amazeen's punishment that much more severe. Orithia fell. The jolt made her teeth click together over the inside of her lower lip, and brought a grunt of annoyance as she tasted her own blood. "If you will not comply on your own, woman, you will be made to do so!" the Chief Tribunalist promised. Orithia's angry glower lifted to the man. Incapable of pushing herself up from the floor, for her wrists were chained behind her back and her ankles likewise heavily manacled with thick argentine links, she was compelled to do as ordered. But her expression left no doubt of her contempt. "You would be well advised to show respect for your betters, woman," another Tribunalist warned, "else you will regret it." Orithia's venomous stare shifted to the elderly speaker. For the first time since being dragged before the Tribunal, she spoke. "I'll not show one ounce of respect for this so-called Tribunal. You bastards have no dominion over me! I am an Amazeen princess!" His dark eyes wide, Chief Tribunalist Abasi Ksathra pushed back from the Tribunal bench and stood. He adjusted the sleeves of his long red robe, then passed behind the three Tribunalists on his left to descend the dais steps. With a tight smile on his thin lips, he walked to where Orithia was forced to kneel. "You dare to call us bastards?" "Aye," Orithia spat, the one word a vile insult in itself. "You are nothing more than that to me!" She started to say something else, but Ksathra's savage slap stunned Orithia, almost knocking her down. "Open your mouth once more to insult us, woman," he sneered, "and I will have your tongue removed. King Hasani might well thank us in the long run, though I am sure you can be taught how to pleasure him with that wickedly sharp tool!" "Shall I try her first?" Tribunalist Sefu Yazid quipped. A wave of laughter came from those gathered. Heads moved together as the men joked among themselves. Orithia turned her face from the man standing over her and spat a mouthful of blood. When she looked up at her tormentor, she saw wry amusement on his wrinkled face. That look did nothing to calm her raging fury. She growled with frustration, which seemed to amuse the Chief Tribunalist.

"You would tear out my throat if you could, wouldn't you?" Ksathra asked. "With the greatest of pleasures," Orithia swore through clenched teeth. "Hang you by your worthless heels and drain you dry!" She swept her eyes over the other six Tribunalists. "Every last one of you black-hearted heathens!" Ksathra grinned. "Fortunately, you will never be given the chance." He cupped Aradia's chin, anchoring her face so he could look into her hostile eyes. "After all, you are at our mercy here, Amazeen." Despite her subservient position at his feet and the bonds that impeded her, Orithia's mindless fury felt like a red-hot poker prodding her common sense. She snarled, then lunged forward, struggling to throw herself on the Chief Tribunalist, wanting nothing more than to wipe that self-satisfied smirk from his twitching lips. "Oh, hell," Jaelan Ben-Ashaman sighed as he motioned two of the palace guards to stop the enraged woman warrior. The guards moved in tandem like flowing liquid silver and caught their prisoner by the arms to keep her from falling face down. They jerked her away from the Chief Tribunalist, although her thrashing about proved to be more violent and effective than the men could have anticipated. It was all they could do to keep her at bay. Jaelan sighed again, rolled his eyes to the heavens, and stepped forward, bending over their captive. "Be still or the lash will be brought, woman!" he warned in a low voice meant for only her ears. His words, however, acted as a goad to Orithia's injured pride. Her bellow shook the crystal chandeliers. "Lash me, then, you craven Rysalian bully!" she snarled, struggling uselessly between the two seven-foot-tall muscular Hasdu who held her. Blood-streaked saliva dribbled down her chin as she cursed. "Let your precious Hasani Jaleem know I do not come willingly to his bed! He will have to hog tie me and mount me, for I willnever lay a hand to his ugly ass of my own accord!" A gasp of indignation moved through the crowd. Angry eyes turned to the Chief Tribunalist. "Can you not curb her, Ksathra?" an older Tribunalist drawled. "If she were mine, I would know how to break her of this nasty habit of insulting her betters." The men in the Tribunal Hall nodded. "Lash her, Ksathra," another suggested. "She needs to be taught a lesson in manners. Let her understand who owns her and to whom she owes her obedience!" "You donot own me!" Orithia shouted, struggling savagely with the two men whose combined strengths far surpassed her own. "You are nothing more than thieves! Rapists and murderers and--" She would have flung another insult had Jaelan not slapped her mouth. Dragging her against him, he anchored her to his hip with his free hand. "Be quiet!" Her pale eyes shot sparks of molten fire at the man hunkered beside her. So potent was her fury, a red haze of insanity had begun to tint her vision. She mumbled dire threats beneath the constriction of Jaelan's callused hand. She bucked against her captors in an effort to free her mouth, and sought to sink her teeth into the palm. "Stop this!" Jaelan hissed. His hand tightened cruelly over Orithia's lips, savagely pressing her teeth into the tender flesh of her lips. "You are trying my patience." "She would try the patience of a saint if Rysalia had any," someone joked. Laughter moved over the crowd. "I told you, you should not have allowed this one to live, Ksathra," Rashidi Thole, the eldest Tribunalist, injected. "You should have executed her as you did the other one." "She had no hand in killing the Chief Procurer," Ksathra reminded them. "It was not her hand on the dagger." "No, but she is no less savage than her Amazeen sister," Thole said. "She sports the tattoo on her ankle for a reason, Lord Ksathra. She has killed. Do we really want to send such a viper to the King's seraglio? Send her to the chopping block and be done with it. She will trouble us no more." Jaelan glanced at the woman's legs, bent to the side as she leaned rigidly against him. The tattoo on her right ankle was of a nocked crossbow, the head of the quarrel tipped in vermeil. Legend stated that only an Amazeen who had killed her first man had the privilege of sporting such a wicked symbol.

"Give me her head for my collection, Milord. I have many Amazeen pretties on a shelf in my bath house where they watch me relieve myself each morning!" Hoots of merriment followed the unknown speaker's grizzly words. Ksathra glanced uneasily at the men and felt their annoyance. The wrong word, the wrong action, and the woman's life might well be forfeit. Jaelan felt the same way, for he lowered his voice and spoke to the Chief Tribunalist. "This is getting dangerous, Your Grace. Perhaps she should be drugged. They will be coming for her this eve, and we do not want her battered when she is to be presented to King Hasani." Ksathra watched the Amazeen's brows collide, saw her try to shake her head. "I think you may be right, Commander." To be drugged was something Orithia feared. Not to be able to have free thought and movement cut a deep swath of horror through her being. These men could do anything to her while she was under the influence of the Rysalian Keeper's hellish pharmacoepia of mind-altering brews, and she would have no way to protect herself. She stilled, pleading the only way she could with the man keeping her silent to spare her the ordeal of the Keeper's needles--with her eyes. Jaelan looked into that frightened blue gaze. "What choice have you given us?" he asked, hardening his heart to the fear he saw building in her pretty face. He removed his hand from her mouth. "You brought this on yourself." "Don't..." Orithia began, only to be cut off as a squat man in a dark blue robe stepped up to her. She glared hotly at the Keeper and started to curse him, too, but she didn't get the chance. From out of nowhere, it seemed, the Keeper produced a gleaming steel needle, its end dripping with amber fluid. Aradia's throat closed against the sight. Without speaking, the Keeper wrapped his left hand around her right arm and jabbed the needle into the thick muscle. "Sleep soundly," Jaelan said as she turned accusing eyes to him. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" she managed to ask before the fiery payload from the hollow needle rushed through her shoulder and spread insidiously up her neck and into the neuropath ways of her brain, burning a painful trail as it went. Jaelan shrugged as he stepped back. "No,Anide , I am not." Heat washed throughout Orithia body. "Damn," she mumbled as her legs turned to rubber. Vaguely she wondered what the Rysalian wordanide meant. Had he cursed her again? The guards tightened their grip as she sagged like a rag doll between them. Her vision began to waver, and she stared unseeingly at Ksathra's ruddy face. The undulating blackness crept along the periphery of her vision, expanding toward the center as her hearing became hollow and tinny and the faces of her abusers moved far, far away. "No woman will be allowed to challenge the authority of the Tribunal," Ksathra said in that stern voice she had come to hate. Lassitude set in, a calm, tranquil peace that made Orithia smile despite the nagging fear that things had gone irretrievably wrong in her world, that she was in deep trouble. She shrugged. What difference did it make now? **** Kathleen McGregor looked up as a sound broke her concentration. Laying aside the shirt she was mending, she got up from her chair and walked to the double doors of the solarium. She opened the portals and ventured onto the narrow balcony that jutted out over the gardens. The balcony, enclosed from top to bottom with ornate scrolled ironwork resembling a fancy cage, allowed a cooling breeze to waft into Kathleen's chamber. So close were the intertwined scrolls, not even her slender hand could be wedged between them. The intruding sound came again. She raised her head toward the heavens to watch her pet raven soar on the thermals. His angry caw warned her that visitors approached.

"From Asaraba?" she asked, though her lips never moved. "Nay, Lady. They are from Dahrenia,"the raptor answered."They bring the Prince's new concubine." Kathleen frowned. She put a hand on the iron rail. "Is Lord Jaelan accompanying them?" "Aye." Sorrow sent a shaft of pain through Kathleen's heart. She turned from the balcony and entered her room. After closing the doors behind her, she returned to her chair, took up her sewing, and sat down. But with the next stitch she made, tears filled her vision and blurred the fabric. With a sigh, she laid the sewing in her lap and bowed her head. "You are still having the dreams?" Kathleen nodded. "His destiny is entwined with that of the Amazeen." Kathleen did not reply, nor did she look up as her companion came to stand beside her. "Sometimes dreams are only dreams, Milady." "Not mine." The high priest placed a gnarled hand on the young woman's clasped fingers. "Put him out of your mind, child." He flinched as two of her tears fell on his mottled flesh. "She will make his life miserable," Kathleen said. "She will make everyone's life miserable." The priest sighed. "Mine more than most." Kathleen looked up, her eyes full of hurt. "Yet your misery will be like a drop in a well compared to the sea of despair he will know at her hands, Your Grace." High Priest Rajkon Xanth watched with pity welling in his aged heart as the girl covered her face with her hands and gave in to her grief. Clumsily, he patted her shoulder, not knowing what else to do. He looked around, wishing someone else were in the room with them, someone who could help ease the burden of her hopelessness. As Kathleen's confessor, he was the only male allowed to be alone with her, and she was the only female at the Monastery of the Sands at Alladoni. He was about to offer her another word of consolation, but a knock at the door saved him. Closing his eyes in gratitude for the interruption, he answered the summons. Sekhem Neter, the Chief Guard, looked past the priest and settled his hawk-like glare on the sobbing girl. He grunted with displeasure, then turned his attention to Xanth. "The entourage from Dahrenia is here, Your Grace. The Master wishes for that one to be brought to the assembly hall." Rajkon nodded. "I will bring her shortly, Captain." Neter's jaw tightened. "See she is properly veiled," he snapped. "All will be as it should be, Captain." The priest moved to the shut the door, but the Chief Guard clasped the wooden panel to stay its closing. He locked gazes with Rajkon. "And make equally sure she does not speak unless spoken to." Rajkon raised his chin. "Are these commands from the Master, or are these your suggestions, Captain?" "They arenot suggestions, Your Grace," the Chief Guard sneered. "They are myorders to you!" "Shall I suggest to you where to put your orders, Captain?" Neter's eyes flared. He released his hold on the door and strode away. "Insufferable bastard," Rajkon mumbled as he closed the door.

"He is a dangerous man," Kathleen whispered. "And one day will cause Jaelan much trouble." "I've no doubt of that." Rajkon turned to face her. He shook his head at her tear-ravaged face. "Go and make yourself presentable." "Why?" she asked, pushing wearily to her feet. "No one will see me behind the veil." "Humor me, child." Kathleen smiled, the first smile to touch her face in several weeks. She cared deeply for the priest, for among all the Brothers, he alone was her friend. Though many grudgingly respected her for the gift the Gods had bestowed upon her, most despised her and loudly objected to her presence. A handful actively plotted against her, but so far she had the protection of the Master, and while she did, she feared little for her safety. "Go, I said!" he insisted, shooing her toward the cloakroom at the south end of the solarium. "We can not keep the Master waiting." While the young woman washed her face, Rajkon walked to the double doors and looked out. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back and searched for the black shape he knew must be about. When he caught sight of Sable, Kathleen's raven, perched high in the branches of the oak that shaded the garden, he nodded. "Protect her, Dark One," Rajkon prayed. "She is the hope of our kingdom." The raven bounded from the branch and landed on the balcony railing, its talons gripping the iron bar. Cocking its blue-black head to one side then the other, it seemed to be studying Rajkon through the glass. Seemingly satisfied with its findings, it shook its glossy black feathers, then lifted its foot and began preening, dismissing the human specimen. Rajkon chuckled and turned away. He knew the Black Ascendancy would protect Its own, and no manner of coaxing from him would alter the decree of the Gods and Their ladies. "I am ready, Your Grace." The priest held out his hand. "I shall be at your side, child." Kathleen took his purple-veined hand. "And I am grateful for your company, Milord." Rajkon looked over the thick gray gauze that covered her from head to shoulder. To hide such delicate beauty behind the ugliness of the veil was a sacrilege. But to the majority of his Brothers, a woman's beauty held no allure, and the sight of a womanly face offended. "On this day of days," Kathleen told her friend and confessor as they left the solarium, "the veil hides more than my face." Though he was not surprised that she had read his thoughts, Rajkon was nevertheless unnerved, as always. He, as well as most of the Brothers, possessed powers of the mind, but none as great--or as successful--as Kathleen McGregor's. He probed her mind but could not pluck her thoughts from the ether. "What else will the veil hide?" "The tears I have shed and will continue to shed for as long as I live. Tears for Jaelan Ben-Ashaman." Rajkon flinched. "Try not to dwell on these things, child. There is nothing you can do to help him." Kathleen kept her mind closed to the casual prying of her friend. She had learned early on to securely lock her thoughts so they would not be "read" by the men in the fortress. It was easy for her to do, but often left her drained to the point of exhaustion. She had lethal enemies among the Brothers. Those who hated her were consistent with their mind probing and unrelenting in their quest to find her weaknesses. Protecting herself took all her conscience effort and even carried over into nighttime when she had to place herself in a deep trance to keep her secrets safe from mind intruders while she slept. The Brothers never allowed her to rest. "When will they be leaving for Abbadon Fortress?" she asked. "Three days from today. They will arrive on the Feast of Aluvial."

Kathleen lowered her head. "A day of celebration even for a slave." Rajkon frowned. "Jaelan is far from being a slave, child." "He was sold into slavery as surely as I stand here. Would you like to be sold to the highest bidder, Milord? Sold to a despot like Hasani Jaleem?" Rajkon stopped, took her arms in his trembling grasp, and shook her. "Stop this." It was on the tip of Rajkon's tongue to remind her that King Hasani was her sovereign lord and should not be spoken of with such disrespect. But technically, that was untrue. Kathleen was Serenian, bound by blood to the ruler of that land, King Ciernan McGregor, her kinsman. Instead, he shook her again, but gently this time. "Nothing good will come of this obsession you have with Jaelan Ben-Ashaman, child," the priest stated. "He is beyond help, so pray stop arguing about it. I am sick to death of hearing about the ill that has befallen him. I, for one, will be glad when he arrives safely within the walls of Abbadon and his name silenced on your wayward tongue." Kathleen started to protest, but the stern look that rarely visited Rajkon Xanth's face made her think twice about voicing her opinion. She clamped her teeth together, curled her hands into fists, and stood silently. "Dreams are often only dreams," the old man muttered. "They are not always prophecies." Mine are, Kathleen thought, careful to not let the old priest "hear." Rajkon drew in a long breath, then exhaled slowly, allowing his pent up nervousness to escape. "Be the obedient child I know you can be, Kathleen, and do not draw attention to yourself in the ceremonial hall. If the Master asks you to speak, be circumspect in what you say and respectful in the way you say it. Is that clear?" She lowered her head, not trusting herself to speak for fear of angering her friend. "Meekness does not become you," Rajkon said with a chuckle. She shrugged. "And neither does arrogance. Behave," he warned and started down the corridor. She followed a few steps behind the old priest as they made their way to the ceremonial hall. It would not do for a Brother to see her walking beside Rajkon as his equal. Despite her position within the fortress, there would be a severe punishment for such presumptiveness. She waited until the guards opened the tall black doors and Rajkon entered before walking to the doorway. She studiously avoided looking at the door panels with their obscene engravings of naked men cavorting together in lewd postures. She kept her gaze directed to the golden throne upon which the Master would take his lawful place. "You may enter," a guard said. Kathleen inclined her head in acknowledgment. As she joined Rajkon at the north end of the room, she became aware--as she always did--of the hatred aimed her way. She could feel the anger, the mistrust, like a sentient life form crawling over her skin. A chill ran down her spine as she passed one man in particular; his hooded eyes stabbed her with raging intensity. Coming to stand directly behind Rajkon, she felt thankful for the old man's sponsorship. When the gong sounded for those assembled to prostrate themselves at the arrival of the Master, she sank to her knees, her head bowed, her eyes squeezed shut. As he passed where she knelt, Kathleen felt the Arch-Deacon Jahannum Dahur stop beside her. She tensed, knowing she would experience his attempt to pry open her sealed mind. When it came, the invasion was as unsettling as it always was, and when the Master failed to breech her mental defenses, she felt his annoyance. "You are well, Chosen One?" Dahur inquired. "I am, Your Eminence," Kathleen answered, digging her nails into her palms. "Such a waste." The Master sighed. "It is beyond my ability to understand why the Black Ascendancy would grant such power to a female." It was always the same for Kathleen. The man who ruled the Brothers would stare silently at her for a minute or two. This day was no different.

As Dahur moved on, Kathleen allowed a heavy breath to escape her parted lips. Dahur terrified her, sickened her. She had seen him order men to a hideous death, and had once witnessed a ritual so vile, so evil, it had caused her to take to her bed for many days. That Dahur had immense powers of his own, was capable of utterly destroying her if he could get past her mental barricade, was ever at the forefront of her mind. Above all the other men at the fortress, Dahur was her worst nightmare. His brother, the Prelate of Justice Gehenna Dahur, was her worst enemy. "Rise!" The rustle of wool robes, the creaking of joints, and the clearing of throats shifted through the room as the Brothers got to their feet. But Kathleen remained in her respectful posture, knowing not to rise until she was given leave to do so. She had learned long ago to ignore the pain in her knees. "You may rise, Chosen One," Dahur announced. Surprised she had not been forced to stay in her cramped position as long as usual, Kathleen thankfully stood, her hands clasped tightly at her waist, her head down. "Come here, woman," the Master ordered. Without delay, she hastened to the throne, staring at the black marble floor beneath her feet. In her peripheral vision, she saw robes moving out of her way and knew these men would rather be lashed than allow her clothing to touch theirs. She stopped at the step that led to the dais and waited. "You have been here how long now?" "All my life, Your Eminence," she replied. "And how old are you?" A shudder ran through Kathleen, but she did not lift her head. "I am thirty-seven, Your Eminence." "You know you will never leave this place, do you not?" "I have been told so, Your Eminence." A murmur came from those gathered. "But you do not believe you will live out your days behind these walls?" "If it is the Gods' will, I--" "That isnot what he asked," Gehenna Dahur interrupted. "Perhaps I did not understand him, Lord Dahur," she said and could hear Rajkon's irritated hiss. "Would you repeat what he asked?" Utter silence filled the room for what, to Kathleen, seemed a long time. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, her nails as deep into the flesh of her palms as she could stab them. "Look at me!" Gehenna thundered. Kathleen lifted her head. Through the thick gauze, she saw fury mottling Lord Dahur's ugly round face. "You would play word games with me, woman?" he shouted. "No, Your Grace. I--" "Silence!" Once more, the lack of sound felt like that of a tomb. The eerie stillness made the hair stir on Kathleen's arms, and a clamminess trickled down her spine. "I assure you, woman, you willnever venture past these walls alive," Gehenna Dahur said. "The Brotherhood will

never allow you to utilize the forbidden powers you possess. Is that clear?" "Perfectly clear, Lord Dahur." "If it had been left up to me, I would have drowned you at birth upon seeing the twin crescents in your palm!" Her nails gouging into the telltale birthmarks, Kathleen remained still. "That is enough, Gehenna," the Master said. "Go back to Rajkon, woman." Kathleen curtsied to the Master, and hurriedly backed away, knowing if she turned her back on him, they would beat her to within an inch of her life. "Where is the Amazeen?" the Master asked. "She was taken to the seraglio, Your Grace," Gehenna answered. "A fitting place for a whore." "I am told the King's Commander of Security is with the entourage," Gehenna purred in his brother's ear. The Master's brow quirked." So, Jaelan is here." "And as handsome as ever," Gehenna quipped. Both men laughed. As the doors of the ceremonial hall closed before her, Kathleen's heart leapt to her throat. The Brothers hated Jaelan Ben-Ashaman and had done everything they could to wrest him from the King's protection. That they had failed had fostered within their sect a vicious determination to eventually succeed.

Chapter 2 Jaelan laid his head against the cool marble rim of the bathing pool, closed his eyes, and tried to relax. He was bone-tired, angry with himself, and plagued by a variety of physical problems that irritated him more than they should. A wicked headache pulsed above his right eye; his right shin throbbed; deep scratches on his arms and chest stung as the warm water lapped against his body; and the dull ache in his groin was a vivid reminder that he hadn't been as careful as was normally his wont. "I see you've added a few more battle scars to your already-abused body." Jaelan opened one eye, looked at the one who had spoken, and snorted. "Go to hell, Aluino." "All in good time, my friend," Aluino Vasquez said with a chuckle. "All in good time." He hunkered down beside Jaelan. "I heard she made you speak a few octaves higher for a while there. Is that true?" A long sigh came from Jaelan, but he refrained from relieving his friend's curiosity. He licked his swollen lip. "You know," Aluino said, pulling off his boots and socks and rolling up his pant legs, "I can't remember the last time I saw you with a black eye. Do you recall when it was?" "By the Prophet! Your feet stink, 'Lui!" Jaelan scooted away from the offensive stench, only partially extinguished when Aluino sunk his feet in the water.

"I've been riding most of the day," Aluino replied, wiggling his toes. "You didn't answer me." "I can't even breathe with that foul odor permeating the air. How the hell do you expect me to be able to think, much less speak?" "You don't seem to be having any problem squawking,gallo ." His friend chuckled. He leaned back on his elbows and regarded Jaelan. "Tell me about the pretty one I hear it took four Hasdu warriors to subdue after she mauled your family jewels." Jaelan frowned, thinking about the ruckus. As Commander of Security, he had been called by the Chief Procurer's assistant just as the trouble began. When he entered the slave market, he saw two women struggling with the Chief Procurer and the attendants of the Chief Slavemaster. At first, the foul language from the tall redhead had amused him and every other man watching the spectacle. He had stood laughing, listening to bets on how long it would take for the tall one to be subdued, until a dagger suddenly appeared in her hand. Before he or anyone else could react, she had buried the blade in the fat gut of the King's Chief Procurer, his entrails tumbling to the wooden platform in a steaming heap. No one knew how the woman had gotten hold of the dagger, but as soon as she committed her deadly deed, the Chief Slavemaster's attendants wrestled her to the ground. "Don't hurt her!" the other woman cried out. Short, slender, blonde, and as tanned as her companion was tall, stout, crimson-haired, and pale, the one who Jaelan learned was named Orithia tried to reach her friend. She struggled with the Chief Slavemaster, bucking and twisting in his muscled hold, striving with every ounce of her strength to break free. Her shouts pleading with the Chief Slavemaster's attendants not to harm the redhead went unheeded. Even over the shrieks of the blonde and the grunts of the men trying to wrest the dagger from the woman warrior, the pop of a snapping bone rang over the crowd. Not an arm or leg, but a broken neck. As the Chief Slavemaster's attendants moved back, leaving the still one sprawled on the plank flooring of the auction platform, all eyes went to the fair-haired beauty. Jaelan's frown deepened as he remembered the blonde going perfectly still in the grip of her captor. Behind his closed eyes, he could see the stricken look that drained her face of color and opened her full lips in shock. He had taken a step toward her just as her eyes rolled up in her head and she slumped in the Chief Slavemaster's arms. "I hear you brought her to the fortress," Aluino remarked. "She had fainted?" "Aye." Jaelan stared at the lush greenery at the far end of the bathing chamber. "When she awoke, all hell broke loose." Aluino grinned. "So I heard. Caspar said she came after you with talons drawn." Jaelan touched the long scratches that streaked his chest. "Her prophet-be-damned fingernails felt like razor blades." "Have you grown so weak in the King's employ that you allow a wisp of a girl to get the better of you, Ben-Ashaman?" "That wisp of a girl is an Amazeen warrioress of royal blood, trained from the womb to fight men and to win at all costs. I should have remembered that." Aluino arched a thick black brow. "But you thought you could handle her on your own, eh,amigo ?" Shaking his head, Jaelan reached for a sea sponge and a thick bar of soap. He lathered his arms, wincing at the deep gouges pitting his flesh. "She appeared so docile on the slave platform. I thought I saw fear in her eyes, believed she was intimidated by her predicament, so I let down my guard. I sure as hell won't make that mistake again! I walked into the room, saw her sitting on the floor glaring at me, and went to help her to her feet. Before I knew what was happening, she sprang up and came at me faster than a cheetah. It was all I could do to keep her from raking my eyes. As it was, she head-butted me in the mouth, bit me on the shoulder, then kicked me in the shin. During all that, I didn't want to hurt her until she drove her knee into my groin." "And after she'd done all that?" Aluino inquired with a smirk. Jaelan cast his friend a nasty look. "I wanted to break her stubborn neck!" Jaelan grumbled, then winced at what he'd said. "Ignore that. A bad choice of words."

Aluino's smile disappeared. "Did the attendants mean to kill the other woman?" Jaelan shrugged, then wished he hadn't, for the scratches on his chest came to burning life as he pulled apart the forming scabs. "I don't think so, but she would have been executed anyway for killing the Chief Procurer." "True. So what will happen to this one? Is she really destined for the King's harem?" "That was a foregone conclusion as soon as the slave traders discovered who she was. But I'll tell you, if she doesn't practice self-restraint, she'll wind up with her head on the chopping block instead of on a silken pillow beside our king. She's already in the seraglio and will begin her training tomorrow morning." "I pity her trainers." Aluino chuckled. "So do I." In silence, the men relaxed in the warm bath. When Aluino spoke again, he pulled his feet out of the water. "You say she is of royal blood. How closely is she related to the Amazeen queen?" "She is the niece of the Defense Queen," Jaelan answered. "And supposedly the daughter of the Domestic Queen, though I doubt it." "They have more than one queen?" "One for defense, and another for domestic rule. They are generally sisters and share sovereignty. In this case, I'm told they are cousins." "I can not imagine women sharing anything," Aluino quipped. "Especially not the rule of an entire country." "It seems to work for the Amazeen." "You know, I have heard tales," Aluino said as he dried his feet with his smelly socks. "They enslave men, keep them for mating purposes, and make them perform tasks other cultures reserve for females. It is said they kill their male offspring, or else send them away to live with a nearby tribe." "I've heard that, too. I've also heard they have their right breasts burned off in order to draw a bow and throw javelins more efficiently." "When you were struggling with that wildcat this morning, did she have both love globes?" Jaelan blushed. "I was too busy fending off her wicked nails to take count, Vasquez." "You'll let me know if you find out, won't you?" Jaelan snorted. "They must be an insensitive lot if it is true about their breasts. Apparently dying with your body intact is not a concern of theirs. Another tale I've heard is that they pluck out the right eye and cut off the right thumb of their male captives so they cannot wield weapons against them. Do you believe that could be true?" "I've no idea," Jaelan answered. "And I've no desire to find out." He stood, turned, and levered himself out of the pool. Aluino watched his friend shake off the water like a hound. "Well, let's hope they don't come after you and take you prisoner for helping to enslave one of theirs." "One thing's for certain, I won't be as gentle with the next Amazeen I come into contact with." Jaelan patted dry the vicious scratches on his chest. "Did you have the Healer look at those wounds, Commander?" Jaelan stilled. He did not turn to greet the speaker, for he recognized the voice all too well. One glance at Aluino, whose swarthy complexion had turned pale, was all the confirmation Jaelan needed to know a demon from the bowels of the Abyss had joined them.

"I have no need of a Healer, Lord Gehenna," Jaelan replied, wrapping the towel around his naked body and tucking the end at his waist. "One never knows what filth lies beneath the nails of an impure female. I am told she is having her monthly flow, so she is doubly unclean. I must insist you present yourself to Healer Dromos immediately. We do not wish you to become ill from your injuries. We would be remiss in our duty to His Majesty should you suffer any misfortune while in our care." Jaelan ground his teeth, a muscle working in his taut jaw. He made no reply, but nodded in reluctant acquiescence. Turning his back to a man he hated, he snatched up his clothes. "You look to be in virile health, Commander, but even a Shadowlord can get sick, given the right circumstances," Gehenna called in a purring voice. When Jaelan stiffened, looking around to pierce the man with a hateful glower, the Prelate of Justice grinned nastily. "I order you to present yourself to the Healer. You do not wish to become ill, do you?" Clutching his clothes in a brutal grip, Jaelan stared at Gehenna Dahur, who sauntered from the room. Breathing harshly, in shallow gasps of anger, he muttered a quick farewell to Aluino and stalked away, his bare feet slapping the tile floor. **** Jaelan's teeth ground audibly as the Healer cleaned the scratches on his abdomen with strong astringent. It wasn't the medication's sting that bothered Jaelan, but the press of the stocky man's very-white fingers as they roamed at will over his chest. "This one could become infected, Commander," Dromos commented with tsking sounds to accompany his pronouncement. "We must watch it closely, for the scratch is deep and wide." "I know how to disinfect and care for wounds, Lord Dromos," Jaelan replied through clenched teeth. "A Shadowlord heals quickly, as I'm sure you know." Dromos looked up through bushy eyebrows and smiled coyly, his eyelids fluttering like those of an adolescent girl. "Oh, I know how well you care for your body. Your healing capacity is legendary, but I would like to..." Jaelan shoved away the Healer's hands and slid down from the examination table. He crowded Dromos until the man had no choice but to step aside. Turning his back on the short, balding man, he grabbed his black uniform shirt, thrust his arms into the sleeves, and closed the ebony buttons with brutal jerks. He would not look at Dromos, who pressed his stubby fingers against his rubbery lips. "You are such a powerfully built warrior, Commander, in the prime of your health. It would benefit us greatly if you would allow me to study you, to measure the depth of your--ah--abilities. Your kind are--" "You willnot get the chance to measureanything of mine, so stop hinting." "But could you not see the benefit to science if we could but--" "No!" With an irritated snarl vibrating in his throat, Jaelan jammed the tails of his shirt into the open waistband of his black leather breeches, then worked the closures at his privates. After buckling his belt, he snatched his leather jacket from a hook on the back of the door. "Do you need anything for the discomfort of those scratches, Commander?" Dromos asked breathlessly. Jaelan opened the door, intent only on leaving the claustrophobic room with its sweaty Healer, who smelled of rutabagas and rancid grease. Dromos followed his patient. "I could give you something to make you sleep better at night." Jaelan stopped, turned, and awarded the Healer a brutal stare. The low growl that came from the depths of his hatred for men like Dromos made the effeminate man take a quick step backward, putting distance between them. "I need nothing from your pharmacoepia of mind-altering drugs." Jaelan's feral eyes glistened with an emotion that made the Healer shudder. "I prefer living with my eyes wide open."

"I...I understand." Dromos took another few steps away from the fury that had settled on Jaelan's hard features. A predatory smile tugged at Jaelan's full lips. "It's good that you do, Dromos. We certainly wouldn't want a misunderstanding between us, would we?" The Healer's head swiveled from side to side, his parted lips making wet sounds as they flapped. "N...no, milord Commander. We would not." With one last insulting sweep of his savage gaze over the man, Jaelan strode down the corridor, his hands balled into fists. He paid no attention to the people moving out of his way, pressing against the wall to avoid his notice. **** Orithia woke to a pounding headache. The light from the candle at her bedside caused acute agony. She tried to shift position, but found her arms and legs weighted down. With great effort, she managed to lift her head and saw her wrists and ankles circled with chain. A curse hissed from her dry lips, and she gingerly returned her head to the pillow, hopelessness raging with infinite fury for the occupation of her mind. Grimacing at the distasteful feel of her menstrual blood oozing unchecked between her thighs, she wiggled uncomfortably. "Consider your condition a blessing, Pale One," someone said from the room's darker recesses. Flinching, Orithia craned her head. She saw only a deeper silhouette hovering within the darkness. "Who are you?" A tall man with arms the size of goodly size tree trunks emerged from the shadows. He was as black as a moonless night, but his flesh glistened as though highly oiled. His short, heavily embroidered cotton vest lay open over his broad, hairless chest, exposing bulging pectorals. His billowing white pantaloons accentuated the solidness of his hips and long legs, and the pale blue turban wound around his large head made his flesh seem even more ebon. "I am Sulaimon, Pale One," he replied, the index finger of his right hand spiraling from forehead to chest in a series of quick downward circles. "I am your personal protector." "Go away," Orithia demanded, the sound of her voice excruciatingly loud and increasing the throbbing in her temples. The dark man moved closer. "The Mistress can not begin your instructions until your womanly flow has ended," he said, a glass appearing in his oversized hand. "Is that water?" she asked, running her dry tongue over equally parched lips. "Aye, Milady." Sulaimon bent over her, scooping one huge hand under her neck to lift her head. Not too proud to accept the quenching of her arid throat, she gulped the cool liquid, reveling in the sweet taste. A few dribbles escaped the corners of her mouth and slid soothingly down her neck. "The tenerse causes the body to dehydrate." Sulaimon gently lowered Orithia's head to the pillow. "You will require large amounts of water to ease the dryness." Unfamiliar with the drug that had brought about her unconsciousness, Orithia licked her lips and lay with her eyes closed. "Are there side effects to that evil brew?" Sulaimon set aside the empty glass and straightened, crossing his muscular arms. "If it is mixed with other things, it has adverse properties." She opened her eyes and looked at him. "Such as?" "When in its natural state, undiluted--as it was when given to you--it induces deep sleep. If mixed with vinegar, it severely lessens pain. Healers give such potions to women during childbirth. Yet if mixed with the juice from taro, it heightens pain. Such is given during Tribunal torture sessions." "So it is basically harmless?" Sulaimon shrugged. "Not entirely. Should it be mixed with wine, it will cause stupor, hallucinations, and an unpleasant ringing in the ears that lasts for hours. Added to milk, it becomes a strong aphrodisiac that brings about strong arousal. Many a violent rape has been committed while a man is under the drug's."

"But it won't kill you. There are no lasting effects from its administration." "I did not say that. When mixed with any type of fruit juice, it is an effective poison, and if added to ale or mead and administered over a long period of time, it has been known to cause irrational anger or madness that can cripple and result in irreversible blindness." He shook his head. "Tenerse is a dangerous drug in careless hands." "And other than helping a woman give birth, there's no good reason for its existence." "That is not entirely true. Mixed with water, it is administered to the Shadowlords to control them." Orithia frowned. "What is a Shadowlord?" Despite his size and obvious physical strength, the dark man shivered, his meaty hands tensing on his muscled biceps. "The Lords of Death. It was a Shadowlord with whom you fought, Pale One. You are lucky he did not hurt you, for they are not known for being gentle with women. I am told he has said he will not treat the next Amazeen he meets with as much politeness. You wounded him many times over with your sharp nails and teeth." "Are you talking about the brute in black?" Orithia questioned, her eyes narrowing in memory. "The one who dared to put his filthy hand over my mouth?" Sulaimon nodded. "His name is Jaelan Ben-Ashaman. He is the Lord High Commander of the Shadow Force, a position awarded to him by the King." "Next time I meet up with him,I won't be as gentle withhim , either! I'll nail his worthless hide to the wall." Sulaimon grinned, his white teeth sparkling within the confines of his ebon face. "I would pay much to see Ben-Ashaman lose a match to anyone, but especially so a mere female." "I have outmatched many men in my time! Ben-Ashaman could not stand againstmy dagger!" Orithia blushed when she realized the dark man saw through her empty boast. "The Shadowlord has thirty and seven winters, Pale One," Sulaimon said. "In all that time, he has yet to lose a fight. His enemies lie crumbling to dust and Ben-Ashaman lives to fight another day. You will never be given the chance to see if you can best him, but it would have been a match upon which I would have eagerly placed money." She tugged at her bounds. "What does that mean? Are you afraid I would win?" Sulaimon's smile slipped away. "You will not be given the chance to fight the Shadowlord orany man, Pale One. From this day forward, you will be at the beck and call of whomever purchases youm and no master will allow a dagger to find its way into your hand." Orithia knew what lay ahead for her if she was unable to escape the Rysalian's fiendish plans. She knew what instructions waited upon the ceasing of her monthly flow. She had to find a way out of the seraglio before the dehumanizing and degrading tutorials began in the performance of the sexual arts. "There is no way out of the seraglio, Pale One," Sulaimon said as though he had read her mind. "You will be interned here for the remainder of your life." "Don't count on it," Orithia swore beneath her breath. She turned her face to the wall, dragging helplessly on her chains, kicking out against the bonds that held her legs captive. If it were the last thing she ever did, she would find a way to gain her freedom. And when she did, she would find Jaelan Ben-Ashaman and make him rue the day he ever laid a hand on her.

Chapter 3

Aradia halted her mount by the river and bent forward, patting the stallion's back. She and her women were hot and tired, the dry desert wind whipping under their loose-fitting robes to scour soft skin. It was midmorning of the third day of their travels, and in the distance, the skies were turning black with an approaching storm. "We should find shelter soon," Phillipa suggested. "That looks to be dangerous." Lightning sewed a fiery stitch across the heavens, and a low rumble followed close on its hem. Here, near the Nilus River, the danger of flash flooding was a real possibility. In the blink of an eye, a rider could be swept from her mount and carried to her death, her body tumbling down the cataracts. "Aye, the air is turning cooler," Okyale said. "Not a good sign." Aradia nodded and straightened in the saddle. Stretching, she looked around. "Daedal is the closest town, according to my map. There's a caravansary there." "How far away?" Phillipa inquired. "An hour's ride, maybe less." "Good, because I'm starving," Euryleia complained. "You are always hungry," Okyale said. "I wish you would eat normal helpings instead of the bird pecks you take." "I refuse to eat like a horse at a trough. If you do, that is your problem, and the widening of your hips tells the tale, does it not?" "My hips are classic!" Okyale said. "Classically wide, you mean," Euryleia responded dryly. "You could carry a flagon of wine on your ass and never spill a drop!" "How dare you insult me like that!" "If the girdle stretches..." Aradia exchanged a weary look with Phillipa. Though Eury and Oky were good friends, if one said "white," the other said "black." Their constant bickering was more comical than annoying. "Stop!" "What?" the two asked in unison, identical inquiring looks on their faces. "We'll eat once we get to Daedal,"Aradia said between clenched teeth. "But I'll warn you again, be careful what you say. Is that understood?" "But why, Ardy?" Eury inquired. Aradia sighed and looked to Phillipa for help. "We are pilgrims on the way to the convent at Natunwadi," Phillipa explained after a harsh sigh of her own. "Pilgrims who have taken an oath of allegiance to the Prophetess. We must act as holy women. Do not insult one another, and never curse." "Oh, yes. Now I remember." "Try not to forget it," Phillipa advised in a dry tone. "Your freedom may well depend on it." "There can be no slip-ups," Aradia said. "The Rysalians bear a grudging respect for holy women and will leave us alone. Otherwise, as foreign women, we would be fair game for their slave marketers. I don't know about the rest of you, but I have no desire to spend my life stretched out beneath a sweaty, slobbering Hasdu with a gut the size of a hippopotamus."

"You made your point, Ardy," Euryleia said, chastened. The women lapsed into silence as they followed the meandering Nilus through the Khepri Valley. Behind them, the storm rapidly advanced, the rumbles louder and heavy with enough force to shake the ground. The brisk wind whipped at their clothing. When the first drops of rain struck their heads, they increased their pace until the horses pounded through the lowering afternoon. "There!" Aradia said as they entered Daedal, pointing to what looked to be a stable. Pelting rain rapidly fell, and lightning shrieked across the firmament. The stable boy barely spared them a glance as they dismounted and tied their horses to the hitching post. He moved aside as the strangers crowded into the stable's entrance to flee the deluge. Aradia made the boy aware of what she needed. Nodding tiredly, he led the horses one at a time into the stable to warm, dry stalls, where he would rub them down, feed and water them, then watch over them through the night. For his trouble, Aradia tossed him a small bag of silver coins, the sight and weight of which seemed to please him. He smiled wanly, then trudged away. Phillipa plucked at Aradia's sleeve and cocked her chin toward a large building. "The caravansary?" Aradia nodded. She led the way across the rapidly mudding street and reached the caravansary just as a particularly vicious crack of thunder shook the town. "Come in, come in!" the innkeeper cried, opening the door. No doubt he had seen their approach and knew they would be in need of lodgings. As the last of his visitors entered, he stuck his head out the doorway and craned his neck to look at the turbulent heavens. "A very bad night, indeed, Sisters!" Aradia inclined her head in answer. "The heavens are sad this eve, Milord inn's man," she said in perfect Diabolusian High Speech. Frowning as he caught a whiff of the sour smell emanating from their robes as they passed, the innkeeper was about to bundle them off to a side room but stopped as their leader held up a shiny gold sovereign. His eyes widened as she jingled a heavy bag of coins, indicating more of the same. With a hand spiraling from head to chin to belly, he welcomed them to his establishment. "I have a table near the fire pit." He held out his arm, showing the way. With Aradia in the lead and Phillipa bringing up the rear, the women moved to the warmth of the fire. With their clothing soaked through, the clammy wool pressing intimately against their shivering flesh, they looked a miserable lot as they took seats at the rough-hewn table. "May I suggest mulled date wine to ward off the peculiars?" the innkeeper suggested. "On such a night, I am sure the Arch-Deaconess would not mind you imbibing." Aradia nodded. Opening the drawstring of the bag, she took out four coins and slowly placed them on the table. She thought better of her disbursement and added a fifth coin, knowing her overpayment would insure privacy and discretion. The innkeeper beamed, his jowls wobbling as he profusely thanked her. He bowed, clapped his hands, and ordered a private room be made available. The women watched as servants hurried to do his bidding. They lit a fire in an adjacent room and carried in bedding from the outer rooms, providing the best accouterments. "My good wife has made fish stew and I am sure you will find it very palatable," the innkeeper advised. "She is a most worthy cook. Her repasts are legendary in the Khepri Valley. Her bread..." He cupped the fingers of his right hand and brought the fingertips to his mouth. "Ah, her bread is the best you will ever eat! And the goat cheese!" He rolled his eyes to indicate the worthiness of the dairy product. Aradia inclined her head in acceptance. "We will welcome your lady-wife's fare, for we have traveled long this day." "When you have warmed, please make yourselves comfortable in the private room. All will be ready for you." He bowed again and still again as he backed away, leaving his obviously wealthy guests to their privacy.

Giving the fire in the private room time to ward off any chill, the women were content to bide their time at the blazing fire pit. Steam rose from their woolen robes and the stench grew overpowering. Aradia leaned against the thick cushion upon which she sat and closed her eyes. She was hungry, tired, and a nagging headache had been hounding her for most of the afternoon. The dampness did not help, nor the clinging scratch of the wool plastered to her arms and legs. She was acutely uncomfortable and growing more so by the minute. She longed for the safety of the private room, hoping she could strip down to her short gown. "Dare we ask him for a tub of hot water?" Okyale inquired. "I think not," Phillipa replied. "It would be--" The door crashed open. A sharp gust of wind rushed into the room, extinguishing the candles and sending a fine mist of rain over the guests. A strong scent of brimstone wafted over the women, making their eyes water and their noses crinkle. An unearthly howl rent the air. Before the innkeeper could rush to close the door, a figure appeared on the threshold, robe billowing, lightning flaring behind to lend the silhouette an evil bent. "Milord!" The portly innkeeper gasped and fell to his knees, his forehead touching the floor. The black-robed figure entered the darkened room, his face partially covered with the folds of his black ghutra head covering. He ignored the innkeeper and strode to the far end of the room, his boot heels tapping heavily on the planking. After removing his black leather gloves, he threw them on a table, unfastened the hook at his throat, and swirled the robe from his shoulders, carelessly tossing it to a chair. Beneath the robe, his leather breeches and long silk tunic were as ebon as a starless night. "Get the hell up, Jubil," came an irritated growl. "You know I hate it when you do that!" The innkeeper got clumsily to his feet and backed away, bobbing like a crazed woodpecker. "My apologies, Milord. Please forgive me!" "Stop that, too! I hate it even more when you grovel." Aradia and her women had stiffened at the first sound of the authoritative voice. Covertly staring at the stranger, they saw little, save the dark shape of him at the far end of the room. He gave an impression of authority as he swung a long leg over the back of his chair and sat down. "Will you be eating with us tonight, Milord?" Jubil asked, hastily moving to relight the candles on the tables closer to Aradia and her group. "Would I have ridden all this way from Abbadon in the midst of a raging storm if not for Olufemi's food?" "It is not your favorite, Milord," the innkeeper said miserably. "It is fish stew and--" "Stew will be fine." As light from the candles brightened the room, the women got a better look at the newcomer, tall, wide of shoulder, and muscular. Reclining with one leg stretched out, the other hooked at the boot heel in the lower rung of his chair, the chair tipped back and balanced on two legs, he appeared at ease. Though he sat facing them, the shadows were still too dark to show his face. It was not until the innkeeper lit the candle on the newcomer's table that the women got a good look at a face that made each of them draw in a quick breath. Aradia had once known a man whom she thought to be the most handsome ever fashioned by the gods. His swarthy good looks, coupled with ebony hair and sparkling brown eyes, had caused her many sleepless, aching nights. His memory had plagued her over the years, and she yearned to feel his strong male body atop her own once more. Until the moment her gaze fell upon the newcomer, she would not have believed it possible for there to be another man as alluring and sensual as the one from whose arms she had been so cruelly thrust. "By the Goddess," Okyale whispered. Aye, Aradia thought, taking in the raw sexual energy coming from the newcomer. This male had been fashioned by the Goddess, Herself. How else to explain the finely chiseled features, the striking amber eyes, gleaming raven hair, two long thick braids framing shoulder-length flowing waves, and full, deep coral lips? Crisp black hair was nested at the open V of the tunic unbuttoned half way to his slender waist. The wet black silk

clung to his body, doing nothing to hide the muscles bunching along his upper chest and straining the sleeves over his biceps. Thighs encased in shiny black leather were taut with muscles, pulling against the bulge at the juncture of his spread legs. Unlike most Rysalian males, he was not bearded. His complexion was as dark as that man's who had held Aradia's heart in thrall for so long, but the stranger's flesh was not oily, held no shine. His eyebrows were not as bushy as the Diabolusian's had been, yet were thick and slashed provocatively upward into midnight hair that glistened with raindrops. As he thrust his hand through that damp crop of waves from his neck, every woman drew in a ragged breath, sensing the tactile strength in those long, slender fingers. His was a hand bred to the sword, fashioned for a dagger, and they recognized in him a superior warrior. He had yet to acknowledge their presence. His amber eyes--glowing honey-gold from the light of the candle--stared into the flame, his head cocked to one side. His posture gave the impression he was experiencing great weariness, a deep sadness of spirit that had drained him of energy and emotion. When the innkeeper placed a goblet of wine before him, he glanced up, but said nothing. As he brought the goblet to his finely chiseled lips, he noticed the group by the fire and frowned. His eyes narrowed as he took a sip, and his gaze held steady. Aradia felt the power of that gaze when it passed over, then returned sharply, to her. With his eyes locked on her, she wished the floorboards would open and allow her to drop through. His intent gaze made her feel vulnerable. "Are you going to the Wadi?" he asked, his deep voice as commanding as his gaze. Aradia nodded, not daring to stare into those tawny eyes for fear he could read her mind. "The road is washed out at Ammonrea." He lowered his goblet to the table and rocked it from side to side on its pedestal base. "Best you take the mountain road up to Assaraba, then down." "Thank you, Milord. We are grateful for your advice," Aradia replied in Diabolusian. As she spoke, a twitch pulled a muscle in the stranger's left cheek before he took another long swallow of his libation. When he lowered the goblet, that same muscle became taut and his full lips tightened. The innkeeper returned from the kitchen, bearing a heavy trencher of aromatic stew. Bypassing Aradia and her group, he walked to the man's table and placed the offering before him as though it were a sacrifice to a Dark God. Annoyed the stranger received his meal first, Aradia dug her nails into her palms and wished she could tell the fat man what she thought of his hospitality. Her anger became somewhat mollified when the stranger put a hand on the innkeeper's arm. The innkeeper's portly face held an instant terror. He began to quake like a bowl of pudding. "Where are your manners, Jubil?" the stranger inquired in a deceptively soft voice. "Were they not here before me?" "Aye, Milord, but you--" "I can wait." Trembling, his arm still held captive beneath the lethal sword hand that held it, the innkeeper looked as though he would faint. His groan of relief echoed through the room as the stranger released him. "So you are from Diabolusia?" the stranger asked Aradia. "Aye, Milord." "You are going to make your vows to the Prophetess?" "We have felt the Call, aye, Milord." He stared at her. "Is that so? And from which convent have you traveled? Afanarse? Curación? " Aware of his sharp gaze, the way he watched her, Aradia heard blood pounding in her ears. "We have traveled from Deseo, Milord." His eyes slightly narrowing again, he nodded. A leisurely smile stretched his full lips, and he lifted his goblet to them. "Then take my personal wishes with you as you travel, Sisters."

Feeling Phillipa stiffen beside her, Aradia inclined her head in gratitude. "Thank you, Milord." "And may the Wind behind you not be your own." The stranger laughed before downing his ale. "Milord Jaelan!" the innkeeper pleaded. The stranger held up his hands in surrender, shaking his head. "Just give them the prophet-be-damned food and treat them well, Jubil. The memory of their last night of freedom before becoming slaves to the Sisterhood should last them the rest of their lives." Obviously not wanting to have any trouble or dangerous words spoken, the innkeeper took up the trencher of stew and carried it into the private room, cocking his head at Aradia and her group to follow. "If you have need of the facilities, they are through there." He crooked an elbow toward a door to the right of the fire pit. "You believe we are giving ourselves into slavery, Milord?" Aradia asked, ignoring Phillipa's low warning hiss. He shrugged. "One man's slavery is another man's delight, I suppose. There are those who revel in being told what to do, when, and how. I've known both sides of the coin, and freedom is better by far." "You equate serving with slavery, then?" Once more, the muscle bunched in his lean cheek. "Slavery is the absence of free will, Milady, of not being able to go where you will, when you will, of performing tasks you would not do if you were given the choice." "Are you a free man, Milord?" He tore his stare from her and pinned the innkeeper, banging his goblet on the table. "Do I have to distill the liquor myself, Jubil?" he asked irritably, then turned his eyes back to Aradia. "I am as free as I will ever be." Aradia sensed pain in his answer. "But you were once a slave." "Aye," he said, his eyes narrowed dangerously, "and I have the lash marks to prove it." She would never know what made her do it. One minute she was up, walking toward the private room, the next she was standing at the stranger's table, looking into eyes haunted with an emotion she found unsettling. Aradia squeezed the taut arm beneath her hand. It was bare, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and she wished there for no restriction between her palm and the wiry black hair curled on his dark flesh. She ached to be familiar with the feel of that strong arm, knowing it would rival the strength in another she had known so long ago. For a moment, Jaelan stared into her gaze, then slowly pulled his arm from the light grip. "I'm not interested, wench. If you need a man before sealing your fate with the Sisterhood, I'm sure Jubil can provide one." He turned his face to stare across the room, dismissing her. Aradia felt her face flame and snatched back her hand. She spun on her heel and hurried to the women, shooing them into the room before her. Unable to get the door shut fast enough behind her, she leaned against it, breathing heavily. With a shaky hand, she shoved back the cowl of her robe and tore viciously at the covering restricting her face. "He thought I wanted him to bed me!" she said, her cheeks blazing. "What else was he to think?" Phillipa inquired, pulling her from the door lest someone hear. "Why the hell did you go over to his table?" "I don't know!" Aradia whined, snatching off her gloves. She held her trembling hands toward the flames in the fire pit and stared at the golden blaze that reminded her vividly of his amber eyes. "What did the innkeeper call him?" "Lord Jaelan, I think," Okyale replied. "Jaelan," Aradia repeated. "Obviously he's a man who wields power here," Phillipa commented. "Why else would the innkeeper bow and scrape as he did?" "He despises slavery," Aradia said. "That much is for certain." She looked around. "Perhaps he would be a good

ally." Phillipa's eyes widened. Her face turned pale. "No, Aradia, no! You leavethat one alone. Do you hear?" "Why?" Aradia asked, surprised to see true fear running rampant on Phillipa's scarred face. "He is trouble, girl. You could see it in his eyes!" "I saw pain in his eyes. Pain and something I could not understand." "I agree with Phillipa," Okyale said. "He is best left alone. I sense great danger about him." Each woman turned her attention to Okyale. The petite redhead was being trained for the Temple of the Goddess. Her psychic powers were highly regarded, and many came to her for readings regarding their futures. "What do you see, Okyale?" Phillipa asked in a tight voice. A frown marred the young woman's porcelain features. "It is not so much what I see as what I feel. There is great darkness surrounding him, and I sense the presence of blood." "He is a warrior," Aradia said. "Darkness always follows a warrior." "As blood is the general result of his profession," Euryleia commented. Okyale shook her head, and the auburn ringlets that famed her oval face bounced with the movement. "Not darkness such as touches this one. This darkness is evil, a malevolence that destroys." "Leave off, Okyale," Euryleia said. "Ardy has no intention of trafficking with the Rysalian." "He is not Rysalian," Okyale said. "I am not sure what he is." "Does it matter?" Phillipa asked. "Let us forget him and eat our meal before it grows cold." She took a seat at the table that had been prepared before the fire. "I am famished." "As am I," Euryleia agreed, sitting. The other women joined Phillipa and Euryleia, digging into the stew and soft bread laid out for their fare. Aradia sat beside Okyale, and exchanged a smile with her friend as Okyale passed the bread tray to her. "Marvelous!" Phillipa commented as she sampled the stew. Closing her eyes to its deliciousness, she chewed slowly, savoring the delicate blend of tastes. A groan of pleasure rumbled from her throat. "I can see why the warrior rode all this way to have a meal," Aradia said. "I have not had such delightful fare since Aello was Head Cook," Euryleia put in. The women stilled as a light knock sounded. The door opened, and the innkeeper entered. "There is more stew if you desire it, ladies. The bread, I fear, has been depleted, but there are day-old rolls that are nearly as fresh as when my lady-wife pulled them from the oven. Would you like me to bring more trenchers? Cheese? Ripe fruits?" His smile widened. "Perhaps more refreshment?" "No, thank you," Aradia said. He shrugged. "Suit yourselves, but as Lord Jaelan says, you will not find the food at the convent as good as my lady-wife's." "What does Lord Jaelan do?" Aradia inquired. Shock spread over the innkeeper's florid face. "Do? My dear woman, he is a Shadowlord!" "And that would be what, exactly?" Jubil's chin trembled. He looked at the door, then lowered his voice. "He is one of the Dark Lords of Death. He is in charge of the King's personal security forces, the Shadowlord over the other Lords."

"In other words, a man to be feared?" Phillipa asked. "There are those who move to the other side of the street rather than walk behind him, and none would dare walk in front of Lord Jaelan. He is feared and not a man to be crossed." "Then what is...?" Aradia began. The man hold up a hand. "It is not wise even to speak of him. Best you pretend you never saw him." Opening the door, he peaked out. Satisfied no one had overheard, he left the room and quietly closed the door behind him. "Jaelan sounds like a Rysalian name, don't you think?" Aradia asked. Phillipa stopped eating, laid down her fork, and gripped Aradia's arm. "Get your mind off that man! Don't even think what I know you're thinking." "What's she thinking?" Euryleia asked. Aradia held Phillipa's stony stare. "I am going to need help getting into the fortress at Abbadon. Why not use him?" "And how would a postulant to the Wadi go about gaining the warrior's confidence?" Phillipa demanded. "You heard him tell you he's not interested!" "I told you, there's darkness emanating from him," Okyale said. "Being a Shadowlord does not sound like a gentle profession. That more than anything should make Ardy think twice about confronting a man like him." "A darkness onlyyou sense," Aradia said. "I touched him. I looked into his eyes. If there's darkness, it's a darkness bred of sorrow." "You'll do as you want," Phillipa snapped, letting go of Aradia's arm. "You always do." She picked up her fork and thrust it into her plate, scooping up a goodly portion of stew. "And not all your decisions are wise." Phillipa's words stung, but Aradia made no comment. She returned to her food, the enjoyment somewhat diminished by the mood that had settled over the table. Outside, the elements had turned more violent. Thunder boomed, lightning cracked, shaking the shudders covering the arched windows. Rain pelted the roof, and the wind skirled along the eaves. A wicked night, made more so by dampness that settled in the room, which not even the cheery fire could dispel. Euryleia pushed away her plate, wiped clean of any particle of food. "On such a night as this, not even the beasties are safe." "I have heard tales of flash floods in Rysalia that come in the dead of night to wipe away entire towns," Tianara, one of the other women who had remained silent until now, said. "We are high enough above the Nilus that such is unlikely to happen," Phillipa reminded them. "I would suggest we post a watch nevertheless," Tianara said. "I would be willing to take the first shift. I have never been able to sleep when it storms." "Nor have I," Aradia commented. "Storms put my nerves on edge. Lord Jaelan must truly love the food here to come out in this deluge." Phillipa hissed, got up from the table, and went to one of the pallets. She settled onto the thin padding, turned her back to the others, and pulled the coarse blanket over her shoulders. "What ails her?" Euryleia whispered. "She seems to have developed a strong dislike of Lord Jaelan," Aradia said. "Then stop mentioning him," Okyale suggested. "I don't care for him, either." "Did it occur to anyone that he might be one ofthem ?" Euryleia inquired, the last word sinking to a whisper.

"Them?" Okyale asked. Euryleia blushed. "You know--the ones who like other males." "Oh, surely not," Aradia snapped. "Perhaps he has a woman of his own and is faithful." "A Hasdu faithful to one woman?" Phillipa scoffed, rustling her covers. "They don't know the meaning of the concept!" Tianara also got up and went to another pallet. She took it by the corner and dragged it to the door. "I'll keep first watch. If I put the pallet in front of the door, no one can enter without us knowing. And if I hear a commotion outside, I'll have time to wake the rest of you." "Let me out first," Aradia said. Phillipa pushed up from her pallet and turned to glare at her. "I have to pee, Phillipa! Is that all right with you?" Aradia hurried out before Phillipa could stop her. As she closed the door behind her, she felt relief at not hearing voices from their room, though she knew the women would be discussing her. The common room lay in darkness, save for the flicker of the dying fire in the grate. Deep shadows hovered along the curved walls and cast the furniture in darker shades of black. Fumbling, Aradia made her way to the door to the facilities, grateful when a harsh flare of lightning lit the room in blue-white relief and revealed its location. Bracing herself for the onslaught of wind and rain as she ventured outside, she held the cowl to her head and hurried to the outbuilding that sat a few yards from the inn. Her booted feet splashed through puddles, and by the time she reached the facility, mud coated the hem of her robe and her cowl was soaked. Grinding her teeth, she jerked open the wooden door and rushed inside, the stench hitting her like a damp rag to the bare face. Aradia groaned, wishing she could pinch her nostrils closed. Holding open the door, she waited until another flash of lightning lit the heavens and allowed her to see the lantern hanging beside the door. After taking it from its peg, she ran her hand along the wall until she found the tin of lucifers and struck one against the rough plank wall. The meager light flared. She lit the lantern, then hung it back on the peg. She inhaled their pungent odor as she fumbled with her robes, pulled down her short britches, and perched uneasily on the wooden seat. A long sigh escaped her as her bladder started to drain. When the door opened and a tall figure strode in, it was all she could do to keep from shrieking. As it was, her gasp could be heard over the din outside. "It's only me, wench," Jaelan said, shutting the door. Aradia stiffened. She crouched, hiding her flaming face with her cowl. Her bladder had locked on her, cutting off her urine in mid-stream. She watched in dismay as he moved to the far wall and began unbuttoning his leather britches, his back to her. She saw him shift his legs apart, but turned her face away as he began relieving himself into a narrow crevice dug into the wall. "You are a sensitive sort, aren't you?" he asked, amusement rife in his deep voice. "You'll get over your shyness quickly enough at the convent. Privacy is not allowed within the Sisterhood." Unable to keep from doing so, she snuck a look at him. "I hope you are prepared for what goes on at the Convent." "I am not sure I understand what you mean, Milord," Aradia said, her voice trembling. "I know it is not the case in Diabolusia, but the Brotherhood of the Domination runs the Convent in Rysalia, or did you not know that? The nuns are often requisitioned as bedmates for visiting dignitaries. The price of a night's entertainment goes into the Brotherhood's coffers, and the only thing you will get from it might well be a dose of the clap." Shocked, Aradia stared at him, watching as he stuffed himself back into his britches. Her face flamed as he adjusted his privates, then walked toward her. Ducking her head, she quivered with acute embarrassment and flinched when his heavy hand fell on her shoulder.

"You offered me sympathy tonight, and I certainly was not expecting that from you. Now, I am offering you advice." He lightly shook her. "Go home, wench. Stay clear of the Brotherhood. They will chew you up and spit you out. Do you understand?" Aradia managed to nod, hearing the thunder of her blood in her ears. He squeezed her shoulder before releasing her and turning away. "Good. If I can save you from that life of degradation, it will have been worth every pass of the lash." He opened the door and walked into the pouring rain, then closed the door behind him. Letting out a ragged breath, Aradia shuddered and finished relieving herself. She scooted off the wooden seat, wiped herself on the hem of the already-dirty robe after discovering nothing else to use, then blew out the lantern. She opened the door, somewhat comforted by the clean wash of rain striking her face. For a moment, she stood, letting the moisture cool her. The storm was moving off, the thunder sounding more distant, but the rain still came down in driving sheets. Lowering her head, she ran for the inn's door, sidestepping as many puddles as she could see in the abbreviated flash of lightning. Phillipa was sitting in front of the fire, huddled in her blanket and staring into the leaping flames, when Aradia tapped at the door and Tianara opened let her in. The younger woman came to the fire pit and sat beside her friend. "You were gone a goodly time," Phillipa commented. "Can't you sleep?" "He is a dangerous man." "How do you know that?" Aradia asked in an exasperated tone. "I know a dangerous man when I encounter one. And so should you. Was not the Diabolusian as dangerous as they came?" "Not to me, he wasn't." Phillipa drew in a long breath, then exhaled slowly. "You will do what you will do, won't you, Ardy? No matter the consequences." "I'll be careful." "Sometimes careful isn't good enough." Phillipa returned to her pallet, leaving Aradia to watch the fire. Long into the night, the sad amber eyes of Lord Jaelan Ben-Ashaman lurked in the undulating flames Aradia contemplated. Those eyes bothered her far more than she would have imagined as the storm shook the building with violent claws. **** Jaelan lay awake in the room Jubil had allotted him, three-doors down from the room where the women slept. As they had all evening long, his thoughts returned to the evil that had once lurked in his world. "I remember you,Ai-Hawa ," he said aloud, staring at the heavy beam overhead. "I remember you all too well." With a curse, he sat up, throwing the covers from his legs. He raked a hand through his hair, gripping the black strands and pulling in his frustration. "I have never forgotten you. I remember that day as though it were yesterday." The hellish day was burned into his memory as though a branding iron had been applied to his brain, searing the sights and sounds and sensations, the taste of his own blood on his lips, into the recollection that would be there for as long as he drew breath. Nightmares had sprung from that gruesome day and still slipped unbidden into his bed when he least expected them, nightmares that had the power to make him tremble. A shudder ran through his tall frame. He felt the familiar ache in his chest, an awareness that often left him moist of eye and barren of hope. For a Shadowlord, it was a dangerous condition that had to be kept hidden at all costs.

"Aye, I remember you, but you don't remember me, do you, wench?" he whispered, balling his hands into fists and dropping them to his thighs. He got up and moved to the window, pushing aside the curtain with the back of his hand. He blinked as lightning flared, driving a wedge of discomfort through his eyes. But he was unconcerned. Storms exhilarated him, thrilled him to the core of his being. Had it been a bit warmer, he would have stripped and stepped out into the deluge, throwing his arms wide to the elements, flirting precariously with the jagged strings of fire that stepped down from the heavens. "You are as beautiful now as you were then," he whispered, his gaze narrowing, "and just as dangerous." He traced a crooked knuckle through the mist created by his hot breath on the windowpane, drawing the ancient symbol for the wind. "Ya-Bint-Al-Hawa," he whispered in his adopted tongue--The Daughter of the Wind. A decision had to be made, he thought, as he lowered his hand to the windowsill. Plucking at a loose paint chip, he sighed, wishing he had not ventured to the caravansary this night. That spur-of-the-moment choice might wind up costing him dearly. "What you didn't know wouldn't have hurt you, Jaelan." And one way or another, he was going to be hurt, he thought. He turned back to the bed and flung himself onto the lumpy mattress. Sleep, if it came at all, would be a long time arriving. **** Kathleen McGregor paced the confines of her luxurious bedchamber, and as always, ignored the sumptuous surroundings. The ornate Ionarian mahogany furniture, the exotic Viragonian silks and intricate laces, the soft furs and thick Chalean carpets, the gilt-framed paintings by ancient Diabolusian masters, the pearl and jade and jet inlaid boxes from Chrystallus, the heavy brass trinkets from Necroman, meant nothing to her. Their beauty, their priceless value, was lost on her. Stopping at the window long enough to see a violent spear of lightning thrust to earth, the Serenian captive flinched. She turned, wrapping her arms around her as a chill shifted through her slim body. Trembling, she walked to the hearth and knelt in front of the crackling fire. "Let this test pass him by, Great Lady," she pleaded to the flames. "Do not let him act upon his decision." The faint scent of lavender invaded the room. Kathleen closed her eyes. "I worry this will destroy him." "Have faith in him, Kathleen,"a soft voice advised."He is a strong man and will endure the trial." A crystal tear slid down Kathleen's cheek. She hung her head, giving in to the grief that had dwelt in her for many years. "He will suffer greatly because of her." "Life is meant to be lived, Daughter. We all suffer in one way or another." Kathleen looked up, her eyes overflowing. "But he has suffered enough in his lifetime! Let me protect him from the evil walking beside him!" "No one can bend the path of the stars. Jaelan Ben-Ashaman's fate was sealed long before he came into this world." Overcome with misery, Kathleen curled into a fetal position and stared at the blazing logs. The heavy burden of sorrow pressed on her chest, and she found it hard to breathe. Despite the heat, she felt chilled to the marrow, her teeth chattering. A growing darkness crouched at the edges of her vision, and she knew monsters--human and supernatural--lurked there as well. "Protect him, Alel," she begged her god. "Keep him safe in the hollow of Your merciful hand."

Chapter 4 A dream came sporadically to Aradia, and as it had many times before, it brought her awake with a gasp. Perspiration pebbled her brow and upper lip. Her eyes wide, her heart hammering against her ribcage, her breath rapid and shallow, she put a quivering hand to her mouth to keep the whimper inside her constricted throat. Looking around, she was relieved to see the others sleeping soundly, her nightmare not having intruded upon their peaceful rest. Willing her breath to slow, her heart to cease its racing rhythm, she swallowed the painful lump in her throat and eased aside her covers, getting to her feet to try to walk off the exacting terror. "Are you all right, Ardy?" Okyale whispered, now the keeper of their safety, watching over them through this portion of the early morn. "Bad dream. And I have to pee again." Okyale moved out of the way of the door. "Be careful." Aradia slipped from the room and made her way to the fire pit, where glowing embers cast an orange glow against the mud bricks. She threw another log on the dying fire and took up the poker to settle the wood into the burning coals. "Having trouble sleeping?" She turned to see Lord Jaelan, lounging in a chair, his bare feet crossed at the ankles and his face hidden in shadows. Shirtless, he sat with arms crossed over a chest covered in a thick thatch of curly hair. "It seems we both are," she answered, somehow not surprised to find him up at this late hour. She waited for him to speak again, but when he didn't, she moved to the door. "Be careful," he said, echoing Okyale's advice. When she returned, her robe damp from the rain, she sat on the rim of the fire pit's hearth to dry her clothing, content to keep the silence he seemed to want. She watched the fire flicker to life and poked at the wood until she felt satisfied the log would burn evenly. Her gaze followed the embers rising up the chimney before she laid aside the poker. Though the rain still fell, it came with a much gentler cadence. Lightning flaring soundlessly, occasionally lighting the windows with a soft white pulse. "She is beyond your reach, little Amazeen," he said. "You will never see her again." She gave no sign of her shock that he knew her true purpose in coming to Rysalia. She didn't look his way, nor acknowledge his words, but continued staring into the flames, recalling Okyale's warning of danger regarding this man. He shifted in his chair, the wood creaking with his weight. Out of the corner of her eye, Aradia saw him lift a mug to his lips. "Are they alive?" she asked, dreading his answer. He remained quiet for so long, she turned to him. As their eyes met, she felt a tremor slither down her spine. "One is," he answered. A shaft of fear thrust through Aradia's chest. She clenched her hands into fists in her lap. "Which one?" "I believe her name is Orithia. She's a small blonde."

Aradia nodded, somewhat relieved but fearful to ask after Marpe. "And the other?" "She killed a man. Her life was forfeit." Squeezing her eyes closed, Aradia turned her head, her teeth clenched. "Rysalian law is strict when it comes to murder. Punishment is meted out quickly and harshly." "Was there a trial?" she asked, but knowing the answer. "Had there been, she would have been beheaded. Best she died as she did--quickly and with no pain." "How did she die?" "Her neck was broken during a scuffle," he said in a matter-of-fact tone that made her cringe. Though she had not known Orithia's friend, Aradia nevertheless mourned a fallen sister warrior. The lives of all women were sacred to her, and she keenly felt the loss. "She died protecting my sister, didn't she?" Lord Jaelan's left eyebrow crooked up. "You are her sister?" "We have the same father." "But not the same mother?" "Her mother is the domestic queen, as I am sure you must know by now." He unfolded his arms and scratched his cheek, the rasping sound loud in the quiet room. "We know little about her, but there has been no offer from your people to pay a ransom." She stiffened. "How much are you demanding?" He shook his head. "Not one copper senti. The king, himself, owns your sister. She has been taken to the seraglio at Abbadon and will live out the remainder of her life as his concubine, unless he grows tired of her and sells her." She stared at him, her fingernails digging into her palms. "That situation will be remedied. I will find a way to release her." He smiled, his white teeth flashing as he again crossed his arms over his chest. "I think not, wench. I've granted you this night to think over your situation, but with the first light of dawn, all bets are off. If you continue your insane mission to liberate your sister, your own freedom will be at stake." Aradia lifted her chin. "What does that mean?" Jaelan shrugged. "It means unless you head back the way you came, I will have your friends arrested and taken to the convent." An arrow of unease passed through Aradia's chest. She gripped the wool of her robe to keep her hands from shaking. Though she feared no man, this one created disquiet in her soul. Looking at him, taking in the male beauty of his face, she had a hard time believing he would be so cruel as to turn them over to their enemies. "You've been warned," he said, planting his feet on the floor. "If I see them anywhere near Abbadon, I will have no choice but to turn them in." He stood, put his hands on the small of his back, and stretched. The very bulk of this powerfully built warrior intimidated Aradia. Despite her many years of training, she doubted she could take him in a fair fight. "You wouldn't want to try," he said, coming to stand beside her. He laid to rest her concerns about his ability to read her mind. Drawing in a quick breath, she peered into the fire, unable to look at him. When he bent over, putting his lips to her ear, she steeled herself not to flinch, to turn away. "It was hot that day at Amberino, was it not, little Amazeen?" he whispered, his breath fanning the wisps of hair at her

temple. "There was a storm brewing. Do you remember? That storm turned vicious by late afternoon." She turned and looked into his eyes, their golden depths deep with amusement. "W...What?" He laid the tips of his callused fingers on her cheek, stroking her flesh as gently as the brush of a butterfly's wings. His eyes held her captive. "As soft as I knew it would be." His gaze moved down to her neckline. He hooked a finger beneath the necklace and lifted it. A fleeting smile crossed his rugged face as he fingered the bead in the middle. "I am pleased you kept this." Aradia's heart pounded, while her mouth formed a stunned "O." With a voice that sounded strange to her own ears, she asked, "That was you?" He nodded, then withdrew his hand, straightening to his full height. "Go home. I would not like to see anything happen to you. I owe you that much." Her mouth suddenly dry, her breathing erratic, she watched him leave, flinching as she took in the thick crisscrossed scars networking his bare back. Legs weak, knees trembling, she stood, covering her mouth with her hands and feeling the cold sweat dampening her palms. She spun around and headed to her room. After scratching at the door to warn Okyale, she pushed open the portal, then leaned against it as it shut. "Up!" she said, the insistence in her voice making Oky blink. "Everyone up!" Phillipa twisted over on her pallet and squinted. "What's wrong?" "Get up, I said! Now!" The others stirred, yawning and wiping their eyes. Phillipa got to her feet and came toward Aradia. "Has something happened?" "He knows why we're here. You have to leave. If you don't, he'll turn you in to the Temple Guards." Phillipa's lips thinned. "You've been talking to him? Did I not warn you to leave him alone?" "Didn't you hear what I said? He knows why we're here. You'll not get within a duquain of Orithia now. You must leave before first light. He's given you until then." "Why do I get the feeling you're not including yourself in this flight?" Phillipa asked. Aradia clenched her hands into fists at her sides, hoping to keep the others from seeing the tremor that threatened to drive her to her knees. "Because I swore to free Orithia, and free her I will." "Without our help?" Phillipa asked, aghast. "Impossible!" "If you do not head back to Amazeen, he'll have the guards after you. If you so much as go near Abbadon, you'll wind up in some convent." She held Phillipa's stare. "Is that what you want?" "Hell, no! Never again. Never,never again!" "Then go. Let me handle this. Better one of us interned in hell than all of us." "You shouldn't have asked him to help," Euryleia complained. "If he hadn't known what you were planning--" "I didn't tell him. He knew me the moment he laid eyes on me." "How?" Phillipa asked. "You've never been to Rysalia." Loathe to explain how the Shadowlord had known her, Aradia threw out a dismissive hand. "Does it matter?" "It does, if you expect us to do as you ask," Phillipa replied. "He reads minds. He knows our very thoughts. That's how he knew what we were about." A muscle worked in Phillipa's scarred jaw. "There is more to it. Isn't there?"

Tears filled Aradia's eyes. "Please, Phillipa. Let it go." When Aradia had first returned from her captivity in Diabolusia, she shared quarters with the older woman. That first month, both Aradia's terrified shrieks and the quiet sobs of a breaking heart had awakened her friend many times. Aradia suspected that Phillipa understood the tears, recognized the signs of a woman deep in the throes of love, but the nightmares had puzzled the older woman. "Did you meet this man in Deseo?" Phillipa asked. "No, of course not!" "But you had met him before tonight." "We were never introduced, but I had seen him before." "Where?" Aradia sighed heavily. "It's of no importance. He's not an enemy so--" Phillipa took Aradia's arm and pulled her down to one of the pallets. "We are not leaving until you tell us what the hell is going on. I want the truth!" Trying to break free of Phillipa's steely clasp proved useless. The older woman obviously had no intention of letting go until her demand was met. "All right!" Aradia snarled, jerking on that iron-hard hold, then grunting in exasperation when Phillipa did not release her. "It's only an hour before sunup," Okyale informed them. "If we are to leave at first light, you'd better start explaining now." Gathering her strength, Aradia yanked her arm from Phillipa's grip. A long moment of silence settled like a heavy blanket over a room that had grown cold from the dying of the fire. Aradia pulled her robe closer around her and shivered more from memories than the temperature. When she began her tale, her voice was monotonic, but soon the others heard emotion creeping into the words and sat spellbound... **** "I do not speak of him, the man I grew to love so dearly, because the pain is as fresh today as it was the night I was forced to leave him. On my tongue, his name is both a blessing and a curse. There is not one hour of any day that thoughts of him do not invade. There is not one moment of any night as I lay in my lonely bed that I do not wish myself at his side. My dreams are filled with his face, my daydreams filled with yearnings I know will never be satisfied. "We were in love, so much in love that neither of us wanted to be apart from the other. We ate together, bathed together, slept beside one another, his arms around me, my head on his strong shoulder. We took long walks in the hills outside Deseo and rode for miles and miles along the seacoast, camping on the beach to watch the sun come up over the Placidia. There was nothing he would not do for me, nothing I would not do for him. Had the occasion arose, I would have given my life for his. That is how much I loved him then and love him still. Neither of us knew what the fates had in store for us, so we blindly plotted the future, planning a life together, happily oblivious to the evil lying in wait. "Had I known what would happen that day, I would have insisted we stay at the palace. But it was my birthday and he wanted to take me to Amberino, to the mountains where amber was being mined, for me to choose the gems he would have made into a necklace for me." Aradia paused and pulled the necklace of amber and onyx beads from inside her robe. She lovingly caressed the honey-gold center bead, larger than the others. In the dim glow of the dying fire, those gathered saw the shadow within the stone and leaned closer for a better look, but Aradia disappointed them by curling her hand around the stone, hiding the inclusion in its center. "It was unbearably hot that day. As we rode, my shirt was plastered to my chest. Using the ostrich fan he had insisted I bring along did nothing to shift the heat pressing against my face. To the west, storm clouds built rapidly, and he ordered one of his men to ride ahead and make sure there would be shelter, for he knew well the sudden fury the

weather can unleash in his country. "The horses panted with the exertion of climbing. It was a remote area, wild, though beautiful, in its savagery. We saw the tracks of pumas and the wiggles of serpents etched in the sand. Cautiously, the guides in front and the guards in back watched for anything that could harm us, so I was not afraid as we ventured higher up Mount Calumbre. "By the time we reached the mining camp, the day had become miserable with heat. A stench made my eyes water, so he handed me his handkerchief and apologized. 'Perhaps,' he said, 'it was not a good idea to bring you here after all.' "I was in total agreement. When I looked around, I couldn't help but feel the despair of the place. Heat ghosts wavered around the sharp rocks and sand devils skipped across the open area before the mine entrance. Guards stood about with rawhide whips curled around their shoulders, and others wore swords and daggers. I heard the snap of a whip hitting what can only be flesh, and I turned to him, my lips trembling. "'Punishment,' he said, 'must be handed out when there are infractions. A worker might have tried to steal a portion of his find, or else he has talked back to one of his subordinates.' "But I saw the pain in his eyes and knew he didn't like the way things were done in his country any more than I did. We had often talked of the changes he would make once he ascended the throne. He felt strongly about the use of forced labor, and when he became king, he planned to end it. "As I looked at him, I saw his eyes shift past mine, then widen, his face draining of color. I turned to see what had caused his reaction, and it was all I could do to curb the roar of outrage that rushed up my throat. "The sight of the thin workers bent beneath the weight of pickaxes and shovels as they trudged wearily from the mine's entrance appalled me. They wore little more than filthy rags, breeches held up with belts made of frayed rope. Most were barefoot, leaving bloody prints in the sand, as they plodded along, heads bent with what must have been complete exhaustion. Their flesh was gray, shrunken on their stooped forms, and the foul odor that had permeated the place grew three times as bad. "The mine superintendent saw us as he exited. For one moment, anger passed over his face before he carefully put a smile on those evil features. He hurried toward us, a heavy cat-o'-nine wrapped around his beefy arm, the shoulder of his shirt smeared with bloodstains. He bowed and scraped, welcoming the heir to the throne to his humble mine. "My lover asked to know why the workers looked so emaciated. He looked around, his teeth grinding, and searched for food wagons. 'Where,' he demanded, 'are the water bearers?' His hands tightened on the saddle pummel, and his horse bumped mine, for even the animal sensed his master's anger. "'The water bearers also work the mines,' we were told, 'and as soon as they come out, the water will be provided.' "'Why do water bearers mine the amber?' my beloved asked. "'The threat of flooding is ever imminent,' the superintendent replied, 'and the rains have come often of late. Every hand has been needed to pump the water from the shafts so the workers do not die in a flash flood.' "My love was so incensed at the pitiful condition of the workers, he ordered the superintendent to have the guards draw the water. When the man tried to argue, insisting the guards must be always at the ready, my wonderful one ordered his own guards down from their mounts to dispense the water. "I saw the superintendent's fury, but he would not gainsay the prince. He stepped aside, bowing ungraciously as our guards scrambled to do their overlord's bidding. The superintendent's upper lip raised, while his beady eyes glowed with an evil from which I found it hard to look away. As his attention shifted back to me, I saw such lechery, such vile contempt in his pig-like eyes, I recoiled, reaching out to take my lover's hand. Our fingers entwined, and the superintendent smirked. He knew I was nothing more than the prince's Amazeen bedmate. "In the distance, the sky grew darker, and lightning crawled across it like silver serpents. The air turned a bit cooler, but remained stifling. My mouth was as arid as the sand beneath our horses' hooves, but I didn't dare ask for water until the miserable wretches greedily drank the brackish liquid provided them. I looked away as water sloshed overdusty throats, torn shirts, and ragged breeches, and knew this was the first quenching of their thirsts they'd had for some time. "My love tightened his grip on my hand and lowered his voice so only I could hear. He promised--on his honor--that conditions would change. He meant to have the superintendent replaced with a compassionate man, one who would see to the workers' needs and would not overwork or abuse them as these poor wretches had been.

"At that moment, a commotion began at the mine entrance. Two guards dragged a man from the mine by his chained hands. They jerked on his bonds and sent him sprawling, face down, in the rock-strewn sand. A mass of fresh welts, bleeding profusely, covered his bare back, and blood splattered his tattered beeches. He was as filthy as his fellow workers, his hair long and straggly, his face hidden behind a matted beard. He struggled to push himself up, but a guard viciously lashed him across his shoulders, cutting a long, savage stripe. I heard his groan of pain that still tears at my heart. "'Do something!' I pleaded with my love. "'Stop!' my beloved cried, vaulting from his saddle. He strode angrily forward, his hands clenched at his sides. 'What has this man done that you should lash him in this manner?' he demanded. "The superintendent spoke to him in low tones I could not hear. I watched as the expression on my beloved's face turned from righteous anger to uncertainty. He turned from the defenseless man on the ground--once more striving to get to his feet--and mounted his horse. My love couldn't look me in the eye when he said there was nothing he could do. The worker had refused to obey an order to go into one of the flooded shafts and was to be executed for his refusal. "I looked back at the worker, who stood but wove from the brutal agony that must have wracked his lean body. Our eyes met. The tawny color looking back at me through black-rimmed sockets--from hunger and weariness and defeat--mesmerized me. In that brief moment, our souls became linked. I felt his hopelessness, experienced the humiliation he had endured. I shifted uneasily in my saddle, feeling the drag of the whip down my own back. "I couldn't let them take this man's life. Even as I looked at him, a guard threw a rope over a tree branch, the noose waiting to encircle the poor man's dirty neck. "'This is my birthday,' I reminded my beloved, forcing him to look at me. I saw confusion wrinkling his brow and almost heard his thought--What has that to do with this?'You promised I could have whatever I wanted,' I said. "His eyes widened. 'Do not ask this of me, Aradia,' he whispered. "'You promised!' I said, standing my ground. 'How often do I ask anything of you?' "He tore his gaze from me to stare across the clearing, his attention riveted to the stumbling man. That attention shifted to the hangman's noose, then skipped away. 'What is it you want?' he asked. "'Give me his life,' I answered. "He flinched. 'Aradia,' he began, his voice low, insistent. "But I cut him off. 'Give me his life to do with as I please,' I said, 'and I will never ask you for anything else as long as I draw breath.' "He sighed deeply, closing his eyes. "The superintendent hurried over. 'This man is a rabble-rouser,' the evil one stressed. 'Let him live and it will be a mistake. We must make an example of him, Your Grace.' "My beloved slowly opened his eyes and looked into the battered face of the condemned man, standing with the noose snug against his throat. They stared at one another for a long moment, and it amazed me how the worker didn't lower his gaze to such an important personage as a prince. "'He has courage, beloved,' I whispered. 'Can you not see that?' "His shoulders sagged. 'I can deny you nothing,' he says softly, then ordered the man set free. "The superintendent grew livid, his beefy face crimson with anger. Eyes bulging, rubbery lips quivering with outrage, he tried to reason with my love, but the prince had made his decision. "'What will you have them do, Aradia?' my beloved asked, ignoring the superintendent's hiss. "'Set him free,' I said. 'See to his wounds, then give him food and water and allow him to return to his home.'

"My beloved nodded. He turned to his Chief Guard and ordered him to see that my instructions were carried out. "Above us, the sky turned black with the approaching storm. The wind picked up and the air cooled to a comfortable temperature. "'We must hurry, Your Grace,' one of the guides said. 'Shelter is another mile up the mountain road. If we are to reach it before the rain, we must leave now.' "My love agreed, and he kicked his mount. As we started moving, I heard a raspy voice call out. I turned to see the freed man loping toward me. His movements were pitiful to watch as he shambled forward. My beloved's guards blocked his path, but I reined in my horse, turned, and met him halfway. Up close, my heart broke when viewing his thin cheeks, the hollows shadowed within the ragged confines of his filthy beard, the blood oozing from beneath the iron bands encircling his scrawny wrists. The cuffs of his torn breeches rode high on his shins, and his ankles were scraped raw, banded with scar tissue from the iron shackles that clanked when he walked. "'Milady,' the abused man said, his voice cracked from disuse, his lips parched and bleeding. He lifted his bound wrists and opened a hand. In the dirt-streaked palm sat a lump of amber. Before I could take it from him, my beloved reined in beside me and plucked the gem from the hand. "'Milady thanks you,' my love said, then waved a signal at his guards to draw back the worker. "I knew better than to say anything, for I'd heard the warning in my beloved's tone. I saw its recognition in the worker's pain-glazed eyes as guards led him away. I did not look back, however, since no worry remained in my mind that the wretched man would be kept safe. The Prince of the Southern Winds had given his word, and that was law to those who heard it. Silently, as a Daughter of the Wind, I prayed for the reprieved man's safety, asking that the Wind be always at his back. "It was not until we were safe inside the mountain shelter, the rain lashing at the windows, that my love handed the gemstone into my keeping. "'A rare and precious piece of amber,' he told me. 'Had they found it secreted on his person, he would have been drawn and quartered.' "I looked at the stone and drew in a breath, for there, embedded in the center of the golden resin, was a perfectly preserved firefly. A web of dust swirls fanned out from it. A lovely specimen I will treasure for as long as I live. To this day, I wear it close to my heart to remind me of all I have lost." **** Euryleia dragged the arm of her robe across her eyes. "The Diabolusian prince must be a wonderful man, Ardy, to grant you such a boon." Phillipa stared at the amber bead. Slowly, she lifted her gaze. "The worker was Lord Jaelan." "Aye," Aradia replied. "He owes his life to you," Okyale said with a long sigh. "And because your Diabolusian showed a weakness by giving in to your request," Phillipa stated, "word of it reached his father." Aradia hung her head. "That was the way of it." "And because the king was apprised of his son's momentary lapse of good judgment, he had a way to rid himself of you." "You call saving a man's life a momentary lapse of good judgment?" Aradia asked. "In his father's eyes, it was," Phillipa replied. "Your kindheartedness brought you nothing but misery, and now it's allowed that man in there to be in a position to stop you from saving one of our own!" "He has stopped me from doing nothing," Aradia said, teeth clenched. "I told you, I intend to uphold my vow to rescue Orithia."

"And he'll make good on his vow to stop you." Phillipa looked at the other women. "Gather your things and let us shake the evil of this place from our shoulders. If our sister wishes to truck with the demon, let her." Stung by Phillipa's nasty tone and angry visage, Aradia said nothing. She watched as the others made ready to leave, with only Euryleia meeting her gaze. "Come with us," Eury pleaded. "If I do not return, know I love each of you and my thoughts will be with you." "Her thoughts are on an amber-eyed devil," Phillipa hissed. She pushed past Okyale and jerked open the door. The sound of her heavy footsteps marked paid to the argument between her and Aradia. Euryleia's face pinched with concern. "This is not the way it should happen." "Go," Aradia insisted, taking her friend's arm and leading her to the door. "Ride with the Wind at your back." **** From his window, Jaelan watched the women trudging through the mud toward the stable. He winced as the older woman--the witch, he had named her in his mind--hammered savagely at the door to wake the stable boy. Half an hour later, a long sigh escaped him when he counted the number of robed women riding from the stable. Just as he knew she would, the one named Aradia had stayed behind. Leaving the window to lie across his bed, his arm thrown over his face, he wasn't sure if he felt anger or exasperation that she had not gone with her countrywomen. Either way, he knew their paths were destined to cross again. He would make sure of it.

Chapter 5 It proved easy to follow her tracks in the mud. The rain had turned the roadway to a quagmire along which no wheeled conveyance could pass. Even his stallion's hooves made sucking sounds. He kept well behind, knowing where she was going, content to let her travel. He had eaten a leisurely breakfast while his horse was being saddled and had taken to the road an hour after her. The morning light was like dull gray wool spread over the heavens, and a cool breeze kept him alert. Occasionally he thought of homing in on her thoughts, but a part of him was loath to use his talents to pluck her musings from the ether. Reading her mind had proven effortless the evening before simply because she had not been expecting his invasion of her privacy. Today, however, he knew she would be on guard and might sense him trying to intrude. He knew he needed the element of surprise when dealing with this woman, so he kept his probing in check even though he itched to know what she thought about him. Over the years, he had thought of her more often than he cared to admit. His nightmares led him back to her that day; his dreams sent him beyond the moment they parted; his daydreams built fleeting scenarios in which they were more than strangers passing on a storm-driven day. The endings of his imaginings were far different than that which had actually happened after she and her prince had ridden away. Shaking free of the memories, he kicked his heels against the stallion's side. The wind picked up, and when he looked to the west, he frowned at the black clouds building on the horizon. Abbadon fortress lay ten miles to the north, but

even at a fast clip, he knew he would not make it before the storm came. With it, he could sense the dangerous lightning. A few miles ahead, though, caves would provide ample shelter. His only concern was whether the Amazeen would stop there for sanctuary. "Then don't give her a choice," he thought as he heard distant rumbling behind him. Using his god's-given gift had never proven to be difficult. Most times, nudging people to do as he bid was simply a matter of "thinking" the action into their minds, planting it like a seedling and allowing it to spread its roots. He was careful how and with whom he exercised his supernatural endowment, for once he established control over an individual, it became tempting to continue leading them. His care extended to making sure the object of his suggestion was not aware of his meddling. With a threat looming behind them, he knew he would need to throw caution to the wind and break into the Amazeen's thoughts. "Are you near the caves, wench?"he whispered, though his lips never moved. He closed his eyes, picturing her plodding along on the gray mare. "They are over there," she replied in his mind. He knew she would not realize she had spoken, would not even remember lifting her hand and pointing to the cave system. "Make for the one on the left. The one with the smallest opening,"he sent out to her. "Do you see it?" "Aye." "Go inside. Do not be surprised when I join you. I am no danger to you. Do you understand?" He saw her nod, then direct her mount toward the cave. Letting out a long breath, he urged his steed to a faster pace. Having no desire to get soaked as he had the night before, he grew anxious. The thought of a dry cave, a shimmering fire built at the entrance to ward off the chilly winds skirling outside as rain lashed, filled him with a peacefulness he had not known for a long time. **** Aradia looked up as the shadow fell over her, blotting out the feeble light from the cave's entrance. She did not start, did not reach for her weapon, though the dagger lay close at hand as Jaelan led his horse into the high-walled enclosure. Instead, she went back to trying to start the fire from the brush she had gathered. She cast him an annoyed look as he unsaddled his mount and left it beside her own at the back of the cave. The smell of wet horse became overpowering. "Need some help?" he asked, running a hand over his wet face. She shrugged. "The wood's wet. I don't know if we'll get more than smoke." Jaelan peeled off his leather jacket. "Have faith, wench." "If I didn't, I would have ventilated you as soon as I saw you, warrior," she mumbled, wrapping her arms around her to ward off the cold. He chuckled and hunkered beside her. "Shall I start shaking in my boots now, or wait until you've proven you can wield that toy blade with some degree of expertise?" She snorted, refusing to rise to his baiting. She moved to sit on a low ledge, propping her chin in her hand, staring at him as he fanned the fire to life. "How long do you think the rain will last?" "Until it ends." "Oh, clever response, warrior. Shall I laugh now, or wait until you've proven you can wield humor with some degree of expertise?" "She walks, she talks, she repeats phrases like a parrot." "Funny. Are you allowed to have a sense of humor, Shadowlord?"

The smile on Jaelan's face slipped away. "No." Aradia watched him adjust the sticks, then sit cross-legged before the fire, staring into the flames. The red-gold flicker playing across his face lit the amber glow in his eyes, brought out the shine of his dark hair. She thought she had never seen as handsome a male as the one sharing the damp cave with her. "You know I will not allow you to gain access to the woman at Abbadon," he whispered. She shrugged. "And you know I will keep trying." "You like to court danger, do you?" "I don't go looking for it, but neither will I run from it. I vowed to bring my sister home, and honor decrees I do everything in my power to make that happen." "As I will do everything in mine to make sure you don't." He looked into the fire. "Unless..." "Unless what?" The fire burned nicely, the heat warming the dank confines. Jaelan scooted over to lean his back against the wall. He crossed his booted ankles and folded his arms. "Unless we can come to an understanding." Aradia cocked her head. "What do you have in mind, warrior?" He hitched his right shoulder. "A compromise, of sorts." "Compromise is good," she said, scratching her cheek. "Tell me what you're thinking and I'll tell you if it's doable." A slow smile tugged at Jaelan's expressive mouth. "Oh, it will be doable, wench, or your sister stays where she is." Dragging in a long breath, Aradia waited for him to give her the particulars of the deal he seemed intent on making. She refused to allow the nervousness clogging her throat or the expectation pumping furiously through her veins to give the slightest hint of her eagerness to hear what he had to say. Pretending nonchalance proved the hardest thing she had done of late, but she held her ground and her tongue, and waited. But Jaelan seemed in no hurry to put his cards on the table. The silence unraveled, save for the pummeling of rain outside the cave. He closed his eyes and appeared to be courting sleep. Aradia lowered her head, giving in to the tiredness catching up with her. Time dripped away, raindrop-by-raindrop, and the stillness became a battle of wills with neither willing to end the stalemate. As minutes dragged by, nerves began to fray. They turned to one another at the same time, each impressed with the other's ability to bide his or her time. "All right. Spit it out," Aradia said, angry at giving in first. "I can set her free, and see her safely across the border." "Why would you do that?" "Because I can." "You have that much authority?" "I do." Aradia ran her fingers over her mouth. "I assume there are conditions." "There always are." She bit her lips. "And what are they?" "Only one." A muscle ticked in his lean cheek. "You remain in Rysalia." Aradia's eyes widened and her face drained of color. "You would install me in the convent in exchange for Orithia's

freedom?" Jaelan frowned. "Did I mention the convent?" "The seraglio?" she asked, horror turning her voice shrill. "You mean for me to take her place in Jaleem's bed?" "No, not in the king's bed." Her heart raced painfully in her chest. "Then some other man's bed?" He nodded. "Whose?" "Mine." She stared at him and saw steely determination looking back at her. It both frightened and thrilled her. She didn't know how to respond, so used a weapon she knew how to employ--rudeness. "Oh, in that case, of course. Why not? I barely know you from suppurating road kill, but what the heck? I haven't had a man in five years. I got thrown out of the royal palace at Deseo when my boyfriend was forced to Join with a snow hag, so I'm horny as hell right about now. You could be diseased or practice strange sexual atrocities on your partners, but sure, I'll jump at the chance of being bedded by a fearsome Shadowlord who people fear to cross." Her eyes narrowed, and her lips skinned back from her teeth. "Are you addled? What the hell are you thinking, warrior? Or am I giving you too much credit for being able to reflect at all? What would possess you to...?" Jaelan turned his gaze toward the fire. "I was thinking of the woman who saved my life. I was thinking I would like to share that life with her because she pleases me and I believe we would do well together." Aradia snapped her mouth shut, unable to believe she'd heard the words come from the powerful man sitting across from her. His face looked stone-cold hard, his posture just as rigid as the rock wall on which he leaned. He had thrown the ball into her court and awaited her comments. Nothing in his manner bespoke hurry or concern, nor did he seem anxious for her reply. Supreme confidence on his part, or indifference to whatever decision she made? Or nervousness that she would reject him and thus had prepared himself by acting nonchalant? When she finally spoke, her voice sounded strained. "Am I to assume this is not a joke?" He nodded, but did not look at her. "Nor a test of my loyalty to Orithia?" "Our negotiation has nothing to do with your sister. She is merely a bargaining point." Aradia raised her chin. "What exactly is it you want, warrior?" Jaelan finally looked at her. "I want you." He held up a staying hand when she opened her mouth to reply. "Let me explain something before you jump down my throat with your righteous anger, wench." "Stop calling me that!" she snapped, infuriated by the word. He ignored her outburst, uncrossed his ankles, and raised one leg. He rested his wrist on his knee, flexing his fingers as though they pained him. "I could just as easily arrest you, tie you to your horse, and take you with me to Abbadon as my prisoner. I could go before the Magistrate, ask for, and be given, ownership of you to do with as I please." Aradia's mouth dropped open. "No one would gainsay me, and no one would dare interfere. This is Rysalia, and men rule this world with impunity. Women have no legal standing. You would have no recourse whatsoever and would be treated as chattel. Should I grow weary of you, I could take you to the slave market and sell you." He crooked his head. "I would venture to say you'd net me a tidy sum if stripped and paraded before the aristocracy."

Her mouth as devoid of moisture as a baking desert, Aradia felt bile creeping up her throat. "Or I could give you to my best friend--to anyone I care to, actually--as a gift." "Try doing any of that, warrior," she seethed, "and I would slit your throat and--" "The reason I was chosen as a Death Lord is because I have certain abilities other men don't." He locked gazes with her. "You know I can read minds, but do you know I can influence what people do?" She smiled nastily. "If that is true, why did you not free yourself from the mine?" "Did you see the iron bands welded to my wrists and ankles and neck, little Amazeen? If you did, you saw the only way those bastards had to control me. The confining of my body with iron shackles can negate my abilities. The water I was given to drink was heavy with iron deposits, and that only added to the restriction of my powers." Aradia remembered well the iron circling his dirty flesh. She remembered, too, the blood seeping from the raw sores on his wrists and ankles. Though she had not noticed an iron collar around his neck, she had no reason to doubt the brutal restraint had encumbered him. "Brutal restraint," he repeated, letting her know he had intercepted her thoughts. "A good way to put it. Brutality was a way of life for me--until you came along." "And you would repay my kindness by imprisoning me," she said, refusing to allow her pity for the man to show on her face. "I could make you come with me against your will and you would never realize what was happening. I could make you so hot with passion you would be hard put to keep your hands off me." "Oh, for the love of Aluvial! You have a high opinion of your appeal, don't you?" "I sent you here to this cave and told you not to be concerned when I arrived. You never once questioned my appearance, did you?" Unease flitted through Aradia. She tucked her lower lips between her teeth. "A...a storm was coming...the caves were handy. Any fool would've had sense to come in out of bad weather. As for being unconcerned when you showed up, I knew you were behind me. I figured you'd catch up sooner or later." Jaelan did not deign to refute her words. "Believe what you will." "So why not order me to do what you want? Wouldn't that make things easier for you?" "That would be cheating. I want you to come to me of your own free will, not because I have mentally ordered you." "Yet you would blackmail me into having no choice in the matter." Jaelan shrugged. "Every compromise has its drawbacks, wench. I needed leverage, and your sister's freedom is it." "You may not like cheating, but you don't play fair, either!" He raised his other knee and encircled his legs within the parameters of his arms, one hand gripping the wrist of the other. "I'm allowing you to make the choice. If you tell me you're not interested, you can go on your way. Should you attempt to enter Abbadon, though, I'll have no choice but to arrest you and bring you to the convent at Raven's Hill. At least there I'd know you'd be safe, for the Sisters of Peace are well protected by the Ben-Alkazar family." He arched a thick brow. "What's it to be, Aradia?" Her name on his tongue sent shivers of pleasure down her spine. From the first moment she had seen him at the mine, she had felt drawn to him, linked by a cosmic bond she could not explain. When she had touched his arm at the inn, she had felt the urge to know the tactile strength in those powerful arms, to experience the touch of his strong hands upon her. Every sense she possessed strained to know this commanding warrior, yet she knew such feelings were dangerous. "I would give you the protection of my name and my honor," he told her, easily reading her mental confusion. "I would offer my companionship, my worldly goods, and the fidelity you are due."

"You almost make it sound like we will be Joined." "We would." She blinked. "Legally?" "As legally as a Temple Magistrate can make our union." Her womb did a funny little jump, and she pressed a hand to her belly. "But why would you want to make it legal? You can have the milk but not have to purchase the cow, warrior." Jaelan winced. "If I simply wanted milk, wench, I'd keep the cow I have." Jealousy stabbed through Aradia's heart. She narrowed her eyes. "You already have a woman? What do you need with another?" He shook his head. "She's not my woman. She's a mean-spirited, evil-tempered, black-hearted witch who comes reluctantly to my bed to relieve me once a fortnight because she's paid to do so. Neither she nor I like the arrangement, but my king thought I needed thepleasure of a woman's body and ordered her Whoremaster to see to it. The king said I was getting unbearable and needed the calming of a gentler hand." He snorted. "As though Saahira had anything gentle about her. The woman is deadlier than an asp and hates me as much as I hate her." "Then why not send her on her way?" "You do not throw the king's gift in his face unless you have a prophet-be-damned good reason to do so." "I see. Joining would be a good enough reason," she said dryly. He cocked a shoulder. "I've thought of strangling the bitch and being done with it, but with my luck, he'd send one even worse--like her sister Heqet--and I'd be right back where I started." "So you're offering me the job of being the one to relieve you," she said with a grunt of disgust. "Tell me you don't want it," he said, holding her gaze. Aradia said nothing. She stared into his golden eyes, once more mesmerized by the reflection of the leaping flames, lost in the tawny depths that caused her lower belly to quiver again. "Tell me you don't want me," he said in a throaty whisper that sent shivers down her arms. She fought the urge to throw herself on him, pummel his chest and demand he release her from the supernatural hold he may well have cast over her. No mortal man could cause the conflicting emotions churning in her breast. Her skin felt hot, though she sat far enough away from the fire. Her knees trembled as though she had run a marathon, yet she felt calmer than she had any right to feel. Her heartbeat had slowed, but still thudded against her ribcage. She felt an ache in her loins she thought she'd never experience again, and that longing drew her to him like a moth to a flame. "Let's just say, for argument's sake, I agree. How do I know you will be good to me, warrior?" "On my honor, I swear I would never hurt you. Nor would I let anyone else hurt you. I would give my life for you, if need be." His words made her quiver, but before she gave into him--as she knew she would--she wanted to define the boundaries of their bargain. "Youpromise to set Orithia free?" "I vow I will see it done." "You willnot hand me over to either the convent or the seraglio?" "You have my oath. I would die before I'd allow you to be interned inside either." "You willnot turn me out or give me to another." "The only man who'll ever possess you is the one you now look upon. It will be to my quarters you go, and to no other's. And as I stated, I'd rather have my skin flayed from my bones than have you know a moment's pain, Milady."

Aradia looked at her hands, opening and closing her fists, wondering if she was doing the right thing. It was a decision she understood would last a lifetime and not one to be made lightly. "What if something should happen to you?" "I'll make provisions that you are to be returned to Amazeen should there ever come a time when I cannot uphold my end of our bargain. I'll instruct my friend, Aluino, to see that my wishes are carried out. He's a good man and as honorable as they come." There was one last area to discuss, and Aradia felt too afraid to broach the subject. He, however, was not. "Should there be children from our union, they will be given a child's portion of my estate as befitting their position in the birth cycle, with the most going to the eldest son, my heir." "And if there are no sons?" she asked, concerned. "Females cannot inherit under Rysalian law, but a dowry will be set aside for each girl-child. If she would rather leave and make her home in Amazeen, I'll see that she has that option when she reaches her majority. She need not stay in Rysalia and be compelled to marry if that is not her wish. Her portion of the estate, however, will be forfeit if she leaves." "Because?" "Because her grandmother, the Amazeen queen, will provide for her." Aradia drew in her breath. "You knew who I was all along." "I know everything about you, Aradia Lykopis." "But how?" He smiled, but the emotion never reached his tawny eyes. "When the smithy finished cutting away the iron bands from my wrists, the Chief Guard told me all I wished to know, though he will not have remembered doing so." Aradia blushed. "Then you knew I belonged to..." She could not say his name no matter how hard she tried. "The prince?" Jaelan's jaw tightened. "I knew." "And you still want me?" A severe look passed over Jaelan Ben-Ashaman's face. "As I have never wanted another woman." The surrender was easier than she thought it would be. His declaration stilled the uneasiness in her mind and she relaxed, accepting her fate as the goddess no doubt had intended. Despite her warrioress upbringing and severe indoctrination that regarded men as nothing more than slaves, servants, and breeding potential, a part of her wanted to experience love again, the gentle touch of a kind and generous man. She ached to have a companion, a man to love and cherish her, one with whom she could share the burdens of life as well as the moments of happiness. "I will do everything within my power to make sure you never regret your bargain, Aradia." She left the safety of the rock ledge and sat beside him. He lowered his left leg, stretching it out alongside her leg, and entwined his fingers with hers. Her heart missed a beat when he lifted her hand to his lips and sealed their agreement with a gentle kiss upon her knuckles. "It seems to be raining harder," he commented. "I never knew it rained so much in the desert countries." "We are in the middle of our rainy season." It seemed natural to rest her head on his broad shoulder. She did not grow alarmed when he released her hand and moved his arm behind her, drawing her closer, holding her to his side. Her right hand remained on his taut thigh, feeling the power of the muscles beneath the sleek leather of his breeches. She closed her eyes when he lowered his

head to hers. He covered her hand with his, again threading his fingers through hers. "I feel safe, warrior," she admitted. His grip on her fingers tightened possessively. "That is how I always want you to feel,wench ." She smiled at his deliberate use of the word. To him, it had probably become a term of endearment. When she did not respond, he chuckled. Before sleep claimed her, she heard the patter of rain, felt the warmth of the fire, smelled the cinnamon scent of his after-shave, and ached with the pleasure of having his strong body so close. "Sleep easy,aziza ," he whispered, and planted a light kiss on the top of her head.

Chapter 6 Orithia had a bruise on her cheek, but the king had a bloody nose. Naked, she stood arms akimbo, moving as he moved, her eyes narrowed as she watched him circling her. His feints made her smile grimly. "Go ahead," she baited. "Try it again and see what it gets you, you wretched cur." King Hasani Jaleem grinned wickedly. "Patience, my sweet one. We'll get there, you and I." "The only thing you're going to get, you despicable ass, is a black eye to go with that dripping hawk beak of a nose." The king had not had so much fun with one of his women since his 35thconcubine. None of his 27 wives had ever cared enough to do more than lie docilely beneath him as he took them, and only a handful of the 369 concubines had ever interested him enough to do more than bed them once out of courtesy, then forget they existed. It was only because the 35thhad developed a hilarious case of the hiccups as he rutted with her that he had enjoyed the romp. The memory still had the ability to make him laugh. This one was proving to be very entertaining. "Tell me, little Amazeen," he said, sweeping a hand toward her and growing more amused as she gracefully sidestepped his half-hearted attempt to catch her, "are you one of those females who prefer the touch of a woman to the touch of a man?" Orithia rolled her eyes. "Amazeen's are not bent in that fashion, you malodorous pig." "That's good to know. I did not want to waste time seducing you if the effort would be useless." Snorting her contempt, Orithia swatted away his hand when he had grabbed at her arm. "What part of 'no' don't you understand, you sniveling baboon? You aren't going to seduce me. I won't allow it." Heaving a long sigh, the king--also as naked as the day he was born--stopped. He spread his hands in a gesture of confusion. "What is it I am, pretty one? A pig, a baboon, a mangy cur? I can't beall of them." Orithia raised her chin and looked down her pretty nose at him. "You are," she said, advancing on him until she stood bare toe to bare toe with his regal person, "a vile, loathsome, repugnant, depraved, contemptible..." With his arm, the king hooked her around the waist and drew her body to his, the sound of flesh slapping together rang loud in the opulent room. He circled her in his embrace and claimed her mouth with a deep, heady kiss that brought her eyes wide with surprise. When his tongue slipped between her parted lips, she felt her knees grow weak, but it did not stop her from digging her sharp nails into his shoulders. His grunt--muffled by her mouth--amused her, and she dug deeper, drawing blood. Releasing his captive's lips, the king stared into her beautiful, defiant face and felt something he had not experienced since his teenage years--unbridled, overpowering passion that turned his shaft as hard as stone. He ached with a lust

that brought sweat to his upper lip and caused his breath to go shallow and fast in his chest. "Let me go," Orithia commanded, not really wishing to be released from his strong embrace, but feeling she should protest. "Marry me." One fine blonde brow lifted in challenge. "Why would I want to do that?" "I will make you my number-two wife," he said, breathing hard. "Should Nadira, my first wife, die, I will make you my prime wife with all that implies." Orithia cocked her head. "And whatdoes that imply, you pitiful specimen of a man?" "Wealth," he said, nibbling her neck. "Freedom such as you would not know if you were a mere concubine or lower-level wife." He flicked his tongue into the spiral of her ear. "Position at the court. Power as no other woman might wield in Rysalia." He moved his lips to her cheek, her forehead, her nose. "Me in your bed every night." "No." Stunned, he pulled back, blinking his confusion. "Why not? Do you not understand what it is I am offering you?" "I don't want any man in my bed every night, you wallowing hippopotamus. Make it two nights a week and we have a deal." He shook his head. "Five nights." "Three," she countered, wiggling against the steely shaft poking her thigh. "Done." He slid his mouth to hers, sealing the bargain. As he took her to the floor of the silken bedchamber, Orithia grinned her triumph. To her, she had turned an onerous situation into one over which she had some control. Technically she was still a prisoner--albeit, a cosseted one--but also in a position where eventually she might brandish a measure of authority. That she could capture the king's attention had never been in question. That she could carry out her plan to make him her love slave and hold the man's unwavering attention had given her a few moments of doubt. When first he had entered her silken cell, he had approached her with seeming indifference and had attempted to rape her, no other word for it. When she slapped him, he slapped her back, true anger brewing on his florid face. When she punched him in the nose, he staggered away, holding his wounded appendage, stunned surprise in his black eyes. Surprise turned to intrigue when she continued to elude him and refused to do his bidding. Intrigue turned to amusement, and finally, the amusement to delight. "I am going to make you love me, you spineless eel," she whispered in his ear, biting the tender lobe to elicit another grunt from his questing mouth. "You can try," he grated, thrusting inside her to the hilt. "I'll do more than try." She ignored the stinging pain between her thighs and threw her legs around him, capturing his hips between her legs. If his wild coupling was any indication, she had him exactly where she meant to keep him. Now, all she had to do was make sure Prime Queen Nadira met her Maker as soon as possible. **** Aluino saw the king hobbling down the corridor and bowed. "Good Morning, Majesty." "As good a morning as I have ever had, Vasquez," the king said hoarsely. "Where is Jaelan this fine day?" Should he have straightened to his full six-foot, four-inch height, Aluino would have towered over King Hasani Jaleem. Making a conscious effort to slouch so as not to make the difference in stature any more noticeable, the Diabolusian smiled apologetically. "I am not sure, Your Grace. I believe he rode to Daedal last eve." "In the rain?" The king frowned as he touched his swollen nose.

"You know how he loves such weather, Your Grace. The rain would not have deterred him in a quest for Olufemi's cooking." "Ah, the caravansary. Aye, I know how he enjoys the company of peasants." Aluino smiled through clenched teeth. "Do you wish for me to find Lord Jaelan, Sire?" "I suppose you must, Vasquez, for I need to send a missive to Amazeen regarding my new wife." Schooling his face not to show shock, Aluino cleared his throat. "Your new wife, Majesty?" "Find Jaelan and tell him he will need to send a representative to Amazeen with news of my impending nuptials." He waved a dismissive hand. "Ben-Ashaman will know the right person to send. Pray tell him not to bother me with details." Left standing with mouth open, Aluino stared after the monarch and wondered what ailed him, for he moved gingerly as though he had been injured in the privates. If all Aluino had heard about the Amazeen race--and the captive blonde girl, in particular--was true, he suspected the prospective new bride had shown in spades her protest of the upcoming marriage. That being the case, things might escalate past the point of easy control, if not dealt with immediately. Aluino suspected the captive's family would not be pleased with the news of her forced marriage to an Outlander and would retaliate. It was one thing for the girl to be cast into the seraglio and forgotten, ransomed easily once a request came from her kinsmen. It happened all the time, since the king bedded, then ignored, the women he purchased. Jaelan had been given orders to do with the women as he saw fit. "I feel like a prophets-be-damned marriage broker," Jaelan had once complained. The Shadowlord was careful to see the discarded women made good matches from among the military men over whom he had authority. It astounded Aluino that a foreign woman had not only garnered the king's attention, but that he would take her in legal Joining. That had never happened. Each of King Hasani's legal wives had come from Hasdu tribes wishing to make alliances with the House of Jaleem. Not one had come from beyond the Great Sea. Unheard of, and it presented a problem that would surely cause trouble in the Tribunal. Anxious to find Jaelan and apprise him of this disastrous turn of events, Aluino practically ran for the stables. **** "Good morn," Jaelan said as Aradia pushed to a sitting position. She had spent the night lying beside him, her head in the crook of his shoulder, his arm around her. He had covered them with his still-damp leather jacket, for the fire had gone out long ago. "Good morn, warrior," she said, unable to look at him. Painfully aware she had shown this man weakness in so easily falling asleep beside him, she got to her feet, brushing the back of her robe. "That thing reeks of offal," Jaelan commented as he looked up at her. "It was rubbed with..." She blushed. "Well, you know what it was rubbed with." Jaelan's left brow quirked. "May I ask why you felt the need to rub body waste on your robe, wench?" She shrugged. "To keep men from paying any closer attention to us than need be." Understanding made his tawny eyes sparkle. "I see the wisdom in what you did, if I don't care for the end result." "I have other clothes on my nag. If I could find a stream in which to..." "There's a village not far from here with a public bath house. We have time for you to bathe." "That would be a relief." He chuckled. "Are you hungry?" "Starving."

"We can break our fast after you've rid yourself of the stink." She looked at the cave entrance. "I need to..." "I'll saddle the horses while you attend to your need," he said, getting to his feet. He swept the sand from his palms. "Be careful and watch for vipers." "Snakes," Aradia said, shuddering. "I hate snakes." "Just stay away from low clusters of rocks and you should be fine." Mumbling as she exited the cave, Aradia shielded her eyes from the harsh sunlight. Heat pressed down from the heavens. From the sun's position, she knew it was well past dawn, and wondered why Jaelan had allowed her to sleep so late. Picking her way over the sharp scree, she avoided the areas Jaelan had warned her about and found a private spot where she hitched up her robe and squatted. She groaned as she relieved her bladder's ache and kept a close watch for any slithering creatures. In the intense heat, the smell from her robe sickened her, and she could well understand why Jaelan had been offended. By the time Aradia returned to the cave, Jaelan had saddled her horse and had turned his attention to his black stallion. "He's a gorgeous piece of horseflesh," she commented. He settled the padding over the mount's back. "He knows it, too. He's from a long line of prize-winning stallions." Cautiously, she stroked the bridge of the stallion's nose. She gifted the handsome steed with a cube of sugar she found in her robe. "What's his name?" "Antar. It is Rysalian for 'strong one.'" "It suits him." "What did you name your mare?" "She was a gift from..." She looked away. "A friend. He named her." Glancing at the pretty gray mare, Jaelan drew the name "Andeana" from Aradia's thoughts and delved further to learn it was Diabolusian for "she who is leaving." He made no comment, for she did not seem inclined to tell him the horse's name. "Ready to ride?" She looked at the ground. "What happens when we reach Abbadon, warrior?" "Jaelan," he corrected. When she met his gaze, he smiled. Reluctantly, she echoed his smile. "That name suits you, too." "In Rysalian, it means 'orphan,' and aye, it describes me well enough." Not giving her a chance to comment, he led his stallion out of the cave. When she exited, she saw the western sky had darkened once more. "Not more rain." "It will be a while before it reaches us. Do you need help mounting?" "Of course not." She swept aside the hem of her robe, gripped the pommel, and easily mounted. She adjusted the reins and shifted more comfortably in the saddle. "The women of my race are born horse masters." He swung atop his own horse. When the stallion moved forward, eager to run, Jaelan controlled the spirited animal with a squeeze of his powerful thighs. He bent forward and patted the sleek black neck. "He's unaccustomed to being cooped up as he was last eve." "She, too," Aradia replied, having difficulty keeping her mount checked. The mare sidestepped, as if flirting with the stallion and as eager as he to race. "Perhaps we should give them a chance to rid themselves of the pent-up energy."

"After you." Jaelan backed the stallion out of her path. He grinned as she kicked her mount in the flanks and shot forward. Sitting for a moment, he admired the way Aradia and her horse took to the road, as graceful and powerful as a fabled centaur of ages past, beast and mistress moving as one entity. With a nudge of his heels, he gave the stallion permission to chase the pretty gray mare. Aradia looked over her shoulder to see the Shadowlord gaining. She bent forward, cutting the wind resistance. When the stallion and mare came neck-to-neck, she raced alongside Jaelan Ben-Ashaman, feeling a freedom she had not known for a long time. She gloried in the rhythmic beat of the hooves on the soft dirt, the rush of the wind through her hair. A sidelong glance at her companion told her he, too, enjoyed the ride. When Andeana grew tired of her all-out run and slowed, the stallion seemed to sense the mare's mood and matched her stride for stride. Before long, the tile roofs of a village came into view. "Uadjit," Jaelan called to her, pointing to the settlement. Aradia nodded, anxious for a long, hot bath. The stink on her robe no longer bothered her, for she had grown accustomed to the smell, but the scratchy wool, the heat of its fabric making her perspire, she would not miss. They rode into Uadjit. The few people milling about quickly vanished, pulling curtains over windows, closing and locking doors. "Inhospitable bunch, aren't they?" Jaelan's jaw went tight, his face hard. "They know me here." "You don't seem welcome," she quipped. "I'm not." He rode toward the largest building in the square. Aradia thought she saw the surreptitious movement of curtains being pulled aside, but couldn't be sure. She heard no sound--not even the snorting of animals--as Jaelan swung his leg over his stallion's head and slid off. As his booted feet met the ground, the distant sound of thunder shook the heavens. "Oh, that was a particularly telling thing to have happen," he scoffed through clenched teeth. "What?" she asked, dismounting. "The prophets-be-damned thunder announcing the arrival of the demon and his consort." Aradia started to ask what he meant, but he had doubled his fist and began beating on the door in front of him, rattling the portal in its frame. It wouldn't have surprised Aradia if the door remained locked to them. But it squeaked open, and a tall, white-haired man appeared. Silently, he moved aside to allow them to enter. "I need a hot bath for the lady," Jaelan ordered. The elderly man nodded. He beckoned Aradia to accompany him into, what she realized, was a public tavern and inn. "You're safe here, wench," Jaelan said. "I'll make arrangements with the magistrate while you're bathing." "Arrangements?" Jaelan met her gaze. "The Joining might as well take place here." Aradia felt the old man stiffen beside her. She thought she saw shock registering in his rheumy blue eyes before he looked at the floor. His low groan must have reached Jaelan's ears, for the Shadowlord's voice came overly loud and nasty. "She's not a nun, if that's what concerns you, Grandfather. I'm not ravishing a holy woman, so you have no need to fear for her immortal soul!" The old man sighed, but remained silent. He stood with his hands clasped, waiting patiently for Aradia to proceed him through a low archway hung with crystal beads.

"Just go," Jaelan ordered. He jerked open the door, then slammed it shut behind him. "This way, Milady," the old man whispered. He swept his arm toward the darkness beyond the archway. Moving through the beaded curtain and into the shadowy confines of a narrow corridor, Aradia smelled bread baking. Her mouth watered, and unconsciously she licked her dry lips. "Are you hungry, Milady?" the man asked, his voice still no louder than a whisper. "Starved." "I will see to a meal for you, if you like." "I would be most grateful for any kindness, Grandfather." Through the gloom, she saw astonishment pass over the man's wrinkled face. A violent quiver ran through his slight body when she touched his thin arm. His fear hurt her. "Please don't be afraid of me." His face softened. "It is not you I fear, Milady." The aged one led her into the bathing chamber, where a young girl emptied buckets of water into a deep copper tub. She moved as though sleepwalking between the shiny tub and a huge black caldron, in which water bubbled over a blazing fire and made the room humid. "My granddaughter Naseema, Milady," the man said. "She's mute, but her hearing is keen. Just ask and she will do all she can to fulfill your needs." "She can't speak?" Aradia asked, glancing at the beautiful girl. He straightened his shoulders. "Once she could...before punishment descended upon our household. Now, she will never speak again." Fearing she knew all too well what must have befallen the girl, Aradia asked no more questions. She waited until he left, then sat on a low bench to pull off her boots. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the girl watching. A bit self-consciously, she stood and pulled the smelly robe over her head. Aradia grimaced when getting a whiff of the hem as it passed under her nose. "By the goddess, that is ripe!" Without a second thought, she went to the fire and threw the robe in the flames. The odds of her ever needing it again seemed slim, especially with Jaelan intent on seeing them Joined before leaving for Abbadon. Clad only in the thin chemise that had given her flesh little protection from the ravaging, coarse robe, Aradia sat on the bench again, waiting for the girl to finish filling the tub. "I didn't think to get the clothes from my saddle bags. Would you fetch them for me, Naseema?" The girl nodded. She poured in the last bucket of water, then turned to do as bid. While reaching for the door handle, she jumped back as the portal swung inward and Jaelan appeared. Acute fear flashed over the girl's pretty face. A stifled shriek, hastily confined behind a violently trembling hand, turned to a low keening of terror. Naseema scrambled out of the way, slamming into the far wall and sliding to the floor, her arms over her head. Aradia stood, intending to go to the girl. Jaelan took her arm. "Leave her be," he said, his voice tight. "Can't you see she's scared out of her wits?" Aradia asked, trying to break free of his hold. "Out, Naseema," he ordered. The girl shot to her feet as though a rocket had been strapped to her back. She rushed from the room, panting. Aradia rounded on Jaelan. "What the hell happened to her? What did you do to her?"

Blood flooded Jaelan's face. His gaze hardened. "I've never laid a hand on her." "Well, someone did! One look at you and she nearly piddled!" A muscle bunched in his lean cheek. He let go of her arm. "Take your bath. We're to meet with the magistrate in half an hour." Aradia blinked, her jaw dropping. "Not until you tell me what made that poor girl rush out of here like the hounds of hell were nipping at her ankles." His golden eyes narrowed dangerously, but Aradia held her ground, meeting his angry stare with a resolved one of her own. Folding her arms over her thin cotton chemise, she waited for his answer. "You won't like what I tell you," he said at last. "Try me." Letting out a harsh breath, he ran his hand through his dark curls. "I executed her husband, Rami. Are you satisfied?" "What had he done?" "People overheard him planning an assassination attempt on King Hasani. I was dispatched to take care of the matter." The muscle in his cheek clenched and unclenched. "That is who I am. That is what I do." "And is slicing his wife's tongue from her mouth part of what you do, as well, warrior?" "I told you, I never touched her! The Tribunal ordered it done by the Magistrate's own hand.He carried out the punishment." "Then why is she so terrified of you?" "They're all afraid of me, or haven't you noticed?" "The old man certainly is." "As well he should be, since his son is the Magistrate, and it was his grandson I killed!" Aradia's face paled. "The Magistrate did that to his own daughter-in-law?" "The Tribunal is a brutal taskmaster, Aradia. Best you learn that now before we reach Abbadon. When you serve them, you do as they bid or suffer the consequences. Had he not cut out Naseema's tongue, he would have watched her throat slit and her body tossed on the funeral pyre atop her husband's. Since she was great with child, he took the lesser of the two evils." Tears filled her eyes at the injustice of what had happened. "Why would they punish her if it was her husband who was guilty?" Jaelan stared at the ceiling, as though striving to gain strength to answer her, as though the correct words lay written on the smoke-stained beams overhead. When he looked at her, he sounded tired. "Because she would not stop pledging her husband's innocence, even when Lord Gehenna demanded her silence. He warned her. I warned her, but she was too deeply caught up in her grief to hear us. I tried to reason with the Tribunalist. I bid him have mercy since she was little more than a child. But Lord Gehenna refused to listen and ordered the girl's tongue removed." His shoulders slumped. "He takes great delight in meting out that particular punishment." For several moments, Aradia looked at him, seeing a side of him she knew existed but had overlooked, had tried to pretend did not matter. "You killed the Magistrate's son? How?" "I cut his throat. That is the prescribed form of execution for a traitor in the field. Had he been taken to Abbadon, he would have been beheaded after being tortured for a prolonged length of time. Cutting his throat was the easier death, believe me." She felt slightly ill. "How can you expect the father of a man you murdered to Join us this day?" "He has no choice. He knew his son was involved with the insurrectionists. By law, I should have executed him, as

well. His son's wife was carrying information to the rebels and she, too, should have been dispatched. Lord Gehenna hoped that, by setting an example with the son, the father and daughter-in-law would cease their activities, but they haven't. This village is a hotbed of rebel activity. If for no other reason than being thankful I don't put every man to the sword and every woman into the convent, every child in the orphanage and burn every building to the ground, the Magistrate should be honored to perform the Joining!" Aradia looked away from his handsome face, which had turned hard and challenging. She needed his help to free Orithia and could not afford to alienate him. Her words had come close to doing just that. "Forgive me, Milord. I was raised to protect my fellow sisters ,and the plight of the innkeeper's granddaughter touched me. This is not my land, and these are not my people. It is not my place to question what you did or the reason behind why you did it." "No, it isn't." Thunder shook the building. The Shadowlord sighed, his exasperation evident. "The Prophet seems determined to set a rain cloud always over us." "It seems so." He shook his head. "Your bath will have to wait. Get dressed. I'm not a superstitious man, but I would just as soon not be Joined during a deluge." He cast her a quick look. "That wouldn't bode well for the marriage, would it?" "Marriage is what you make it, warrior." A moment later, a tap on the door broke the silence. When Aradia opened the portal, she saw Naseema scurrying down the hallway. The girl had placed Aradia's saddlebag on the floor. Aradia opened the bag and withdrew a pair of men's breeches and a shirt. Looking at Jaelan, she arched a brow until he got the hint and turned around. Jaelan moved to the window and pushed aside the curtain, all too aware of the lady's movements as she dressed behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her chemise tossed onto a chair. The thought of her chest, bare beneath the white cambric shirt, brought an instant reaction. "The breeches are damp," she said, her tone suggesting she had trouble getting into the cords. "Once we reach Abbadon, I'll buy you all the gowns you could ever want." "Don't want them." He looked around. The sight of her buttoning the pearl studs over her shapely hips elicited another reaction in the lower part of his body. He forced himself not to stare at the juncture of her long legs. "Why not?" "I don't wear gowns, warrior." The enticing picture she made--hands on hips, legs slightly spread--made the blood pump faster through his veins and did other remarkable and enjoyable things to his body. Her white cambric shirt did nothing to hide the amble thrust of her breasts, and tucked into the waistband of the cords, accentuated her small waist. "Do you see my boots?" she asked. He bent to retrieve them. "Sit on the chair and I'll put them on for you." A trill of pleasure rippled through Aradia. She did as ordered. Her heart thudded in her chest as he knelt and held the boot for her. Thrusting her toes into the wet leather, she grimaced and had to arch her ankle several times to get her foot in all the way. "My friend, 'Lui, has a brother who makes exquisite boots of the finest Diabolusian leather. I'll see Diego comes to measure you for a few new pair." When he picked up her other boot and held it for her, something caught his eye. He took her left foot in his hand, the arch cupped in his palm. Aradia held her breath, a shiver of delight at his touch making the hairs on her arms stand up.

He set down the boot and used his free hand to push up her pant leg. For a long moment, he stared at her ankle, then slowly raised his eyes to hers. "It's a tattoo," she said. "I know what it is." His thumb moved over the marking, the tip tracing the vermeil head of the nocked quarrel on the crossbow. He slid his thumb to the three small quarrels slanted on end beneath the crossbow. "What do these mean?" "Each quarrel signifies an amount." At his steady look, she lifted her head. "One quarrel equals one dozen." "So, three dozen in all," he said in a flat voice. "That is how many men you have killed." She nodded. "Those I can account for, aye. And more I wounded on the battlefield likely died later also." "You killed at least thirty-six men in battle?" "I would kill in no other way, warrior, unless my life or the life of a loved one was threatened." "But how?" he asked, his voice showing his shock. "How did I kill them?" She shrugged. "With dagger and sword, mostly, but I have wielded the labrys on occasion. It makes such a mess, thought, so I dislike using it." His eyes flared. "You fight in hand-to-hand combat?" "I must. I'm not that good with a crossbow or spear. My eyesight does not allow accurate aim. Amazeen has been at war for centuries to protect its homeland, so one must be an expert at her job during a battle. We cannot afford to lose. Our way of life depends on our abilities to wage war and overcome everything thrown at us." Another clap of thunder startled Jaelan. He jumped, wondering which had unnerved him more-- the sudden noise, or the woman's telling remarks about her fighting prowess. Picturing her standing on a killing field, splattered with the blood of her victims, one hand gripping a broadsword, the other a dagger, surrounded by dead men at her feet, carrion perched and waiting, sent chills through his spine. Aradia grinned, cocking her head. "What's the matter, warrior? Afraid of me now?" He snorted, shaking his head at her ridiculous question. "We'll discuss this later." Jaelan opened the door for her, surprised that he allowed her to precede him. He was not given to courtly gestures, but in the presence of this woman, he felt the need to put forth his best manners. Following her down the corridor, he could not help but admire the way her hips moved in the tight confines of the damp cords. Perhaps instead of a few new gowns, he'd have leather breeches made for her instead. The thought made him smile.

Chapter 7 Magistrate Zaitan Kahteranani stood before his desk, clutching the scepter of his station in front of him like a barrier between him and the tall man. His cold black eyes warmed only a fraction as he swept his gaze over the beautiful woman at the Shadowlord's side. Nodding as polite a greeting to the lady for whom he felt great pity, he tried to dismiss her gentle smile from his thoughts, but he knew her face would stay with him for a long time. He wished to snatch her from the Evil One's grip, to spirit her away from a life that would be spent...

"Get on with it, Kahteranani," the Shadowlord demanded, having read the Magistrate's thoughts. "As you wish, Lord Jaelan. Is there a Joining gift?" "She is wearing my gift to her," Jaelan snapped. Aradia looked at the Shadowlord, then touch the amber necklace. The Magistrate reminded Jaelan that two witnesses were needed to make the Joining legal in the eyes of the Hasdu. "Fine." Jaelan went to the door, bellowing for Naseema and her grandfather. Within moments, the two witnesses came into the room, though both seemed loath to be there. Enmity reverberated in the Magistrate's voice as he began the ritual that would Join the Shadowlord and his captive. Zaitan could think of her in no other way. No woman would willingly share the bed of one such as Ben-Ashaman. He also knew the Shadowlord was reading his thoughts. It did not matter. Let the Evil One know how despised he was. Let him feel the hatred festering in the hearts and minds of the Uadjit people. Perhaps that hatred would keep him away. "It's more likely to bring me here more often," Jaelan grated. "Perhaps I should build a keep within the shadows of your own abode, Kahteranani. We could visit often. How does that sound?" "I would rather you slit my throat and feed me to the fire than have to spend one moment more than necessary in your presence," the Magistrate sneered. "That can be arranged." "Please," Aradia said, taking Jaelan's arm. "This is my Joining day. Do not spoil it for me." She looked at the Magistrate. "Either of you." "Milady, please reconsider," the Magistrate pleaded. "You do not know what it is you do! Even the heavens cry out for you to think before you commit yourself to this"--he nearly choked on the word--"Man. The entire Host is crying for you!" Rain lashed at the windows. The day had turned dark. Fierce wind skirled in the eaves and caused the shutters to crash against the building. The storm Jaelan had feared hammered with relentless fury. "Speak your words, Magistrate Kahteranani," she bid. "I have pledged myself to Lord Jaelan and my decision was not forced, nor was it made lightly. He has not dragged me before you. It is something I wish as much as he." Jaelan stared at her, wondering if her words were just for the Magistrate--to ease his mind and diffuse a dangerous situation--or if a deeper meaning existed. Though he had not dragged her before Kahteranani, neither had he given her a choice if she were to see her sister out of the king's seraglio and safely home. "I can not persuade you to think better of your decision?" the Magistrate asked. "It is what I want," she repeated, her gaze locked with Jaelan's. "The Prophet help you," the Magistrate mumbled. "We are gathered here in the sight of..." Jaelan looked away from Aradia, half-listening to Kahteranani's droning words. He gave the appropriate responses, held his breath as the lady at his side made hers, and heaved a sigh of relief when they were declared husband and wife. His heart occupied his throat when the Magistrate reluctantly bid him to seal the Joining with a kiss. So he would not be forced to watch the woman being mauled by the Shadowlord, Zaitan went to his desk, opened a drawer, and removed the Certificate of Joining, which the Shadowlord had already signed. He glanced at his right index finger and the golden signet ring that bore the Seal, tilted a red candle, dripped wax on the bottom of the sheet, then pressed the Seal of Office into the middle. The wax's blood-red color made gorge rise in his throat. He left the paper on his desk, then he left the room, his eyes burning with disgust. The touch of Jaelan's lips upon Aradia's was as chaste as any kiss ever given. It was a brief contact devoid of emotion, though she was sure she had witnessed a brief flare of passion darkening his amber gaze to molten gold as the kiss ended. A possessiveness now lurked in those tawny depths.

"We will have to spend the night here," her new husband said. "The roads will be even worse after this rain." "Are you sure?" she asked, not wanting to infringe on the people of Uadjit any longer than need be. Their palpable hatred made her uneasy, and she feared someone would act on that pent-up anger. "I'm not adverse to traveling." Even as the words left her mouth, a vicious shriek of lightning split the air. Somewhere nearby, a tree crashed, no doubt a victim of the lightning's blade. "I've no desire to have you skewered, wench. We'll stay here." "But..." "We will stay." Aradia clamped her mouth shut. She sighed in surrender, but worry nagged her, while every sound gave her the jitters. "I'll have Jahna prepare a room for us," he said, going to the door. "Jahna?" "The innkeeper." She frowned. "You are so familiar with these people that you call them by their given names. Why is that, warrior?" He opened the door and paused on the threshold. "There is no mystery to it...I grew up here." He didn't give her a chance to respond but closed the door firmly behind him. In stunned surprise, Aradia slumped into the chair beside the desk. She looked at the floor, caught up in the moment. Jaelan's admission put a fine edge to her worry, intensified it. She knew how vindictive people could be when angry. She had experienced it when returning from Diabolusia. To this day, some Amazeen would not speak to her, shunned her, did everything they could to make her life miserable. There had been death threats in the beginning, but her mother's intervention had quelled them. Growing worry propelled Aradia from her chair, and she began pacing. They would need to be on guard, ever mindful of a sly look or a creaking floorboard. When they took to their bed this eve, she would make doubly sure they securely engaged the lock, pushed a chair under the handle. She made a mental note to check the window as well. Her attention fell on a bowl of fruit, sitting on a table at the window. She tucked her lower lip between her teeth, wondering if their food would be contaminated, or poisoned. She would need to taste her husband's food before allowing him to eat. She must not allow anyone to harm Jaelan. She would protect him with every skill at her disposal. Standing outside the Magistrate's office, Jaelan intercepted his new wife's thoughts. He had no illusions as to why she would risk her life to keep him safe. Without him, she would have no way to extract her sister from the harem. She needed him to get her into the stronghold. It pleased him, however, to think of her doing battle in his name. Your name is now her name, too,his inner voice reminded him. "Aradia Ben-Ashaman," he said aloud. The sound of it made him smile. The smile slid from his lips, however, as her next thought wove its way into his subconscious. Aradia was thinking of the dagger she had secreted in her saddlebags, picturing it in her mind. Wrapped in oilcloth, the blade was wickedly sharp, honed to a lethal edge that could cleave a single hair in twain. As thin as a sheet of parchment, the Ionarian steel was only an inch in width, seven inches in length from hilt to tip, and a well-balanced killing machine. Driven into a man's chest at the midpoint, dragged upward and to the left through the chest cavity, it could slice apart muscle and sinew, cartilage and bone, to open a human heart in the blink of an eye. Should the need arise, she would act, killing if need be but aiming to maim. Whistling between his teeth, Jaelan could not dismiss the images his wife's thoughts painted. Committed to her course of action, a warrioress in her own right, the woman could not be left to her own devices. The Prophet only knew what she was capable of doing, and one false move could get her seriously hurt.

Or killed. Searching out Jahna would have to wait. Disposing of the killing blade in Aradia's possession became the first order of business. **** When Aradia returned to her room at the inn, fresh, hot bath water steamed in the copper tub. She stepped into the water, sighing with pleasure as the warmth lapped at her flesh, settling like a lover's caress over her lower body. The perfumed waves sent a mist of gardenia-scented steam into the air. Gardenia was her favorite flower, and she wondered if Jaelan had harvested that information from her memory. A slight frown marred her brow when she realized he most likely did. How many of her stray thoughts had wound their way into his knowing? She reminded herself to be more careful. "Do wish anything else, Milady?" an older woman, likely the innkeeper's wife, asked. Aradia had almost forgotten the woman's presence, so non-obtrusive had she been about her work. She looked up and felt mild surprise that the woman's bearing seemed as that of a host making welcome a guest in her home. "Information, if you could provide it," Aradia replied. The woman inclined her head in regal fashion. She stood with her hands clasped at her waist and met Aradia's gaze with a steady one. "What is it you wish to know?" "Tell me about Lord Jaelan." A look of disgust passed over the woman's face. When she spoke, her upper lip arched as though a bad smell had entered the room. "That one is Hell's spawn!" "He was born here." The old woman vehemently shook her head. "That demon is an Outlander, his place of birthing known only to the Prophet! For all we know, he may well have been born in the slime of the Abyss." "He told me he grew up here." "Ill luck for us that he was. And curse Samiel Ben-Ashaman for bringing the Evil One into our midst. May he rue the day he gifted his lady-wife with that bad seed!" Aradia remembered Jaelan telling her his name was Rysalian, for "orphaned." "So you don't know his kin?" "Demons from the deepest crevice of Hell, if you ask me." The woman's spittle speckled the air in front of her. "Where did Samiel Ben-Ashaman find him?" Aradia asked, losing patience with the hateful woman. Unclenching her hands to throw out a dismissive gesture, the woman hissed her answer like a striking viper. "In a trash heap, a dung hill, who knows? From wherever vile brattlings thrust from unclean heathen bellies come." Gritting her teeth, Aradia began lathering her arms. "You knew he was evil even at birth? You are an astute woman." "Meridia knew him for what he was the moment she laid eyes on him!" "Meridia? That is you?" "I am Sofia, the wife of the Magistrate." Aradia winced. The mother of the executed man. No wonder she bore Jaelan such loathing. "Then who is Meridia?" "Wife of Samiel Ben-Ashaman, my youngest sister." Pausing in mid-scrub, Aradia lifted her head. "Lord Jaelan is your nephew?"

"That scum is no kin to me or mine!" Sofia shouted, her eyes glaring daggers. "Not even the demons of the Abyss would claim such evil!" Before Aradia could say anything else, the door opened behind her. Knowing no one else would dare enter without knocking, Aradia did not need to turn to know her husband had entered. The look of fury on Sofia's red face would have been proof of his presence without the filthy word she muttered under her breath. Jaelan's gaze settled on Sofia. "I have long thought Lord Gehenna had Zaitan snip the wrong tongue that day. Your husband would have known more peace and the village less gossip if the tongs had been plied to you instead of Naseema." "May the Prophet send a hoard of locusts to strip the flesh from your bones, you murderous beast," Sofia flung at him. Leaning casually against the doorjamb, Jaelan crossed his arms. No expression marred his handsome face, but he shot her a steady beam of anger with his eyes. "I am not averse to killing women, should the need arise, Sofia. Best you bear that in mind before you say anything else." Sofia walked toward him, her back ramrod straight. "I am not afraid of you, Lord Jaelan," she said, the title soundly like a curse. "You should be. I still bear the scars you left on my hide when I was a boy, and I would not mind repaying you in kind, old woman." Another vile curse slithered from Sofia's mouth as she started to push him out of her way. Aradia sucked in a harsh breath when the Shadowlord grabbed the woman by the wrists and shoved her against the door. "Keep out of my way while I'm here. Leave my lady alone and make no mistake about it. I would just as soon see you sizzling on your pyre as look at your butt-ugly face." Sofia spit in his face. Aradia shoved out of the tub, unmindful of her nudity. Dripping water, her long hair plastered to her bare back, she rushed to the door just as Jaelan released Sofia's wrists and circled her neck with his hands. "No!" Aradia shouted, trying to pull him off the woman. His forearms felt like steel. Sofia's face turned a deeply infused red. "Jaelan, don't!" With spittle running down his cheek, Jaelan knew a moment of fury unlike anything he had ever experienced. That she would dare spit on him was bad enough, but that she had done so in the presence of his wife unleashed the pitiless fiend lurking inside him. He was intent on squeezing the life from Sofia Kahteranani, a woman he had feared and hated his entire life. "Please, don't do this!" Aradia begged, dragging on his arm. "She's not worth it! Don't let her win!" Aradia's words fell like iced water over the fire pit that bubbled and steamed within Jaelan's hate-fed mind. The words doused the flames of fury, stilled the churning lava, dissipated the toxic vapors. Her hand on his arm, her touch, drew away the ferocious heat that encased him. He dropped his hands from the woman's neck, staggering away from her. Sofia coughed and gagged, bending over in agony, sucking ragged gulps of air into her depleted lungs. "B...bastard," she croaked, rubbing her throat. "Get out before I strangle you myself!" Aradia said, dragging Sofia to the door. "Evil," Sofia whispered. "Evil as the day is long!" "You haven't seen evil yet." Aradia jerked open the door and shoved the woman into the hall. "Stay away from him!" Sofia straightened, and her wrinkled lips peeled back from yellowed, crooked teeth. She hissed like a cornered viper before turning and stumbling down the corridor. Aradia slammed the door as hard as she could. Her breath coming fast and shallow, she turned to her husband. She found him leaning against the wall, eyes closed, his head thrown back, a vein throbbing dangerously in the exposed column of his throat.

"Let it go, warrior," she said. Jaelan opened his eyes and lowered his head. His face was stone-cold hard, his gaze filled with an emotion Aradia could not read. When she started toward him, he put up a hand to stay her. Silently, he shook his head and pushed away from the wall. Before she could stop him, he opened the door and thundered out, his heavy footsteps echoing back to her. Remembering her nakedness, Aradia reached for a towel. After dragging the soft cotton around her, she tucked the end between her breasts and shut the door. A crack of lightning spooked her. She jumped, stumbling into the bedside table to rattle a pitcher of water. "I hate bad weather," she said aloud. "I hate all this rain!" As though the weather gods had heard her, rain lashed the windows with such force, Aradia thought the glass would break. She started to latch the inside shutters over the window when something caught her eye. After wiping fog from the glass, she saw Jaelan standing in the center of the courtyard, the deluge buffeting him. "What are you doing?" she whispered. Even as the words left her, lightning flared viciously, illuminating her husband in a harsh white glare. Terrified he would be hit, she rapped on the window, trying to gain his attention. He seemed not to notice. She rapped again, rapidly and with more force, but either he couldn't hear her or simply chose to ignore the summons. The latter proved true, she realized, when he turned his head, looked at her, then walked toward a tall banyan tree at the far corner of the courtyard. "For the love of Alluvia!" she said exasperated. He sat beneath the tree, drew up his legs and encircled them with his arms, before lowering his head to his knees. Aradia again cleared the fog from the window. A savage curse issued from her mouth as she turned to dress. A few minutes later, Aradia entered the common room and saw Jahna Kahteranani watching the Shadowlord. When she headed for the door, his soft voice stopped her. "He will not appreciate you intruding, Milady." "You expect me to leave him out in that tempest?" He shrugged. "He is where he wants to be, Milady. This is not uncommon for him." "It's dangerous!" "Aye, and he knows it. Perhaps the danger he courts makes him feel more alive." He shrugged again. "Who knows with those of his kind?" "Hiskind ," Aradia repeated, the words bitter. "What exactly is his kind, Grandfather?" "He is not like you or I, Milady. We knew him to be different from the moment he came to our little village. Samiel ruefully regrets the day he brought him here. Often are the times Samiel will sit at the fire pit, deep in his cups, and ask the Prophet for forgiveness for having done so." "Jaelan's father is alive? Does he live nearby?" "In that house," Jahna said, pointing to a buff-colored building to the East of the banyan tree. Glancing at the house, Aradia saw a shadow at the window. "Is that Samiel?" "More than likely." "And he wouldn't think to call his son in out of the rain?" "The Shadowlord isnot his son. He is merely the man who raised him." "What a childhood he must have had with you people." Jahna's lined face bore no expression, but his rheumy eyes grew stern. "Do not condemn the people of Uadjit for

hating him. They have had good reason since he came of age." "What do you mean?" "He was ten and three winters, he was," Jahna muttered. "Thirteen's always been an unlucky number, and for us, it was an omen straight from hell!" "What exactly did a thirteen-year-old do to the people of Uadjit for them to feel as they do, Grandfather?" "He brought the wrath of the Domination down upon this village. A fourth of our men-folk were taken and cast into the dungeons at Abbadon. I have not seen three of my sons since that day, and never expect to see them this side of Paradise! A fourth of our young women were sent to the convent. One of those was my firstborn granddaughter. We were told she died in childbirth, struggling to bear the offspring of a Viragonian soldier who'd raped her!" "I'm sorry for what happened, but how could he have been responsible--" "Had it not been for Jaelan, Uadjit would have never garnered the notice of the Brotherhood." "I don't see what--" "Ask him why death rides at his side and he'll tell you!" The man uncrossed his arms and stalked off, his stooped shoulders leading the way. He did not look back at his guest, leaving her to stand at the window and watch the violent summer storm drench her husband. Aradia tore her gaze from Jaelan and looked at the house where he had grown up. Though she couldn't make out the figure at the window, she had the feeling Samiel Ben-Ashaman had turned his attention to her. She felt a hatred directed her way and lifted her chin. A stranger's view of her carried no more weight than a single drop of the rain pounding the inn. Switching her attention to Jaelan, she wondered if she should go to him. At that moment, Jaelan looked straight at her. He shook his head. She understood his silent command to be left alone, and obeyed, going back to her room. **** Jaelan caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He swiveled his gaze to the back door of his adopted father's house. There, framed in the doorway, stood the man, huddled in the warmth of an ancient wool shawl. "What is her name?" Samiel called. "Aradia," Jaelan answered. "Oceanian?" "Amazeen." Samiel's low whistle gave evidence of his surprise. With a shrug, he moved back into the house and shut the door. Dragging in a long, tired breath, Jaelan closed his eyes and let the rain wash over him. He shivered occasionally, but the feel of the water, the cleansing of it, was something he sorely needed. As much as he longed to be in the warm confines of the inn, in the presence of his new wife, he remained on the ground, the storm winds buffeting him. **** Aradia heard the door open. She opened her eyes and, in the darkness, stared at the opposite wall. Although the storm still raged, her husband had finally returned to her. She smelled the damp clothing and listened as he stripped, being careful to lay aside the items so as to make as little noise as possible. He was being considerate, protective of her slumber, she thought, but at the same time, not wanting her to intrude on his mood. When the bed dipped, Aradia knew a moment of tension. It had been years since she'd shared a bed with a man and all that it implied. "Go back to sleep, wench," he whispered, pulling the covers over himself. "Are you all right?" He turned to his side. "Aye...go to sleep."

Her thoughts jumped to the villagers, her worry of them harming Jaelan. She started to get up to secure the door latch, but he stopped her. "They're locked safely in their own worlds, wench. They'll not dare to intrude into mine." "Are you sure?" "As sure as the sun will rise tomorrow." "But what if--" "Go to sleep, Aradia," he said firmly, flouncing the covers. "We are in no danger here." She waited until he grew still again. "If you want to talk, I'll be happy to listen." He remained silent for so long, she first thought he purposely ignored her. But at last he sighed. "Tomorrow...tomorrow, we'll talk..." A part of her wanted to slip her arms around him. For the first time in many years, she felt a mothering instinct, but forced herself not to act on it. Something told her he would not appreciate her coddling him, so she remained still. After a while, she closed her eyes and slept, though threatening images that chased her from one place to another across the desert filled her dreams. **** In his dream, Jaelan meandered through a garden laden with summer flowers, the early morning sun sparkling on the knee-high stalks. Fleecy white clouds peppered the heavens, and the soft scent of gardenia mixed with the musky odor of fertile soil. Overhead, sparrows soared on the thermals, while crickets rubbed their hind legs together in search of a mate. Aradia strolled ahead of him, her gown of gossamer silk billowing in the breeze. In her hand she twirled a scarlet rose, which she occasionally brought to her face to inhale its sweet perfume. Often, she looked over her shoulder, making sure he followed, and her smile of promise turned his manhood to stone. In the distance, the rumble of waves against an unseen shore beckoned. They moved toward this sound as the aroma of the sea washed over them on the gentle wind. "There is a grotto," she said. "It's beyond the sea gate." A wrought iron gate barred their path. Beside it, a rose bush filled with hundreds of buds sent up an intoxicating smell. Aradia pluck a rose as Jaelan pushed open the tall gate. Steep stairs led down to a secluded beach, and they walked hand in hand, her leading him. Gulls joined the sparrows in sailing across the firmament. Their raucous cries seemed merry as they swooped low over incoming waves. The dream shifted, and he and Aradia were sitting beside an underground lake, staring in amazement at the stalactites and stalagmites that rimmed the milky-green water. The movement of waves lapping at the lake's edge calmed and soothed the nerves. She brought his hand to her breast, pressing his palm to her flesh, suddenly bare of fabric and restraint. "Feel my heart beating for you, warrior," she said and circled her nipple with his fingertips. His clothes magically disappeared, and he was stretched out atop her, his lower body nestled in the spread V of her silken thighs. Moving his hands at will over her creamy flesh, he felt the powerful stirrings of passion grip him. "Make me yours, beloved." She brought up her legs to capture his hips and anchor him to her. The tip of his fleshy sword entered the sheath of her heat. He sighed, giving in to the undeniable urge to claim her as his. He thrust slowly into her warmth, driving to the hilt of his weapon. Her moan of pleasure swelled his heart with pride. He rode her like a man possessed, taking her hard and deep, and branding her flesh for all time. His seed shot into her waiting core, and his name on her lips as release found her brought an answering howl from his straining throat.

Satiated, truly fulfilled for the first time in his life, he rolled onto his back, pulling her with him, settling her body full-length against his. He held her in his arms and darkness came to the grotto. When he awoke, he was shocked to feel the stickiness of his night emission clinging wetly to his thigh and puddling beneath his rump. The ripe stench of spent semen made him frown. He threw back the covers and left the bed. Going into the bathing chamber, he relieved himself, then washed the telltale wetness from his flesh. Upon returning to bed, he stretched out under the covers as gently as possible to keep from waking his new bride. He could not remember ever having what the soldiers vulgarly called a Wet Mare. He wasn't sure if he should be angry or ashamed that he could not control himself. Rarely did he feel the need to take matters into his own hands to relieve the physical urges that sometimes plagued him. Saahira's none-too gentle ministrations when she visited his quarters did nothing more than eliminate his pent-up fluids, and he had never taken pleasure in her grudging hands. Turning his head, he stared at his sleeping bride and wondered what it would be like to hold her as he had in the dream. He longed to know the feel of her naked flesh, ached to enter her and experience the pleasure of her. Watching her sleep, he saw the vulnerable side of her, the defenselessness of her position, and felt so protective, so grateful she was his, he spent the next few hours studying every square inch of her face. When sleep finally claimed him, there was not a mole or a freckle, a tiny blemish or vein he did not know by heart.

Chapter 8 Aradia rose well before dawn, quietly leaving her marriage bed and the man whose light snores made her smile. She padded barefoot to the inn's kitchen and, to her surprise, found no one there. In most establishments, the proprietor and his workers would be laboring away, preparing a meal for their guests. Such was not the case here, and Aradia felt she knew the reason--she and her husband were not welcome. Gritting her teeth to the insult, she searched for coffee. When she found it, she began to brew a pot, her anger lending speed and complete dedication to the task. Rummaging about the bins, she discovered bread and cheese, then added fig preserves, a couple of oranges, and a few pomegranates to her hoard. When the coffee finished perking, she placed everything on a tray and returned to her room. Just as she neared the door, it swung inward. Jaelan stood there shirtless, barefoot, with his leather breeches unbuttoned at the waist. "It's still raining," she said as she passed him, "although lightly." "You'll get used to it," he said, swiping an orange from the tray. "No one else is up." "Oh, they're up. They have been for hours." She placed the tray on the table by the bed. "Then where are they?" "Most likely with Samiel." He peeled the orange, sat on the bed, and crooked one knee on the mattress. "If you noticed, you were the only one who ate last eve." Aradia's eyes narrowed. "They did not feed you?" "They never do. I don't come here often, but when I do, they make sure not a crumb passes from their hands to my belly. If I want it, I fix it myself or I go hungry." Hands on her hips, muscle working in her jaw, she turned to him. "Are you hungry now?" Jaelan held up the orange. "Starving," he replied, then plopped a section of fruit into his mouth.

"Then by the goddess, you'll be fed!" She stalked out the door. Chewing another orange section, Jaelan melded his mind with hers and read her angry thoughts. He tracked her through the inn to the kitchen and winced at the uncharitable feelings running rampant in her mind. She made a racket, throwing around pots and pans, and generally destroyed Jahna's kitchen as she set about preparing a meal she thought would satisfy his hunger. His stomach growled at the thought of being fed, and he leaned back on his elbow, slipping the last of the orange into his mouth. Crossing his bare ankles, he contented himself to wait for the meal he knew would be the best he'd ever had. Provided Aradia knew how to cook! **** Samiel let the curtain close. "She's in your kitchen." "I figured as much," Jahna grumbled. "I'll not clean up after her," Sofia said. "And neither will Naseema!" Jahna rolled his eyes. "It is not the lady who is our enemy." "It is not her I mind feeding!" Sofia's hands curled into fists. "Though she threatened me." "If he were your husband, you'd have done the same," Samiel remarked. Sofia threw him a look of disgust and went back to her knitting. Naseema was sitting beside her mother-in-law on the settee. "She is nice for an Amazeen," Jahna commented. "I would not like to make an enemy of her if I could help it." "She should be pitied," Sofia decreed. "I can not imagine any woman surviving being Joined to that son of a jackal." "I warned her not to Join with him," Zaitan, the Magistrate, put in. "He has no doubt put a spell on her, for she would not listen to reason." "The boy has no such powers," Samiel said. "Who really knows what evil thatboy is capable of?" Sofia demanded. Naseema moved to the window. She pushed aside the curtain and looked across the courtyard, seeking out the young woman who had married the village's hated son. Upon observing smoke wafting through the chimney, she turned to those assembled and made the sign for fire. Jahna hitched his shoulders. "Let us hope she knows what she's about, else she may burn the place down around their ears." "Heshould be burned," Sofia said. "I would give much to see him chained to the stake and the faggots lit beneath him." Samiel frowned. He hated Sofia's savage words, but he could say nothing to his dead wife's sister that would make her see reason. She had always viewed Jaelan as an interloper; an unwanted blight on the family, and her hatred of him had only grown in leaps and bounds through the years. And the death of her only son at Jaelan's hands had driven her to the brink of madness. "Be careful what you say, woman," Zaitan cautioned. "He hears every word we think." "Let him," Sofia snapped. "He knows I hate the ground he walks on. I would like nothing better than to see him in pain!" "I believe he would like nothing better than to see you in pain," Zaitan commented. "Before any harm is done, someone should ask them to leave," Samiel said. He looked expectantly around the room. When no one met his gaze, he let out a long breath of air. "I suppose that someone must be me."

"You are hisfather , are you not?" Sofia threw at him. "You'll not let me forget my mistake, will you?" Samiel shouted, having reached his limit. "When you forget your mistakes, you're doomed to repeat them," Zaitan said. "Our village might not survive another such tragedy." **** Aradia placed a tray of food on a table near the window where her husband stood staring across the courtyard. He had consumed all but the bread and fig preserves she had earlier provided. She sighed. "You'd better eat every morsel of this, warrior." Jaelan glanced at the meal. "Youdo know how to cook." He took up the platter laden with salted fish, fried bread, and crisp sweet potato wedges. "Of course, I know how to cook," she snapped, offended. "Anything other than things you soak in grease?" he asked, sniffing a potato wedge. Deciding it smelled all right, he popped it into his mouth and grinned. "That's good." Aradia grunted and tore off a chunk of the bread she'd brought in earlier. She spread fig preserves over the light brown surface. "I'm curious..." "About what?" "Things," she said, then poured him a cup of black coffee. "What is it you wish to know?" "How did you come to be in this evil place?" "Samiel bought me as a present to his wife," Jaelan explained as he ate the fish and fried bread. "They had been trying to have children for many years, and she was near to the age when she would no longer be able to bear one." Aradia poured herself a cup of the aromatic brew. "So he brought you." "He thought he was doing something that would please her. Despite the wickedness in that woman's soul, she loved her husband and wanted to please him. She told him how thankful she was to be given a child to raise." "That was a lie?" "Meridia did not want a castoff brattling from another woman's womb. She wanted a child of her own. She hated me on sight, but did not let Samiel know." "He didn't sense it?" "Samiel was a caravan leader, like his father before him and his father before him. They had been granted the route between Abbadon and Dahrenia from a charter given to their family from King Ranus' time. It was a profitable route and much envied among the Hasdu, whose businesses required them to travel about Rysalia. To safeguard his route and keep the charter intact, Samiel led the caravans himself. He was gone much of the time. When he was home, things were almost normal. Meridia treated me as she did Sofia's son, Rami. But once Samiel left, I was...at her mercy..." "She abused you." Jaelan picked at the bread in his hand. "There isn't a place on my body she did not beat when I was a child." Aradia sat back in her chair. "And no one stopped her?" "Why should they? I was not a native son, but an outcast from the Prophet-only-knows-where, the product of two unknowns who obviously didn't want me. I was nothing to the people of this village...disposable. What did it matter what Meridia and her sister did to me?"

"Did you tell your father what was happening?" Jaelan looked away. "If I had, things would've only gotten worse." "Did you ever consider running away?" "Where would I have gone?" Aradia shrugged. "Amazeen women are trained from childhood to look after themselves. Even in the middle of an ice field, there are ways to survive. The Sisters of Fate plan our lives from birth and They--" "The Rysalian Goddess of Fate had plans for me, too, wench." "What do you mean?" "Females don't like me, or haven't you noticed? Even the goddess Mammetu. She spun her web to keep me here until the Prophet decided mysimtum ." "What is that?" "My fate." "Which was?" "As a Shadowlord," he said through clenched teeth. "By the time I was six, I knew I was different from the other children. Much to my surprise I could read Meridia's mind, hear what she was thinking, and knew when to avoid her. I took to staying away from home, fending for myself as best I could. Most of the time, they were glad to be rid of me. When Samiel came back, I would, too, and when he left again, I left. I stole food where I could find it. I learned to fish at Lake Ashwi. There was an old goat herder's hut near the lake, and I made that my home, stealing blankets and taking castoff clothing from garbage heaps." Aradia winced at the thought of a lonely boy being forced to wear filthy clothing thrown away by people who should have been caring for him. "It wasn't as bad as it sounds," Jaelan said, intercepting her thoughts. "I rather enjoyed it, because no one came after me with a belt or a switch. And no one called me bastard to my face or told me I was a demon from the Abyss." "You must have thought you were evil when you read her mind." "I have never thought of my ability as being evil. I think of it as a gift the Prophet gave me to help me stay alive." "But others think it evil." "That they do." "How old were you when people began to know you could read their thoughts?" Jaelan dredged the last piece of fried bread through the pebbly fish gravy on his plate. "Nine." Aradia took a sip of coffee. "How did the village react?" He pushed away his plate, his appetite gone. "You need to know what transpired before that day in order to understand." He took a deep breath, then continued. "It was high summer, and the heat was so intense no one dared venture outside. Meridia ordered me to make sure the geese had water. I did as she demanded, and when I came back to tell her the birds were all right, she attacked me like a wild beast. I didn't even know what I'd done to anger her. The next thing I knew, I was lying on a pallet, barely able to move and in so much pain, I thought I was dying. Not knowing where I was frightened me so badly I couldn't speak." "And where were you?" "In a tent somewhere on the caravan route with Samiel. He told me Meridia was dead and I would be traveling with him from then on." "How did she die?"

Jaelan drained his cup of coffee and held it out for her to refill. "He said it was a massive stroke. She died beating me." "Sweet Merciful Alluvia," Aradia whispered. "Why?" "I had tracked mud into the house. I suppose she thought I did it on purpose." Aradia let out a long sigh. "Did things get better for you?" He shrugged. "For a while, but that was before the King's agent came to ask Samiel to lead a caravan of nobles on a tiger hunt in Fazdia." "Which king was this?" "King Kharis, the father of our present king." A shudder of distaste rippled through Aradia. "I've heard he was an evil man." Jaelan smiled, but the emotion remained clear of his tawny eyes. "Not nearly as evil as his son, Hasani." "The thought of my sister with that one makes my skin crawl," Aradia said through clenched teeth. Jaelan leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "His wickedness aside, he loves females. He'll treat her well enough, for she's beautiful. Once he's broken her maidenhead, more than likely he'll forget about her." "From your lips to Alluvia's ears." Aradia glanced at him. "You think Orithia is beautiful?" He nodded. "Not as beautiful as you, but I wouldn't turn her way if she came to my bed." Aradia grinned. "I bet you wouldn't." At Jaelan's snort, she shook her head and returned to the former topic. "So what happened when Samiel led the caravan to Fazdia? Isn't that near Dahrenia?" "Aye, it's about ten miles from the Nilus River." He stared at the table, his expression inscrutable, but a muscle worked in his lean jaw. "Was it that bad?" "It was the day I met Lord Gehenna and his brother, Arch-Deacon Jahannum Dahur of the Brotherhood of the Domination." "From the way you say their names, they're not men whose acquaintance I'd enjoy making." "You wouldn't." "Did you run afoul of them?" Jaelan's eyes narrowed in memory. "I made enemies of both that day." "At nine?" she asked, her eyebrows elevated. "What did you do?" He scratched at a faint scar on his right cheek. "Before that, I could read Meridia's mind. But I realized that day I could read the minds of others, too. I'd never tried it with Samiel, but then again, I'd had no reason. Despite his gruffness, he treated me well enough. Sofia was a different matter, and I had tried with her on occasion, but she tended to be scatterbrained and never kept one thought in her mind for long. Since none of the other children in Uadjit would have anything to do with me, I was pretty much alone with just Meridia's thoughts to catch. But that day in Fazdia, things changed. When the knowledge settled in that I could delve into the minds of those around me, childlike, I tried it out on everyone with whom I came into contact." A deep scowl passed over his face. "I made the mistake of reading the wrong mind that day." "The king's?" "One of Gehenna's henchmen from the Tribunal." After running both hands through the thick hair at his temples, he laced his fingers behind his neck and lowered his head. "I've often cursed myself for reading the man's thoughts that day...one of the worst mistakes I'd ever made."

"What was he thinking?" "Who to blame for the king's death that evening." Aradia blinked. "He was planning an assassination?" "The Brotherhood was, and the murder of not only King Kharis, but the young prince Hasani, as well. Since Kharis had no other sons, Arch-Deacon Jahannum would have installed the king's cousin, Imhonen, a young man with limited mental ability. Imhonen would have been the perfect puppet, doing whatever the Brotherhood wished." "A terrible thought." "Aye, but not far off the mark even now with Hasani. He's a weak monarch, easily led, and fearful of the power of the Domination." "I take it you told your father about the planned assassination." "Samiel was not in camp. He'd gone to Sigil for extra supplies--King Kharis was a man of extraordinary appetite." "I heard he was the size of a barge," Aradia quipped. Jaelan chuckled. "A small barge, but aye, he was grossly overweight." "So whom did you tell?" The smile left Jaelan's face. "A minor guard by the name of Sekhem Neter." "Another man you don't like." "I despise the son-of-a-bitch, and one day I'll slit his treacherous throat." "He didn't believe you?" "He said he didn't, but he reported it to his sergeant to cover his ass, just in case." "Did the sergeant seek you out?" "No. He went to his lieutenant, who passed the information up the line until it reached the ear of the Chief Guard." Jaelan snorted. "Another hour and it would have been too late." "Since King Kharis lived to a ripe old age and his son now sits the throne, word must have reached the right ear." Jaelan sputtered, then began laughing so hard, tears came to his eyes. He swiped them away. "What did I say that was so funny?" she demanded, her face hot. He held up a hand until his laughter passed, then gave her a wicked look. "His name was Tarsis, a tough old bastard. He had only one ear--his right one--the other having been removed as a punishment when he was a young man. His face is a road map of vicious scars from that time, as well." "Oh," she said, seeing the unintentional humor. "He must have been something to look at. Were you afraid of him?" "While he was as ugly as a Diabolusian warthog and as foul-tempered as a cornered cobra, he nevertheless seemed to like children, even though few of them would venture near him." "Because of the way he looked." Jaelan nodded. "He hasn't gotten any better looking over the years, either," he said, and a warm tone entered his voice. "He became a friend?" "A mentor. But, aye, I consider him a friend. He's retired now, but he stayed at Abbadon, so I see him almost every

day." "When he was told about the plot, he sought you out?" "And demanded I tell him what I'd heard." "Wait," she interrupted. "Is reading people's mind so common in Rysalia that he didn't question that ability in a nine-year-old?" Jaelan shifted in his seat. "I didn't tell Sekhem Neter I had read the man's mind. I didn't think he'd believe me. I told him I'd overheard the plotting. Anyway, Tarsis listened to me, then put his hand on my shoulder and took me with him to the king's tent. He said he wanted me to repeat what I'd heard to the king and the young prince." "Were you scared?" "Terrified...but not of King Kharis." "Of whom?" "The Arch-deacon and Lord Gehenna were with the king. Samiel had told me to stay clear of them, not to garner their notice, because they were as evil as the demons of the Abyss. When I repeated what I had overhead, it was Lord Gehenna who accused me of lying. He said his man was loyal to the king and would never plot to harm him." "Did the king believe you?" "Not at first, but then something happened that made him believe." Aradia waited for him to continue, watching the faraway look settle in his gaze. Sensing he would go on only when ready, she gave him time without pressing. She offered to pour the last of the coffee into his cup, but he waved her off. "Gehenna stared at me," Jaelan said, his voice hollow. "He had been since the moment Tarsis brought me into the tent." He shifted his shoulders as though an insect had crawled down his spine. "I felt his eyes moving over me like hot, damp fingers, and I could almost smell his foul breath washing over my face. It was like being in the presence of pure evil." Jaelan got up and moved to the window. The rain had finally stopped. "He called me a liar, and his brother agreed. They said I was a beggar child looking to worm his way into the King's household by pretending to have heard a ridiculous plot. They urged the king to have me whipped for daring to bring a fanciful tale before the assembly. The king agreed and motioned Tarsis to take me away." "Ungrateful bastard!" He shrugged. "I might have been only nine, but I had the makings of a Shadowlord in my veins even then, and I was offended he'd called me a liar. I pulled away from Tarsis and shouted that I didn't lie, that I'd read the man's mind. I said if something were not done, the king would die. If not that day, then the next." Leaning his forehead against the cool windowpane, Jaelan stared out at the dark day. "Everyone laughed at me, except Tarsis. The prince even threw a pomegranate at me. Someone else threw a handful of dates, then Gehenna challenged me to read his mind." "And you did..." "Aye, but his thoughts made no sense. I looked at Tarsis and said I didn't understand what the Lord's thoughts meant. I asked him why would the Lord want to hear me scream as he took me. Where did he want to take me that I would scream to keep from going there?" Aradia's face turned crimson. she covered her mouth with her hand. He closed his eyes. "When I spoke the words aloud, you could have heard a pin drop in the sand." "How did Gehenna and his brother react?" "They shot to their feet, sputtering and coughing, their faces turning as red as yours did just now. They accused me of having been bribed by a detractor to create filthy insinuations about them. They asked the king to cut out my tongue for daring to make such accusations. " "What did Kharis do?"

Jaelan's eyelids opened, and he turned to her. "I was a child and didn't know about such things, but the men in the tent did. Many had guessed about Gehenna and his brother, but until that day, no one knew for sure. The king had his own suspicions, though he couldn't have cared less what Gehenna and Jahannum did. As the two railed against me, demanding punishment, the king held up his hand. He waved me forward. Tarsis walked behind me, his hand on my shoulder. He bent down and whispered, 'Tell the truth, boy, and everything will be set to rights.' "I was trembling so violently, my teeth were clicking together, but the king ignored my terror. He grabbed my arm and pulled me between his legs. Anchoring me there, he glared into my face and demanded I read his thoughts. And he warned me that, if I couldn't, he'd have my head on a pike before the next hour had passed." Aradia gripped her cup so hard her knuckles turned white. "Did you read his thoughts?" "King Kharis was an evil man, but he had a brilliant mind. He knew he would need to think of something a child my age could relate to. 'Whisper to me my thoughts, boy, so no one else will hear,' he demanded. When I told him what he was thinking, he just stared at me, the room having gone as quiet as a sarcophagus." "What had been thinking?" Jaelan smiled. "About a favorite hunting dog he'd had as a boy. The animal had a unique name--Belleon. I told him that he used to sneak the dog into his quarters at night so he wouldn't be so afraid of the dark." "What happened?" "No one dared speak, dared ask if my reading had been correct. For a long time I stood there, the king's fingers digging into my shoulders, staring into his hard black eyes. Then he released me, looked at Tarsis, and ordered Gehenna's henchman found and beheaded." "I imagine that did not set well with Gehenna and his brother." "They were too afraid to protest. They knew they had to protect themselves, so they condemned the man, agreeing with the king he should be executed." "Why didn't the king condemn them, too?" "He bid me read their minds, but when I tried, I was unable to do so. They had closed off their thoughts as easily as one would shut a door. Not one image could I pluck from their heads." "King Kharis had to have known what they were about." "He did, but he thought having them in his debt for not condemning them would keep them in line. He meant to have the Brotherhood under his control. Until the day he died, he thought he had won." "And you garnered two lifelong enemies..." "And the king knew I had, for he ordered Tarsis to guard me with his life." "What did your father say when he returned?" Jaelan smiled. "He found me under guard in a tent Tarsis had made off-limits to everyone but the king. They wouldn't let Samiel see me, and no one could tell him what I'd done, since no one other than those in the king's tent that day knew what had transpired. The only other person privy to the secret was Sekhem Neter, and he was one of Jahannum's men." "That figures," Aradia drawled. "By the time Samiel located Tarsis and learned what had happened, King Kharis had decided he preferred the comfort of the palace at Abbadon to the heat of the desert and ordered his entourage to make ready to leave. I was to go with them." "To have your talent exploited." He nodded. "There were Magi from all over the world at the temples in Abbadon." "Priests from the Brotherhood?"

"No, these men were not connected in any way to the Brotherhood. Most were members of the Windwarrior Societies of Serenia or Virago. The king wanted me sent to the Wind Temple to be taught how to read and write, schooling that had been denied me here in Uadjit. Truth told, I was looking forward to it." "Did you get to say goodbye to Samiel?" "No. It would be many years before I saw him again. And by then, I was a full-fledged Death Lord and even more unwelcome in Uadjit." Aradia jumped as the door swung open and a large man with a dark complexion and ferocious scowl barged in. With his mud-splattered clothing and black hair escaping a loose queue at the nape of his neck, he presented a wild appearance. The fierce scowl flicked over Aradia, then leapt to Jaelan. "By the Prophet, Ben-Ashaman, I've been trying to get those prophet-be-damned peasants to tell me where you were, and not a single one would give me the time of day!" The bold intruder swiped a filthy hand over his face, smearing the mud already there. "I'm of a good mind to hang every one of them from that Joshua tree and call it good riddance!" "Be my guest," Jaelan said, folding his arms over his chest. "But leave Samiel to me." Aradia stood, her hand going to her thigh. She glanced down, shocked to find the blade missing. She turned accusatory eyes to her husband. "Did you steal my weapon, warrior?" "I thought it prudent, wench." Her eyes narrowed. "When? How?" Jaelan shrugged. "When you brought in the oranges." Stunned that she had not felt him lift the blade from its scabbard, she ground her teeth. "Don't do it again. My weapon is my weapon and no one touches it save me. Understand?" "Will you promise not to skewer some villager without first gaining my permission?" "I'll not ask permission if your life is in danger. I'll gut first, then ask." "No one is going to make an attempt on my life here, Ardy." "You have more faith in these people than I." The intruder's jaw dropped. "What's going on here, Jael? Who is this woman?" "Who the hell areyou ?" Aradia countered. "And who gave you permission to barge in without knocking?" The man's dark face turned darker. "Woman, how dare you speak to me in that disrespectful tone! I am a Death Lord and..." He took a step forward but Jaelan put himself between them. "She's a bit overprotective," Jaelan quipped. "Of you?" Aradia tried to sidestep her husband, but Jaelan blocked her. "I am possessive of anything that belongs to me!" The sputtered, obviously shocked by her words. "What is she talking about, Jael?" "I'll explain it later," Jaelan answered. "You'll explain it now!" "How dare you give orders to my husband!" Aradia shrieked. She tried to grab the man's arm, but Jaelan shouldered her away. "Husband?" The man's deep bass voice rose two full octaves.

Jaelan winced. "We were Joined." "Legally?" "Legally, and the Joining sealed by the Magistrate. It was what I wanted." "What weboth wanted," Aradia stated, and ignored the surprised look Jaelan slanted her way. The man staggered back, putting up his hands as though to ward off the newfound knowledge. He lowered his head, as if searching the floor for answers, his head wagging back and forth in denial. "This isn't happening. By the Prophet, thiscan't be happening!" "Why the hell not?" Aradia demanded. Jaelan locked eyes with his wife. "Let me handle this with my friend Aluino...please." Aradia blinked, knowing that single polite word was most likely not a part of her husband's usual vocabulary. Taking in his beseeching look, she nodded, giving them a modicum of privacy. "Tell me you were jesting," Aluino pleaded. "Do you remember when we met?" Jaelan inquired. Aluino frowned. "What has that...?" "Do you remember?" Jaelan repeated. "Of course, I do!" "Think back. What do you remember of that day?" "I try not to think of it--" "Aluino," Jaelan coaxed. "All right! It was as hot as hell. So what?" "What were you doing when we met?" "For the love of the Prophet, Ben-Ashaman! What difference does that make now?" "Humor me," Jaelan said. "What were you doing?" Aradia turned, her memory of that day as sharp as it had ever been. Her eyes widened as she stared at the Diabolusian. "I was going to hang your sorry ass!" Aluino snarled. "Sometimes I think I should have." "What stopped you?" Aradia asked. Aluino shot her an infuriated look. "Keep out of this, wench. This has nothing to do with you!" "Answer her, 'Lui," Jaelan insisted. "What stopped you from hanging me?" "It was the prince's whore. That Amazeen bitch who--" Aluino's swarthy complexion went pale. Like the hitching tick of a clock, his stare shifted to Aradia. "You?" She nodded. Aluino exhaled, his wide shoulders dropping. He stumbled to the settee and plopped down, leaning forward to bury his face in his hands. "This cannot be happening." Jaelan hunkered before him, placing a hand on Aluino's knee. "This is what I wanted, 'Lui."

"This is a nightmare..." Jaelan looked at Aradia. "It was 'Lui who helped me get out of Diabolusia. If not for him, I would have died that day." Aradia came to them. "Did not the Chief Guard do the prince's bidding? He was instructed to give you provisions and see you across the border into Serenia. I can not believe his instructions would have been ignored." "They weren't," Jaelan said, "but my enemies had no intention of allowing me to ever leave Diabolusia. A posse was dispatched to find me. If 'Lui had not come to warn me, I would still be making my home in that hellish country." "And six feet beneath its shifting red sands," Aluino commented, looking up through the spread of his fingers. He held Aradia's gaze. "My prince had ordered the man set free and I meant to see his wishes carried out." "It seems Jaelan owes his life to us both," Aradia said. Aluino sat up straight. "I've never given the matter a second thought. I did what had to be done and asked no debt for having done so." 'The hell you haven't thought of it," Jaelan mumbled. "Every time you get pissed at me you remind me you should have hanged me that day." He arched a brow. "Just as you did a few minutes ago." "Reminding you only to annoy you is one thing, Jaelan," Aluino sniffed. "Meaning it is quite another." Aradia smiled. Their banter amused her, and she thought of how often she and Phillipa swapped insults. "You haven't told me how you wound up in Diabolusia in the first place." The men exchanged a quick look. "That's a tale best left for another rainy day," Jaelan said, getting to his feet. Aluino swept a hand over his face. "If you plan on taking her back to Abbadon, I suggest you tell her the whole of it before someone else does." He winced. "Someone like Saahira." Jaelan scowled and folded his arms over his chest. "Aluino may be a Death Lord, but sometimes I think he's afraid of his own shadow." Aluino sighed. "Nay, just the Shadowlord." Jaelan snorted, then changed the subject. "Why were you looking for me?" "I had forgotten." Aluino looked at his friend. "As ifthis situation isn't bad enough, we..." "You consider our Joining a bad situation?" Aradia growled, her smile vanishing in the blink of an eye. "His Joining withany woman without the Tribunal's permission is a bad situation, wench, and he knows it." Aradia looked at her husband. "You needed permission?" He shrugged. "Not necessarily..." "Can they overturn it? Would they?" When he and his friend remained silent, Aradia pressed the issue. "Well?" "That depends," Aluino answered. "Considering the other bad situation, the question of them reputing Jael's Joining might be a moot point." "What other bad situation?" Jaelan asked. "There must be more to these Amazeen than a man like me can see." Aluino shook his head. "They are beautiful, there's no denying that, but I'm thinking they're far too much trouble to warrant risking my life and limb." "Has something happened to Orithia?" Aradia demanded. "Is my sister all right?" Aluino's turned stricken eyes to Jaelan. "This one's the sister?" he squeaked. "By the Prophet, that's the worst news I've heard all year!" "Spit it out," Jaelan ordered. "What's going on in Abbadon, 'Lui?"

"The king has decided to make the Amazeen his legal wife." "What?" Jaelan and Aradia shouted in unison. "And we know the Tribunal will never allow that," Aluino stated. "Why not?" Aradia asked, more offended that Orithia might be considered unworthy of a Hasdu king than concerned for her well-being. "A Rysalian monarch is not allowed to Join with a woman who worships outside his religion," Aluino explained. "Until she accepts his religion as her own," Jaelan amended. "That, she will not do," Aradia stated. "Our faithfulness to Alluvia is sacrosanct." Aluino's eyebrows shot up. "Then that means--" Jaelan cut him off with a lethal look. "There are ways around every law." "Not this one," Aluino said. "The Joining will not be recognized by law, and therefore, not a permanent Joining. The Amazeen will be nothing more than the harem girl she is now." "King Hasani must think he can get away with it," Aradia said. "Heis the king, after all." "Being the king doesn't place him above the law," Jaelan countered. "As stupid as Hasani is, he should know that." Aluino groaned. "Jaelan, please! Watch what you say! The walls have ears, and you know that happened the last time you opened your big mouth and criticized someone!" Jaelan responded with a careless shrug. "Why would Orithia agree to such a marriage?" Aradia asked. "Who said she had to agree?" Aluino challenged. "An Amazeen would never willingly marry a Rysalian unless there was a good reason." "Such as the agreement you and I have?" Jaelan asked, searching her eyes. Aradia blushed and said nothing. "You mean yours wasn't a love match?" Aluino snorted. When both Jaelan and Aradia frowned, he raised his eyebrows and palms in a gesture of peace. "One thing is for certain," Jaelan said. "Orithia sure as hell can't have fallen in love with Hasani. Not even his own mother loves him." "He's offering her something," Aradia said. "A reasonable assumption," Jaelan commented. "But what?" "Probably Jaelan's head on a platter," Aluino quipped. Aradia looked at him. "Why?" "Women just don't like this man," Aluino said. "And your sister has reason to dislike Jae--" "What of Nadira?" Jaelan interrupted. "I can not imagine the king's first-wife standing idly by and allowing him to flaunt the law." "What is she like?" Aradia asked.

"Meaner than a rabid dog." Once again, Aradia's gaze locked on Jaelan. "What happened between you and Orithia that she would want you harmed?" "You should tell her, Jael," Aluino said and searched his friend's bare chest. "By the way, the scratches have healed." "What scratches?" Aradia asked. "The ones your sister gave him," Aluino replied. "She did a brutal job of it, too." Aradia arched a brow, willing to give her new husband a chance to explain before she passed judgment. Jaelan cast Aluino an annoyed look, then directed his gaze to his wife. "When the redhead was killed, I had to subdue Orithia. She was caught up in her grief and anger, so she fought me." "Did you hurt her?" Jaelan shook his head. "I tried to keep her from being hurt." "You've made an enemy of Orithia. She will not forgive you for having conquered her and helped to place her in the seraglio." "I've heard she threatened to unman him if they should ever meet again," Aluino said. "She'll have to get past me to do it," Aradia stated. "Ah, young love," Aluino sighed. "I think you're dangly is safe for the present, Ben-Ashaman." "Yours won't be if you don't shut up!" Jaelan grumbled. "Go see to our horses since you have nothing better to do than to cause me grief." "You do that well enough on your own," Aluino shot back, starting to the door. "Which mount is hers?" Jaelan told him, and felt relief when his friend left. As the door closed, he turned to his wife. "Why do you think she's agreed to marry him?" Aradia scratched her cheek. "It couldn't be to gain her freedom, and we've ruled out love." She frowned. "Could he really have offered her vengeance against you?" "Doubtful. I'm of more use to him than what she has between her legs." Aradia blushed, though she rolled her eyes. "We do think highly of ourselves don't we, warrior?" "There are more beautiful women in Rysalia than there are Shadowlords." "That's probably true, but you're overlooking something. We are reasonably sure she could not have fallen in love with him, but what if he's fallen in love with her? Orithia is an Amazeen. We are not docile, but from what I know of Rysalian women, they are, at least to their men." Jaelan's dark brows clashed together. "True. Go on." "King Hasani is accustomed to women doing what he wishes, seeing to his every want and need. But Orithia will challenge his authority. She won't be meek or submissive. She'll fight him tooth and nail, as she fought you." A worried look began forming on Jaelan's dark features. He began to pace. "She'll intrigued him. He'll admire her bravery and see how far he can push her." "Which won't be far." "The intrigue will turn to admiration for her daring, and the admiration will turn to respect for her courage." "Then the respect might turn to something more tender," Aradia said.

The worried consideration on Jaelan's face shifted into an apprehensive look. "You might be right, wench." "And if he loves her--" "He'll do things for her that are neither appropriate nor wise," Jaelan finished. "Even something as foolish as testing the will and power of the Tribunal." After a light tap at the door, Aluino returned. "There are darker clouds building, Jael. We need to ride. Now!" "I thought this godsforsaken country was arid," Aradia grumbled. "All I've seen is rain and more rain..." "As I told you, we're in the rainy season," Jaelan said. "We'd best be going."

Chapter 9 "What happened when he was thirteen?" Aradia asked Aluino,. The rain had overcome them soon after leaving the inhospitable confines of Uadjit. With lightning forking all around and wind buffeting the horses, the trio had taken shelter in a cave with their mounts to escape the pummeling rain. After helping Aluino scramble for fodder to start a fire, Jaelan had come down with what he called a "sick headache." He had taken a measure of tenerse--a drug he had mixed with vinegar to lessen his headache--and now slept beside the fire, his back to them. "Did you ask him?" Aluino countered. "I don't think the warrior likes to talk about his childhood." Aluino poked at the fire with a stick. "He doesn't." "Whatever the people of Uadjit received, I imagine they deserved." "Actually," Aluino said, laying aside the stick, "Jael would disagree with you on that account." "They have no love for him. Don't tell me he has any feelings for them!" "I won't. He hates every last one of them, and with good reason. Well, all except maybe Samiel. I think he has some misguided feelings for that old bastard." "So what happened?" Aluino looked at his snoring friend. "He's asleep and can't hear us," Aradia said. The Diabolusian snorted. "He may be asleep, but I wouldn't put it past him to be listening to every word." "He was right. Youare afraid of your own shadow!" Aluino disdainfully lifted a shoulder. "You're a fool if you don't fear him, wench. He may have taken a liking to you, and may have even willingly brought your little viper's body to his for Joining, but never underestimate him. He is above all else a Death Lord and as Shadowlord, deadlier than anything you've ever encountered!"

Aradia ground her teeth. "Are you going to tell me what happened or not?" She squinted. "Or are you too afraid to open your big mouth?" The Diabolusian leaned against a rock and regarded her. "Did the innkeeper tell you people were murdered in Uadjit that day?" "He said one-fourth of the men were taken to the dungeon at Abbadon and a fourth of the girls were sent to a convent. He said nothing of killings." "Six people were hanged in the courtyard. One an hour from nine of the clock until two that afternoon. Three men and three women." "What had they done?" "Nothing. They were picked at random and summarily executed." "There had to be a reason they were killed." "The Tribunal had come looking for Jaelan, and were convinced the people of Uadjit were hiding him there." He made a disgusted sound. "As if they would!" "He had run away?" Aluino nodded. "And wasn't anywhere near the village. He was in Dahrenia." "But the Tribunal didn't believe the people." "They sacked the place, tore everything apart. When they didn't find him, they rounded up the handsomest young men and the prettiest young women and herded them to Abbadon. When Jael heard what had happened, he went to Abbadon and turned himself in to the Tribunal. He honestly believed the Tribunal would let the villagers go." "But they didn't." "He should have known they wouldn't. But he is an honorable man, and he was an honorable boy. He did what he thought was right but, true to form, the villagers hated him all the more." "Why did he run away in the first place?" Aluino let out a long breath. "Gehenna ordered him to the Abbey of the Domination foradditional training. Rather than allow that pervert to lay hands to him, he ran." "What happened when he returned?" The Diabolusian stretched out, the warm fire making his eyelids heavy. "Gehenna is the Prelate of Justice. What do you think happened?" "The warrior was punished." Aluino nodded, folding his arms over his chest and closing his eyes. "Strung up like a piece of meat and whipped by Gehenna, himself." "No wonder the warrior hates the man." "Why do you not use his given name, wench? After all, he is your husband." He sniffed. "Yourmate ." "Why does what I call my husband concern you, Vasquez?" "What did he promise you for the dubious honor of having your deadly little hand in Joining? Did he vow to help free your sister from the seraglio?" Aradia glared at him. "What if he did?" Aluino's smile turned spiteful. "That would explain why you agreed to be his mate. It had to be something of vast importance for you to subject yourself to his pawing."

She put shrillness to her words. "Do you think so little of him, think him so unworthy of a woman's affections?" Aluino's mouth twisted. "Jaelan is my friend as well as my commander. I hold him in the highest esteem, wench!" "Really?" Aradia sneered. "Is that why you insult him by thinking I would have him only to gain something from him?" "Isn't that the way of it? Or will you boldly lie by saying it was for love that you willingly became his wife?" "My reasons are my own, you Diabolusian warthog!" "You are using him to get what you want--just like you used Prince..." "Leave her alone, 'Lui," the Shadowlord ordered, his tone brooking no argument. He turned over, and his amber eyes gleamed with anger. He held a hand out to his wife. "Come, wench. The air's turning colder." Aradia cast Aluino an odd look, then lay beside Jaelan. He spooned his body to hers, his arms enfolding her. His warm breath teased the wisps of hair at her neck and sent shivers down her spine. "Is your headache better?" she asked. "A little." "Do you have such headaches often?" "I get them periodically. I was overdue." "Is there anything I can do?" "You are doing it already," he said, placing a light kiss on her shoulder. "I'm sorry our bickering woke you," she said in a contrite tone. "So am I." Aradia felt comfortable in her warrior's arms. His body heat warmed her, and the press of his muscular body relaxed her. She looked at his arms and saw faint scars nestled among the dark hair covering his flesh. "Go to sleep and stop wondering from whence they came," he said. "Stop reading my thoughts, Shadowlord," she returned. He surprised her by chuckling softly, his arms tightening around her. She knew the moment he returned to sleep, his deep, even breathing would lull her into the realm of Morpheus along with him. **** Aluino lay awake for long time, staring at the smoke wafting from the campfire. He listened to the horses, to Jaelan's light snoring, to the pop of the flames. He shifted from side to side, trying to find some comfort in the coarse wool blanket on which he lay. He scratched; he belched; he farted. He threaded his fingers together and cracked his knuckles, then twiddled his thumbs as his thoughts drifted back to the Amazeen lying in Ben-Ashaman's arms. "Who are you? And what is it youreally want with my friend?" Turning his head, he speared the sleeping woman with a steely stare. "You are pretty enough," he said in a grudging tone, then amended the thought. "Beautiful, actually." His stare shifted to what he could see of Jaelan's face, half-hidden behind the Amazeen's shoulder. "And why have you done this, my friend?" Why risk what you know Gehenna and Jahannum are going to do once they hear of you taking a woman in Joining?" Long into the twilight hours, Aluino entertained first one theory then another, trying to reason why either Shadowlord or Amazeen had entered into their demons' bargains.

"He promised to help you free the blonde, but what did you promise him?" Aluino asked. "What infernal vow did you make to snare a man unwilling to be snared?" **** At first light, Jaelan woke his wife and friend. The pinched look on his face told that his headache had stayed with him. Despite Aradia's insistence that they stay until he felt better, they saddled the horses and continued toward Abbadon. Low flying clouds rode on a brisk wind in the sharp gunmetal-gray sky. With no provisions for breaking their fast, the trio felt hungry, and Aluino's stomach loudly protested the lack of food "What I wouldn't give for a dish of mangos in cream," he sighed. "Mangos," Aradia repeated. "I love mangos." "The nectar of the gods is a ripe, sweet mango floating in a dish of fresh cream." "Aye." Aradia exchanged the first civil look with her husband's friend. "Riders," Jaelan said. Aluino frowned. "Temple guards?" "Looks that way," Jaelan replied. Aradia tensed. She had heard terrible things about the Rysalian Temple guards, their brutality and unchecked power legendary. Known as Warriors of the Abyss, the guard at Abbadon had a harsher, more devastating reputation than their governmental counterparts elsewhere in the vast country. "They're after you," Aluino said. Aradia flinched. Her hand went to the empty sheath at her thigh. "Give me my weapon," she demanded of Jaelan. "You won't need it." "If I am to protect you--" "I don't need protecting." Jaelan kicked his horse forward. "Stay here." Aradia would have followed, but Aluino grabbed her mount's reins. When she snarled, he shook his head. "Let him handle it. The last thing he needs is a woman making war noises to a Temple guard. He'd be obliged to chastise you in front of them. Is that what you want?" She tried to snatch her reins from the Diabolusian, but he kept firm possession of them. "I'm not about to let them hurt my man!" "They won't. Most likely, the King sent them when Jaelan failed to returned yestermorn as expected. If nothing else, Hasani looks out after his investments, and to him, Jael is worth more than any other warrior." Biting her lip and experiencing a great desire to leap across her mount and attack the Diabolusian to gain control of the reins, Aradia turned toward the oncoming riders. Jaelan had ridden a few hundred years ahead, and waited with his hands crossed over the pommel. With his back straight, his dark hair blowing in the breeze, he presented a compelling picture to Aradia. "What did you promise him, wench?" Aluino prodded. Annoyed and angered at the invasion of her privacy, Aradia ground her teeth. "Ask him. If he wants you to know, he'll tell you!" Shrugging, Aluino released her reins. "Go on. Make a fool of yourself. See what the Shadowlord does." Controlling a mount that sidestepped at its owner's harsh tone, the Diabolusian sniffed. "Maybe he'll beat you only a little black and blue for interfering."

Caught between wanting to protect her husband and doing as he had ordered, Aradia bit her tongue to keep from cursing Vasquez. She ignored him, pretending he was not within striking distance and knowing he'd no more allow her to race after Jaelan than he would permit her to hurt his friend. "Smart woman," Aluino said grudgingly. **** Jaelan relaxed as he shifted hishearing from Aluino and Aradia to the approaching Temple guards. He knew 'Lui would keep the wench from leaping into trouble, and he was relieved to know she was not so hotheaded that she would ignore her own safety to assure his. With his Shadowlord ability trained on the Temple guard, heheard a voice telling the others to be careful of their thoughts. A muscle in Jaelan's jaw bunched as he recognized the gruff tones of Sekhem Neter. "Is that a woman with the greaser?" a guard asked. "It looks that way," Neter answered. "Perhaps she is a gift for the King." The Shadowlord went rigid at such a vile suggestion. The thought of Hasani laying hands to Aradia sent a red-hot fog of fury coursing over him. His hands tightened on the pommel and his eyes narrowed. When the guards reached him, the deadly set of his face brought them up short. "Greetings, Lord Jaelan." Sekhem held up a hand to halt his troupe. "The King was concerned for your well-being, Milord. He sent us to find you and escort you to the fortress." "Since when do I need an escort, Neter?" A false smile shifted across the man's thick lips. "I am sure His Majesty thought you had become lost. Such as the time you were waylaid in Dahrenia." After a brief pause, he added, "Milord." Clenching his teeth to the intended insult, Jaelan nostrils flared. He hated Sekhem Neter almost as much as he hated the man's perverted masters. Before he could stop himself, he used the ability with which he'd been born and which the Magi who had trained him through childhood had finely tuned. One moment, Neter sat arrogantly astride his stallion, the next he flew through the air, thrown by unseen hands that had plucked him off his mount to dash him into the sand. He rolled on the ground, his body arching and flexing to the invisible kicks and hits that pummeled him. Blood spurted from his mouth and nose, and bruises began to show on the exposed parts of his skin. "Jaelan, please stop..." Jaelanheard his wife's soft request and allowed the paranormal hold he had on Neter to vanish. He twisted in the saddle, looked back at Aradia, then turned to speak to the second-in-charge. "Put your captain on his horse and get the hell back to Abbadon as quickly as your mounts will travel. I will be there shortly." "Aye, Milord!" the second-in-charge said. He motioned for two younger guards to retrieve Neter. Jaelan barely glanced at his wife as she reined in her mount beside him. The guards easing an unconscious Neter across the back of his horse riveted his attention. "It was something the bastard said," Jaelan said in defense. "No doubt, warrior," Aradia replied, "but killing him would have caused problems for you, and I care not to have my husband sleeping in prison instead of sleeping beside me in our bed this night." "Who said we were going to sleep?" "You intend on keeping me awake?" Aradia inquired. "For all intents and purposes, this is our Joining night," he quipped. "No, wench. Sleeping was not high on my agenda of things to do." "I don't need to hear this," Aluino grumbled and slapped his reins against his horse's shoulder. The beast sprang

forward, obviously eager to run. "He's jealous," Aradia pronounced. Jaelan smiled. "I believe he is."

Chapter 10 One look at the fortress of Abbadon chilled Aradia to the marrow, as it did all who viewed the vast structure for the first time. Perched atop a steeply inclined plateau with only a slender serpentine trail wide enough to accommodate one horse at a time, the fortress would be almost impossible for a force to breech its defenses. Rising seven levels, sheer, black granite walls soared more than one hundred feet straight up. Small oval arrow slits served as windows. Slanted downward, the openings, lined around the perimeter with sharp barb spikes, began on the third level. Though the ventilation openings also ran the perimeter on the fourth, fifth, and sixth floors, the seventh floor boasted a large window, its surface covered with intricately wrought iron bars. "You can't tell from here, but those bars are a foot in breadth and embedded in twelve-foot-thick reinforced granite walls," Jaelan said. "On the lower levels, eight-foot-thick timbers are lined side by side behind another three feet of plaster as added protection against attack." "They're serious about their privacy," Aluino quipped. "What of the roof?" Aradia asked. "Is it vulnerable to fire arrows?" Jaelan shook his head. "There're steel plates pressed between nine layers of four-foot-thick timber and braced with stone arches. There's nothing to catch on fire. The inside walls are lined with iron plate, then plastered." "With only one entrance, and that not even opening wide enough to allow an overly fat man to squeeze through, the fortress is nearly invulnerable to marauders," Aluino remarked. "The key word is 'nearly,'" Jaelan remarked. "No fortress is ever completely infallible." "Abbadon is close enough," Aluino defended. The closer Aradia came to Abbadon, the more unnerved she felt. The hair stood up on the back of her neck when she took in the shiny double doors that kept insiders locked in. In the early morning sunlight, the doors gleamed with a malevolence that set her teeth on edge. "We'll have to wait while the doors are opened," Jaelan informed her. "More than thirty men are needed to crank them open." "Are they that heavy?" Aradia breathed. "No one knows how much they actually weigh, but there are two-foot-thick timbers mortared horizontally behind two ten-foot-thick steel plates." "Are those spikes covering the door's surface?" she queried. "Aye, and each juts out one foot and is sharp enough to cleanly shave the thick beard from a Hasdu holy man and not knick his wrinkled face," Aluino joked. Aradia shivered as their horses began the climb the switchback trail.

"Though there are no battlements at Abbadon," Jaelan said, "there are observation points behind the oval openings, where men are stationed twenty-four hours a day. Sixteen men stand at fifty-foot intervals on each level, at each of the four directions, constantly scanning the desert. They will have seen and reported us the moment we were visible. As soon as we reach the first bend in the trail, those manipulating the door will begin opening it wide enough for one horse at a time to slide through. When we attain the last bend, fifty men will be standing guard outside." "They take no chances," Aluino added. "Inside is an ante-chamber that can be closed off from the rest of the fortress. Three portcullises welded together will rise only when the fifty guards outside, the ten in the ante-chamber, and the fifty more inside are assured we are of no danger." Aluino sighed. "The bars on that damned portcullis are so close together, you couldn't slip a piece of paper through." Aradia swallowed. "How many guards are there?" "More than a thousand," Jaelan answered. Aluino chuckled. "Not as easy to get in and out of as you thought, huh, wench?" As they reached the first turn in the trail, Aradia jumped when a loud, piercing shriek erupted. She turned fearful eyes to her husband. "The doors are opening," he explained. "My quarters are up on the fourth floor," Aluino said, pointing. "See where the raven's perched? That's my bedroom window." "Where are our quarters?" Aradia asked Jaelan. "On the sixth floor, at the back," he replied. "Below the King's private chamber," Aluino put in. "Abbadon faces North," Jaelan explained. "I wanted a Southern chamber." "Why?" "No sun in the morning or afternoon," Aluino answered for his friend. At Aradia's perplexed look, he shrugged. "No harsh light to bother him when he has one of his noggin aches." "Oh," Aradia said, understanding. The shrill grinding of the door echoed down the trail, grating on Aradia's nerves. She could imagine slaves sweating and straining, cranking the huge mechanism needed to part the forbidding steel barriers. In her imagination, she heard the grunting, the harsh orders of the slavemaster spurring on the emaciated workers. "Actually, they are muscular brutes," Jaelan said. "Oiled and sweaty, aye, but there's nothing slavish about them. It's considered an honor to ply the doors of Abbadon." "Stop reading my thoughts," she said for what might have been the fifth time that day. "Seventh." He grinned when she turned an exasperated face his way. It took nearly twenty minutes to traverse the serpentine trail. The grinding ceased as they neared the top. Now came the stamp of feet, the rattle of armor, and the clank of weapons. Rounding the last bend, Aradia saw the line of hulking warriors flanking the partially open door, twenty-five on the left, twenty-five on the right. Each held a sword in a spiked gauntleted hand and wore a full-face helmet that hid all but their piercing black eyes. Far to one side of the sinister entrance, people milled about long wooden stalls. Obviously merchants, but uncharacteristically silent as they watched the trio approach. Here and there, a sheep bleated or a cow lowed, horses corralled in a makeshift pen nickered, but none of the merchants tried to gain the notice of those who rode with the

Shadowlord. "They're afraid of you," she whispered. "They should be," Jaelan replied. Taking the lead, he nudged his mount through the narrow opening and into the antechamber of Abbadon. Aluino held back, waiting for Aradia to precede him. When she gained the interior, she found her husband dismounted. He held his arms up for her. "I can get down on my own, warrior," she silently sent to him. His lips twitched, but he made no reply. Sighing, Aradia allowed him to help her dismount. As she slid down the length of him, she saw a spark of passion in his tawny eyes, and her gaze fell to his full lips. "Behave," he warned in a forceful whisper. "I'm better when I'm bad, warrior," she cooed sweetly, her unspoken words bringing a faint blush to his dark complexion. "I'll hold you to that, wench," he mumbled. "Hold me to what part of you, warrior?" She batted her eyes when he gave her a sidelong warning glance. The double steel doors slammed shut without so much as a squeal of protest, making Aradia jump. She spun around. "Thirty-six men to open them, and only one man to shut them," Aluino said. The triple portcullis rose with a slight screech, and a black-uniformed soldier marched up to Jaelan and smartly saluted him. "The King has requested your presence immediately upon your return, Lord Jaelan." Jaelan and Aluino exchanged glances, then Jaelan drew in a long breath. "Tell His Highness I am on my way, Sadaam." He nodded as the man saluted again, then hurried to do the Shadowlord's bidding. "Do you want me to take the Lady Aradia to her quarters, Lord Jaelan?" Aluino asked, smiling when Aradia gave him a droll look. "I imagine the Lady would like to freshen up before she breaks her fast. Would you escort her to the seraglio?" Intense fear shot through Aradia. She turned stricken eyes to her husband, her hand tightening painfully on his arm. "Trust me, Milady," he told her. "But..." Aradia began, her face as white as parchment. Jaelan put a finger to her lips to shush her. "Take good care of my wife, Vasquez. I'll come to take her to our quarters when the King has finished with me." Aradia heard the stifled gasps of men who had overheard. She felt eyes crawling over her, assessing her, and the sensation felt most unpleasant. "Each man here would give his life unflinchingly for you, Milady," Jaelan said, looking around. "Is that not true, Adeben?" The tallest of the inner guards snapped to attention. "It is as you say, Lord Jaelan!" Aluino grinned. "It would be my honor to escort your Lady-Wife, Lord Jaelan." He proffered his arm to Aradia. "Go with Lieutenant Vasquez, Milady," Jaelan told her. "He will make sure you're where you should be when I come to fetch you." Casting her husband a worried look, Aradia allowed him to transfer her hand from his arm to Aluino's. Her heart raced

as Jaelan strode away. "Are we to assume congratulations are in order, Lieutenant?" Adeben inquired. Aluino shrugged. "His Lordship is quite content with his new status, so I believe congratulations would not be amiss." Adeben saluted, his fist to his chest, then stepped back, lowering his head as Aluino led Aradia into the inner bailey. "Quite content?" Aradia asked beneath her breath. "I didn't want to say he was horny as a schoolboy. But if you prefer I go back and clarify...?" "Must I go to the seraglio?" "Jael knows what he's about, wench. Don't start questioning him and you may last longer than his last wife." Aradia stopped dead in her tracks. She jerked her arm from Aluino's grasp. "What wife?" she demanded in a shrill voice. "Did he forget to tell you he was married before?" Aluino asked innocently. "What wife?" Aluino laughed. "I believe you're jealous." She shoved the Diabolusian as hard as she could, then watched with satisfaction as he stumbled, fell, and slammed onto his backside on the slick stone floor. "What is her name?" she shrieked, drawing back her foot to kick him. Despite the obvious pain to his tailbone, Aluino seemed to be enjoying himself. Aradia landed a vicious kick to the prone man's foot. "Tell me!" "I was joking, wench!" Aluino chuckled, scrambling to his feet before she could kick him again. "There has never been another wife." "Then why lie about it, you greasy spurt?" Aluino winced at the insult, but hitched one shoulder. "I had to know how you felt about Jael." "And just how is it any of your business how I feel?" "It was no secret that you loved Prince Viento." The angry flush drained from Aradia's face. "As much as the people of Diabolusia hated you, they could not fault you for your feelings." "I don't want to discuss this," she said, looking around for an escape from the conversation. "Everyone in the country knew how he felt about you. I would not like Jaelan to feel as you felt when Prince--" "Do not say his name to me!" Aradia shouted, covering her ears with her hands. "Never again!" The humor gone from his face. Aluino pulled down her hands and shook her. "I do not want my friend hurt. He's been hurt more than any man I've ever known, and I'll not allow you to break his heart. Do you understand, wench?" Tears fell down Aradia's cheeks. The very mention of the Diabolusian prince's name still had the power to wound her. Her chin trembling, she held Aluino's sharp gaze and nodded. "Hurt that man at your peril," Aluino growled.

"I'd never wish anyone to know the pain I've felt," she whispered, stumbling back as Aluino released her. "You will not hurt him?" "No." "Swear it by your goddess. Swear by Alluvial." She hung her head. "I swear it," she said, her voice trembling. "I realize it is too much to ask to make him happy, but try not to annoy him." Aradia lifted her chin. She searched his eyes, then shook her head. "You think him incapable of having a woman love him, don't you?" "I have no illusions where women and Jaelan Ben-Ashaman are concerned. You've not seen the Shadowlord within him. When you do, you'll be wise to remember you promised never to hurt him!" "I saw him in the desert with the Tribunal Guard, he--" The Diabolusian snorted. "He was playing with Sekhem Neter, wench. What you saw wasn't one-tenth of the true power he can wield." He narrowed his eyes. "Best you never see him when he's truly enraged." Aradia crossed her arms and rubbed the gooseflesh that pebbled on her flesh. "Come." Aluino reached for her. but she stepped back. "Stop manhandling me." "Jael must be getting senile in his advancing years," Aluino mumbled and started down the corridor. "You're going to be more trouble than you'll ever be worth." Aradia stuck out her tongue at his back. Had she a sword, she thought, she would have cleft him in twain. The thought brought a vicious grin. When he turned to make sure she followed, he quirked a thick brow. "What evil are you brewing, witch?" Her wicked smile broadened. "I was imagining how you'd look bobbing in a bubbling cauldron of pig shit, greaser." Aluino grunted and turned, but not before he could hide his own nasty smirk. Two tall Nubians guarded the door into the seraglio. Their black skin gleamed in the glow of the torchlight that adorned each side of the golden portal. Crimson vests hung open on thickly muscled chests and marked their rank as members of the household guard. Sheathed at the dark men's waists were scimitars, the blades of which curled against white cotton pantaloons. "This is the Lady Aradia," Aluino said as the guards came to attention, swords drawn to prevent entry into the seraglio's inner sanctum. "She's the legal mate of the Shadowlord and is to be treated accordingly." One man stepped aside while the other sheathed his sword and opened the door. Neither had reacted to the Diabolusian's words, but when Aluino motioned Aradia to enter, both guards respectfully bowed their heads. "Lord Jaelan will come at his convenience for his lady," Aluino explained. Aradia paused in the doorway, her heart thudding. The Diabolusian's words unsettled her. She turned, giving him a pleading look. "Be at ease, wench. He'll not leave you here any longer than necessary." Aradia would have questioned that curious remark, but before she could, someone grabbed her arm and unceremoniously jerked her into the seraglio. Turning to confront the person who had dared lay hands on her, she found herself gazing at a hairless chest with flesh as black as tar. She looked up, up higher, then higher still, until she stared into a scowling face tilted downward from a towering height.

"She is Lord Jaelan's wife!" Aluino shouted before the door closed. Her mouth gaping like that of a country bumpkin making her first trip to the city, she swallowed hard to still the panic rising in her chest. She'd never seen so tall a man, nor one as muscled and overpowering. Her knees began knocking together, and sweat broke out on her upper lip. Her fingers grew numb from the firm grip of the man's fingers around her arm. "I am Sulaimon," the towering hunk of ebony flesh rumbled, his voice as intimidating as his physical presence. Aradia issued a croak of fear that both angered her and brought home the precariousness of her position. With warriors such as this guarding the seraglio, it would be nigh impossible to escape, should the need arise. "You are Amazeen," the mountain thundered. She could do no more than nod. When the immense warrior's grip on her arm lessened, she thought she saw a sparkle of laughter in his midnight orbs. "The Lady Orithia has been expecting you," he stated. "Orithia?" Aradia breathed, she looked around. "May I see her?" Sulaimon nodded. "I have been ordered to bring you to her." He released her arm. "Follow me." He led her through luxurious surroundings--rooms with gold leaf, brilliantly hued carpeting, intricate wood inlays, finely wrought iron screens, teakwood moldings, ornate furniture, silk hangings, and lush plants dangling from twenty-foot ceilings. Perfumed scents tickled her nose. "Tell me I did not hear Lord Aluino call you the Shadowlord's wife," Sulaimon intoned. He stopped and turned to glare down at her. Aradia lifted her chin. "I am Lord Jaelan Ben-Ashaman's legal wife." A fierce frown drew the man's brows together over a huge beak of a nose. A muscle ground in his chiseled cheek. "The Lady Orithia will find such news most distressing, Milady." He started walking again. "Why?" Aradia asked, her short legs pumping to keep up with the man's long stride. "She has vowed to see the Shadowlord in his grave," he responded. "And she has the ear of the King." Fear rippled through Aradia, but she refused to allow it to creep into her voice. "A King who can gain any number of beautiful women to replace my sister in his affections, but who will have a difficult time finding another Shadowlord to do his bidding? Is that the same King of whom we speak?" The dark man stopped again. Twisting his head toward her, he flashed her a smile that showed a mouthful of thick, startling white teeth, made all the more brilliant in contrast to his stygian flesh. "This should be interesting," he said, then resumed his walk. The door that led into Orithia's quarters drew Aradia's notice. The scene molded in pure gold brought a blush to her cheeks. "The work of a gifted artisan," Sulaimon explained, seeing her reaction. Aradia shook her head. "The work of a perverted artist." She turned her eyes from the naked women emblazoned on the door, as they cavorted with one another in obscene positions. The scene made her nauseous. From Sulaimon's wide chest, laughter rumbled, no less ferocious than thunder echoing down a mountain. His smile seemed genuine, the laughter bringing tears to his huge eyes. He swiped at the moisture with a beefy paw. "Such was the Lady Orithia's pronouncement upon first seeing the door." Aradia's mouth twisted with disgust. "Such scenes are crafted by men for other men. I would imagine that kind of thing isn't allowed even here." "You are correct, Milady. The only release the women of the seraglio know comes from their masters." He arched a thick brow. "To that end, certain things are not allowed within the walls of the seraglio."

"Such as?" "Carrots, cucumbers, stalks of celery, ears of corn," Sulaimon said with a grin. At Aradia's scarlet blush, he laughed again and opened the door. "Who are you?" a shrill voice demanded. "Ah," Sulaimon sighed, "I had forgotten you were visiting the Lady Orithia, Saahira." "Who's this scrawny excuse for a female, Sulaimon?" the woman demanded. "Who the hell areyou ?" Aradia snapped, eyeing the red-haired beauty, standing arms akimbo and tapping a delicate bare foot before her. "Aradia!" Orithia squealed. She ran to her sister, grabbed her in a fierce hug, and swung her around and around. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you!" When Orithia released her, Aradia stared in shock. The flimsy silk pantaloons barely hid the shadowed V of Orithia's pelvic hair. The overly small vest of embroidered suede, held together by a slender golden chain, exposed most of Orithia's bosom. A gauzy veil attached to a jewel-studded circlet adorned her hair. "Where are your clothes, Sister?" Aradia asked. "I knew someone would come after me, but I did not dare to think it would be you," Orithia said as though she had not heard the question. "Who else came with you?" Saahira snorted. "As though she'll be able to help you. I told you not even a battalion of your women warriors could free you from this prison." "I suppose you know everything," Aradia grated. Saahira raised her chin. "I am the concubine of the Shadowlord. I know all!" Aradia's eyes widened. The redhead smiled nastily. "So you understand the power I wield at Abbadon? I suggest you speak to me in respectful tones." Orithia led Aradia to a low settee piled high with silk pillows. "Saahira has been a comfort to me. She's agreed to help me exact my revenge on the man who's responsible for my imprisonment." "What man would that be?" Aradia asked, sitting beside her. "Jaelan Ben-Ashaman," Orithia said with a sneer. "Saahira hates him almost as much as I." "More so, Pale One," Saahira stated. "You're not required to pleasure the vile beast." "Thanks be to Alluvial." Orithia took Aradia's hands in hers. "How did you get here? Who captured you?" Aradia blinked. "Is that the only way you imagine I'd come to your rescue? By being captured?" Saahira chuckled. "You certainly didn't walk into Abbadon on your own. A man brought you, whore, else you would not be here." Before Aradia could leap to her feet, Orithia tightened the grip on her hands. "Be careful what you say to my kinswoman, Saahira. I will tolerate only so much of your insubordination. I'll soon be Queen, and where will you be then? You do not want to make an enemy of me." Saahira shrugged. "You are not Queen yet, Pale One. Do not count your ducklings before they're hatched." "Send her away before I tear out that ugly red hair," Aradia said beneath her breath. Orithia giggled. "Will you excuse us, Saahira? I have much to say to my sister."

The woman's face turned hard, but she made no comment. Instead, she sauntered to the door, flipping her long hair over her shoulder. She glanced back, giving Aradia a hateful look, then left. "She's nothing more than a prostitute, but the information she gives me is invaluable," Orithia said. "I'd question just how valuable. That one isnot your friend, Sister." "I know she isn't. She hates me as much as I hate her. But we have a common enemy and are working toward ridding ourselves of him." Aradia frowned. "Lord Jaelan." "I'll see him in hell for his part in my captivity. I--" "He brought me here." Orithia gaped. "Oh, Aradia, no!" She palmed Aradia's cheek. "I'm so sorry! How did that evil son of a--" "He's my husband." "What?" Orithia breathed, color draining from her face. She trembled violently, her fingers fluttering at her mouth. "I agreed to Join with him if he'd free you from this place. He said it was in his power to do so." Aradia's shoulders drooped. "But that was before you agreed to become King Hasani's wife. Now, there's nothing the warrior can do and we'll both be here the rest of our lives." Orithia shook her head over and over. "No, this can't be." "We were legally Joined by a magistrate in Uadjit, the town in which Jaelan grew up. Even now, he is at audience with the King, no doubt telling him of our Joining." The stunned look on Orithia's face slowly metamorphosed into one of anger. When she closed her mouth, her lips pressed into a thin line and her jaw became tight. Her eyes narrowed into slits, and she slumped against the cushions. "He's not the monster you believe him to be," Aradia said. "Did he rape you?" "Of course not." "Have you mated with that infernal demon?" Orithia snapped. "We have not had our Joining night, no." "Then the Joining has not been consummated. I'll have Hasani annul this misbegotten travesty." "I don't want that." "Why?" "I want him." "Whatever for?" "Because he wants me and we--" Orithia gasped. "He wants you?" "His was the life I saved in Diabolusia. Remember me telling you?" At Orithia's nod, Aradia gave a small shrug. "He was grateful for what I did, and though he has not said as much, I believe he may bear me a measure of affection." "Affection," Orithia repeated, eyes wide.

"Perhaps even love." Orithia burst out laughing. "Oh, this is wonderful!" She got up from the cushions and whirled around, her palms rising to the heavens. "This is better than what Saahira wanted to do to him!" A heavy frown pulled at Aradia's face. "What do you mean?" Shrieking with delight, Orithia danced across the room, then clapped her hands. "The stag has finally been brought to ground and by a hand he will not stop when it places the dagger to his worthless throat!" The words settled like poisonous darts in Aradia's brain. "No, Sister. You don't understand." "Thanks be to Alluvial for Her answer to my prayers! I'll have my revenge on the feared Shadowlord of Abbadon. You'll be his downfall, Ardy! You'll be the one to give me Jaelan Ben-Ashaman's head on a silver platter!"

Chapter 11 Aluino slipped into the throne room, nodding at the guards and some of the silent warriors in attendance. Spying Jaelan near the raised dais that held the golden throne, Aluino made his way between the milling warriors, making no apology for pushing some out of his way. "The King is keeping him waiting," Tarsis Khnumisi said as Aluino came abreast of him. The old warrior stood with arms crossed over a chest that had lost none of its muscled bulk. On his head sat a red and white keffiya, held in place by a double black cord agal; the headdress hid his severed left ear. The thick scars criss-crossing his weathered face gave the retired soldier a gruesome, forbidding look. "That doesn't bode well, does it?" Aluino whispered. "Tell me about the woman." "She is the Amazeen from Diabolusia," he said, knowing no other explanation would be necessary. Tarsis cursed. "By the Prophet, what other ill luck can that boy have? Just last week he was blubbering in his beer about that damned female." Aluino grinned. "He always blubbers about her when he's had too much Heqet." "Look at him," Tarsis said in a disgusted tone, nudging his chin toward the Shadowlord. "I sometimes think the man's retarded." "The man is in love." Aluino shrugged helplessly when Tarsis turned to him. "And I think the feeling is mutual." Tarsis' mouth dropped open. He slapped his right ear several times with his palm. "Am I hearing things, warthog? What foul rumor are you thinking to spread?" Aluino lowered his voice. "As much as neither of us hoped this day would come, old man, I tell you it has. He's found the Amazeen and has made her his own." A snarl erupted from Tarsis' throat, then he stiffened. "The King has arrived." He dropped to the floor, giving obeisance to his sovereign. Aluino lowered himself to the floor and stretched out his arms, resting his forehead against the backs of his hands.

"Rise!" the Chief Tribunalist shouted. **** Jaelan was the last to gain his feet. He came to attention, his shoulders back, arms rigid at his sides, his chin up. He stared straight ahead, his eyes locked with those of his King, who slumped in his elaborate gold chair. "Relax, Jaelan," the King ordered. Jaelan shifted his body into parade rest--legs spread, arms behind him, right wrist clasped in his left palm. "Thank you, Your Majesty." "Where did you go, Jaelan?" Jaelan swallowed before answering. "To Daedel, Your Majesty." "Ah, yes," King Hasani sighed. "And how was mistress Olufemi's food?" "As palatable as ever, Majesty." The King plucked a piece of lint from his robe. "And what else did you find palatable in Daedel?" Jaelan's nostrils flared. His eyes cut to Chief Guard Sekhem Neter, who stood with an amused look on his ruddy face. "May I have permission to speak freely, Your Majesty?" Jaelan asked, all too aware of Lord Gehenna, who entered the throne room. After waving a negligent hand, the King settled in his chair and steepled his fingers, resting his chin upon the tips. "Perhaps Your Majesty remembers the time I was imprisoned in Diabolusia. The woman who saved my life was in Daedel." The King's brow rose. "The Amazeen who was the consort of the Diabolusian prince?" "Aye, Your Majesty." His palms slick with sweat, Jaelan surreptitiously wiped them on his pant legs. King Hasani sat forward, his hands gripping the chair arms. "This is the woman you defied me to Join?" "With all due respect, Your Majesty, it was not my intention to defy you. I--" "But you did not seek permission to take a mate, did you?" Fear of losing Aradia drove down Jaelan's tall frame. His King glared at him, and from the corner of his eye, Jaelan saw Gehenna chuckling and Sekhem Neter smirking. Though he did not turn to survey the other warriors, Jaelan felt their eyes on him. "Well?" the King barked. "Do you dare make me repeat the question?" Jaelan took a deep breath. "Your Majesty once told me that whatever I wanted, I was to take. You told me I did not need to seek permission from any man." "I am notany man!" the King bellowed, coming to his feet. "Donotremind me what I said--I know perfectly well what I told you!" "My apologies, Your Majesty, if I overstepped my boundaries, but I did not believe the taking of a bride was of import to any one other than myself. I had no idea it would displease you so greatly." Jaelan flexed his sweaty palms and wished he could wipe the perspiration from his upper lip. "It does not displeaseme ," the King grated, "but it greatly displeases Arch-Deacon Gehenna. He has lodged a formal complaint, complete with a fancy seal! He has asked for your censure in this matter. Give me one good reason why I should not turn you over to him!" Jaelan knew how much the King hated Gehenna and his brother Jahannum. "I do not answer to Lord Gehenna, Your Majesty. I answer only to you. If my Joining does not displease you, why should it displease the Arch-Deacon?"

The King's angry face relaxed. He cocked his head. "Well said, Lord Jaelan. Well said." He took his seat, stretching out one leg as he slumped against the thick cushion. "Lord Gehenna? What have you to say in response ?" Gehenna's frigid eyes locked on Jaelan. "He dares to flaunt the authority of the Tribunal by making such a statement, Your Majesty. Even though he is Shadowlord, he is not above the law." "Whose law?" the King inquired politely. "He broke no law of mine." "He violated the laws of the Tribunal Guard by wedding an unbeliever. Though he is your personal employee, he is, nevertheless, a soldier of the Crown. Granted, he is an exalted soldier, but a soldier nonetheless. If you allow him to exhibit disdain for the laws of the Tribunal, who will uphold those laws, Your Majesty? Without laws, there would be anarchy." King Hasani put his elbow on the chair arm and braced his cheek in his palm. Once again, his entire attention focused on Jaelan. "So to prevent this anarchy of which you speak, you wish Lord Jaelan to be punished for his supposed crime against the Tribunal?" "Aye, Your Majesty," Gehenna answered. The King drummed the fingers of his free hand on his knee. "And exactly what punishment do you require, Lord Gehenna?" "His ill-advised and unlawful Joining to the infidel woman should be put aside and she returned to her homeland." The tense look on Jaelan's face drew the King's notice. "What say you to that suggestion, Lord Jaelan?" "The Joining wasnot unlawful, Your Majesty. A registered magistrate in my home district of Uadjit duly performed the ceremony. I can not stop you from annulling the Joining, but should that happen, I can promise it will be a decision that will be regretted." A gasp ran through the assembled warriors. "As you can see, Majesty," Gehenna said, a snide smile tugging at his thick lips, "Ben-Ashaman makes threats to his sovereign lord. Obviously the woman has put a curse on your levelheaded Shadowlord." "That was no threat," Jaelan decreed. "It was a solemn vow. The only curse on me is your unwavering attempt to have what you never will." As another gasp filtered through the throng, King Hasani flinched. He held up a hand. "Jaelan made no threat against me , Lord Gehenna, nor would he. I have no intention of annulling his Joining, so put that matter aside." At Gehenna's sputter of protest, the King shushed him."That matter is settled! Let it drop!" Jaelan relaxed his shoulders. He knew the King would not have annulled his marriage, since he, himself, was contemplating a marriage to an unbeliever. He also knew the situation had grown more complex. Hasani would have no choice but to soothe Gehenna and the Tribunal in some way. "And what is your opinion?" the King asked the man standing to Jaelan's left. "The Tribunal demands this man be censured for his lack of respect," Chief Tribunalist Abasi Ksathra answered. He glanced at Lord Gehenna, then took a few steps toward the dais. "As the Arch-Deacon says, we can not allow even our much-respected Shadowlord to defy rules that must be followed by all Rysalians. If he is not made to atone for his conduct, then--" "Cease your rambling, Abasi." The King fanned the air, then sighed. "You'll get your pound of flesh. Have you anything further to say, Lord Jaelan?" Jaelan came to attention. "No, Your Majesty. I am at your command." "Then report to the Temple within the hour so this affair will be settled." "Aye, Your Majesty!" Jaelan agreed, striking his chest with his right fist. The King stood. Those gathered bowed as he stepped from the dais. He cast Jaelan a final troubled look, then exited.

"Don't you ever get tired of bashing your head against stone walls, boy?" Tarsis growled when he approached Jaelan. Jaelan ignored his mentor and turned to Aluino. "Get word to my lady that it will be tomorrow before I can come for her." "If I know Gehenna, it will be more than a day before you can claim her," Tarsis grunted. "Tell her to await the retarded man's appearance on the day after tomorrow." "Tell her tomorrow," Jaelan corrected, "else she'll worry. And tell her nothing about this." "As though one of the women won't," Tarsis scoffed. "It will be all over the seraglio before you ever make it to the temple." "Not if you see to it personally," Jaelan suggested. Tarsis nodded, then issued a piercing whistle to a warrior standing nearby. The man came running. When he came to stand before the retired warrior, he struck his chest in acknowledgement. "Go to the seraglio and ask for Sulaimon," Tarsis ordered. "Tell him that no news of today's happening in the throne room is to reach the ears of the women. Explain that it is by myorder and not at my request." "Aye, Your Grace!" The man ran through the gathered warriors, who stood talking in excited whispers. "You enjoy your status, don't you, old man?" Aluino questioned with a twitch of his lips. Tarsis ignored the question and searched Jaelan's eyes. "Someone should be at the Temple with you. You will not deny me that right, will you?" "No," Jaelan drawled. Tarsis pointed at Aluino. "You will wait outside with two of our most trusted Death Lords. Have Jael's quarters ready for his arrival, and make damned sure that redheaded viper is nowhere in sight!" Aluino sneered. "I'll take great pleasure in preventing Saahira from ever gaining Jaelan's bed again." "I was looking forward to sharing that bed tonight," Jaelan said on a long sigh. "That will give you something to think on for the next few days, eh?" Tarsis slapped his protégé on the back, then slipped his arm around the Shadowlord's shoulder. "Is she as beautiful as you remembered?" "More so." "That's good," Tarsis remarked, "for if the prize is worthy, the expense is not so hard to pay." **** Just as Aradia had begun to speak further with her sister about the Shadowlord, two dusky-skinned servants arrived to show her to a bath. She had protested, but Orithia shook her head. "Traveling in the heat of the desert has a tendency to cause a certain ripe odor to cling to one," her sister quipped. "When you've refreshed yourself, we'll speak at length." Now, disrobing at the edge of a sumptuous marble pool filled with water the color of sapphires, Aradia felt relief no other harem women shared the room. She was in no mood to answer questions, and idle chitchat had always bored her to tears. As she slipped into the warm, lapping waters, she sighed, the tension in her muscles relaxing. After washing her hair, she took up a sea sponge and a bar of lavender-scented soap and lathed her sticky flesh. By the time she finished, she felt sleepy, hiding a yawn as servant girls wrapped her in a large cotton bath sheet. They led her to a room prepared for her. Aradia had seen nothing like it. Luxurious to the point of obscenity, the worth of the golden fixtures, jewel-studded lamps, extravagant silk couches, and Chalean lace bed hangings overwhelmed her. An expensive bauble sat on an elegant parquetry table everywhere she looked, or fine satin lay draped over a comfortable down pillow or mattress. The soft colors added to the relaxing atmosphere.

As inviting as the huge bed looked, Aradia could not forego a bounce upon it. Once stretched out on the silk and lace coverlet, she would not have climbed off had her life depended upon it. Sinking into the body-molding mattress, she closed her eyes and grinned. "I could get used to this very quickly," she said, hiding another yawn. "Do you want your meal now, Milady?" one of the servant girls asked. Aradia started, bracing her upper body on her elbows to find the girl standing at the foot of the bed. Her gaze shifted to the tray held in the other servant girl's hands. She licked her lips. "Aye, I'm starved." The girls smiled in unison. One brought the tray to the bed, while the other set a small table beside it. The odors wafting through the room made Aradia's mouth water. "Enjoy, Milady," one girl said, bowing as she backed away. "If you need anything, you have but to call. We will be just outside the door." When the servants departed, Aradia dove into the meal as if it would be her last. She rolled her eyes to the delicious tastes that burst upon her tongue. She'd never tasted such heavenly food, and the chilled cherry wine flowed down her parched throat like nectar. She ate every morsel, despite having to stop to stifle several yawns. When she finished, devouring the little chocolate dessert cake, she set the tray on the table and lay down, sighing as her eyes began to close.

Chapter 12 Tarsis was accustomed to seeing men punished. Over the course of his long military career, he had meted out many of those punishments himself. The sight of a man being tortured had lost its effect upon him. But as he aged, some things began to bother him--like Jaelan's punishment. The first pass of the cat-o'-nine as it dragged down Jaelan's back from shoulder to waist made the old warrior sigh. The second pass, striping the Shadowlord from left ribcage to right, caused Tarsis to purse his lips. By the fifth pass, he frowned, knowing fifteen more passes remained before they would unhook Jaelan's wrists from the hitching post. **** When the whip clawed down his back for the sixth time, Jaelan flinched. The stinging suddenly intensified to that of a burning torch laid to his flesh. The blood running down his sides and shoulders felt like acid where it passed. He shifted beneath the agony and clenched his teeth to keep from groaning, wondering why, with the mass of scar tissue already covering his torso, he should feel this pain so acutely. **** His forehead creased with concern, Tarsis watched his protégé squirm against the fall of the whip. He unfolded his arms and took a few steps closer to the whipping post. If Jaelan came close to releasing his suffering in a scream, Tarsis wanted to be in front of him to warn away that notion. Jaelan would never forgive himself if he allowed his tormentors to make him cry out. It had always been a source of pride to the young man that nothing made him show emotion that could be used against him. The tenth fall of the whip crashed the Shadowlord into the wooden post with enough force to make the beam shudder. Tarsis barely noticed it, however, when he saw the whip wielder lower the end of the whip into a bowl held by the

detestable Abasi Ksathra, dipping the barbs up and down, before pulling it out again. "What's in that bowl?" Tarsis inquired, but the pop of the eleventh pass of the whip drowned out his words. **** Jaelan was beyond hearing anything. His back was on fire and it was all he could do not to bellow. He clenched his teeth, the muscles in his jaw straining with the force. His fingers clawed at the wooden beam, and he breathed heavily through his nose with the effort of maintaining his composure. He pressed his forehead against the wood, the salty sweat dripping from his brow making his eyes sting. As the thirteenth and fourteenth blow landed almost in the same spot across his shoulders, he could not stop the whimper that burst from his straining throat. Tarsis appeared before him. "Ben-Ashaman! Look at me!" Jaelan turned his head, his right cheek pushed against the wooden upright. He trembled, but he set his jaw against the savagery. "Hold steady, boy," Tarsis ordered. "Remember your training." The fifteenth blow nearly undid Jaelan, but he bit the inside of his mouth, drawing blood, and stopped the scream that threatened to erupt. **** Tarsis tore his eyes from his suffering friend and saw the whip being dipped once more into the bowl in Ksathra's hands. When the Chief Tribunalist saw he was being watched, he extended the bowl toward the old warrior. "Nothing more than water, Khnumisi. To cleanse the barbs." "And make them sharper if there's no flesh clinging to them, eh?" Tarsis accused. **** Jaelan squeezed his eyes shut and managed to endure the final five passes of the cat-o'-nine, keeping the screams at bay. But with the brutal pain, he could not manage to stand erect when men unlocked his hands from the upright. Sagging into Tarsis' arms, with the agony of contact with those steady arms too much to bear, Jaelan fell headlong into unconsciousness. **** The old warrior carried Jaelan through the halls of Abbadon and to his quarters. "By the Prophet," Aluino whispered as he opened the door. He took one look at the blood splattered on the aged warrior and winced. "Is he all right?" "Hell no!" Tarsis bellowed, kicking the door shut. He strode through the chambers and straight to Jaelan's bed, where the covers had been turned back. "Where the hell are the Death Lords I told you to have here?" "We are here, Your Grace," Jubil Ben-Alkazar said as he came out of the bathing chamber. "Arcan is--" "Help me cut these clothes from the boy," Tarsis interrupted. As though the man he carried was a priceless work of art, Tarsis laid Jaelan on the bed, turning him onto his stomach as gently as he could. Jubil called his brother, Arcan, and told him to bring a knife. He shivered when he saw the fiery condition of Jaelan's back. "Why is the flesh so red?" "Just help me get him out of these clothes," Tarsis snarled. "We'll talk about what those gutless bastards did to him when we're finished!" Aluino and Arcan ran their sharp blades down Jaelan's leather britches from waist to cuff, careful not to knick him. With infinite care, they peeled away the material as Jubil hefted Jaelan's hips from the blood-soaked sheets. "Shouldn't we send for a Healer?" Arcan asked. "Hell no!" Aluino spat. "You know how he feels about Healers!"

"But are we capable of caring from him in this condition?" Jubil asked. "I've seen men whipped before, but I've never seen their flesh turn this color." "You've never seen the whip bobbed through whatever those sons-of-bitches bobbed it through, either!" Tarsis growled. "Water, my hairy wrinkled ass!" "You think they put some brew on the whip?" Aluino asked. "I don't think it, warthog. I know it!" He pinned Jubil with a fierce glower. "Get warm water and the strongest soap you can find. We need to bathe these wounds before they get infected." "That's going to hurt," Aluino said with a shudder. "Shut the hell up," Tarsis snapped. When Arcan returned with steaming water, he had one of the serving men with him. Before Tarsis could shout disapproval, the Death Lord held up a hand. "I think you need to hear what he has to say." Glowering, the old warrior came toe-to-toe with the wavering servant. "Well? What is it?" "I...I am Kafele, Your G...grace..." "Did I ask your name, fool?" Tarsis bellowed. "Tell me what you know!" The servant backed up, but whined when Tarsis advanced. "I overhead Lord Gehenna ordering a Temple Guard to fetch him a jar from the Healer. When I heard what it was he wanted, I tried to find you, but you had already gone to the throne room. I--" "I don't need to know what you did, you babbling hyena. I need to know what they put on the tines of that prophet-be-damned whip!" "Maiden's Briar, Your Grace," the man whispered, his wide eyes filled with stark terror. Tarsis staggered back. His ruddy face lost its coloring and the savage scars etched on his flesh stood out in sharp contrast. Aluino covered his mouth with a trembling hand and slumped against the wall. Jubil put an unsteady hand on his brother's shoulder. Arcan shook his head. "I don't know this brew. What is it?" "An assassin's weapon," Tarsis replied, shaken by the information. "It is imported from the warthog's part of the world." Aluino nodded. "It comes from a type of sea creature. The poison's extracted from its flesh, then distilled into a powder. It will cause paralysis, but can also cause death." "Is that why he's so still?" Arcan asked. "Aye," Tarsis replied. "Should we not wash it from his flesh?" Arcan pressed. "No!" Tarsis said. "We would only rub it in all the more." "Will it kill him?" Jubil asked, his face pale. "I believe not." Tarsis looked at Aluino. "But it will be more than a day or two before he'll be able to fetch his woman. Best you make Sulaimon aware." "A very dangerous brew to mess with," Arcan remarked. "Is there an antidote?" "Not for a first poisoning," Tarsis answered. "For a second--" "If you survive the first," Aluino interrupted.

Tarsis snarled. "For a second poisoning, there's a drug that will help keep you alive and make the symptoms less severe, though convulsions are liable to start with a second poisoning." "What could the man who first used an evil brew have been trying to accomplish?" Arcan asked. "It was a man intent on killing his master who first made use of it." Aluino put in. "Today, assassins rub that shit on their hands a little at a time until they are immune to its effects. There's an old tale about a philandering husband and a wife who massaged his cheating member with the powder." "A rather excruciating way to pay for dallying where you ought not to be dallying," Jubil quipped. For a long time, Jaelan's ragged breathing became the only sound in the room. All eyes studied the livid redness of Jaelan's back. Purple streaks fanned out from the deeper gashes. After a while, Tarsis moved closer. "He is a Shadowlord, and his recuperative powers are greater than a normal man's. I believe he'll be able to throw off the poison on his own." "So we do nothing?" Arcan inquired. "We wait," Tarsis grumbled, then looked at the servant. "Your information was invaluable, Kafele. How may I repay you?" Kafele swallowed. "I wish no repayment, Your Grace. All I ask is that you allow me to stay and help in any way I can." "Kafele," Arcan said, "holds Lord Jaelan in very high esteem." "I would give my life for him," Kafele admitted. Tarsis grinned. "Is that not what your name means, boy--'to die for'?" The servant bobbed his head, his face reddening. "So I have been told, Your Grace." The old warrior nodded. "Would you like it if I had you assigned as Lord Jaelan's personal assistant?" Aluino's brows shot up. "Oh, he'll like that, he will!" "Keep your opinions to yourself, warthog," Tarsis ordered. "Well, Kafele? What say you?" The man smiled broadly. "I would be honored, Your Grace!" "Then consider yourself that one's watchdog," Tarsis said, nodding toward Jaelan. Aluino snorted. "That is what I thought you meant, old man." "Make yourself a useful little greaser and ask Sulaimon to tell Lady Aradia that her husband has been indefinitely delayed. Explain to him that he is to allay any fears she might have that Jaelan has left her there and forgotten about her. You know how women can be." "This one isn't like the women of whom you're accustomed, old man," Aluino quipped. "She's steel instead of silk. She'll question where her Shadowlord is and why he hasn't come for her." "I'm acquainted with Amazeen women, warthog," Tarsis sniffed. "I had one once. She was the only woman I ever loved." At Aluino's openmouthed stare, the retired warrior shrugged. "You know only what you've heard rumored of me, Vasquez. Had I trained your sorry ass, you might have learned more." "Be glad you did not train under our venerable warrior," Jubil stated. "You might not have survived the teaching!" "What happened to your Amazeen?" Aluino asked, ignoring Jubil's insult. Tarsis frowned. "She was taken from me and placed in a convent. I never saw her again." "Though he tried to rescue her," Jubil remarked.

"And was punished for it," Arcan added. "Our father helped Sir Tarsis free his lady," Jubil said. "I never saw her again," Tarsis repeated, his gaze clouding with the memory. He seemed to mentally shake himself, then turned a stony glare on Aluino. "Did I give you an order, greaser?" Aluino ground his teeth, but made no reply. He walked to the door, his shoulders taut. Tarsis put his hands on his hips and rolled his head from side to side, the bones popping loudly. "It will be a long afternoon and night, warriors. I suggest we make ourselves comfortable." "Can I get refreshments for you, Sir Tarsis?" Kafele asked. "I could use a beer or two or three. I've had no mid-day repast, so gather what you can from the kitchens and bring enough food for the five of us. The boy won't be eating or drinking any time soon." Kafele bowed and hurried to do the old warrior's bidding. On the way out, he nearly bumped into the Shadowlord's concubine and stepped aside for her, dropping his head in respect, though he hated the woman as much as any female he'd ever encountered. "Greetings to you, Lady Saahira," he said loudly to warn the men of the prostitute's arrival. Saahira disregarded the salutation, her green eyes flicking contemptuously over the servant. But before she could enter Jaelan's chamber, she encountered the solid, frowning bulk of Tarsis Khnumisi, who silently blocked her entry. "Stand aside, warrior," she dared to order. When the old warrior ignored her command, she lifted her chin. Wrapped in a dark red cloak pulled around her body, her hands hidden, she stepped forward. "Get out of my way!" "The Shadowlord has no further need of your services, whore," Tarsis stated, his gaze lowering to her midsection before lifting to lock with hers. "You no longer have his permission to enter these quarters." Saahira Ahumnnani's emerald green eyes widened with fury. "I donot take orders from you, Khnumisi! Let Ben-Ashaman tell me his wishes, then I'll consider whether I'll abide by them!" Tarsis' expression hardened at her blatant disrespect. That she dared call the Shadowlord by his surname infuriated him. He reached out for her. "What have you beneath the cloak, Saahira?" She twisted away, but as she did, liquid splashed the front of her cloak. She shrieked, shrugged it off, and backed away as though the flames of a roaring fire had kissed her. A crystal bowl fell out of her cloak and shattered on the terra cotta floor. When the contents spread toward her, she jumped back, her eyes bulging. "More Maiden's Briar to rub into the Shadowlord's wounds, bitch?" Tarsis roared, grabbing her flowing red hair. He jerked her backward, grinning maliciously at her yowl of pain. "Return to your Whoremaster," he snarled, yanking her hair for emphasis, "and tell him Lord Jaelan is being guarded day and night, and anyone unauthorized to enter his chambers will be gutted on sight. Do you hear me?" "Aye," Saahira whimpered, tears cascading down her pale cheeks. Tarsis released his grip on her hair, lifted his foot, and planted his boot on her shapely derriére, pushing her away. When she fell to her hands and knees, scrambling not to touch the puddle of liquid, Tarsis threw back his head and laughed. "I should dredge your whoring face through that stuff, then sit back and watch you breathe your last." No doubt fearing just such a reprisal, Saahira pushed up from the floor and ran. **** Aradia woke the next morning with a slight headache, teeth that felt coated with a blanket of fuzz, and a detached feeling that made her listless as she threw back the covers. For a moment, she stared down at her nakedness, then remembered being wrapped in the fleecy towel. Looking around and not seeing it, she realized the servant girls must have taken it. Upon viewing the gauzy pantaloons and embroidered vest draped over the lower mattress, her lips tightened. "I'll not wear that lewd thing." Snatching the silken sheet from the bed, she wrapped it around her and headed for the bathing room in search of a

chamber pot. Dizziness made her trip a bit unsteady, but once she had relieved herself and splashed water on her numb face, she began to suspect her deep sleep had come from some Healer's bottle. Though she searched the chamber, she could find no clothing other than the indecent scraps of material on the bed. Still wrapped in the sheet, she plopped down on the mattress and waited for the servants to return. But it was not the servant girls who scratched at her door, but the dark mountain that called himself Sulaimon. Glancing at the proffered clothing the Shadowlord's lady had deigned not to don, Sulaimon smiled. "There will be no other garments provided for you,anide ." Aradia narrowed her eyes. "What did you call me?" "Anide," Sulaimon said, folding his muscular arms. "It is Rysalian for 'stubborn.'" "What does 'aziza'mean?" Sulaimon's smile widened. "The Shadowlord has called you thus?" Aradia nodded warily. "That is a Hasdu word. It means 'precious.'" A little smile tugged at Aradia's lips. "Oh..." "There are terms of endearment the Shadowlord might like to hear from your lips.Hasani means 'handsome,'jabari means 'brave one,' andzuberi means 'strong.'" A wide grin stretched the ebony face. "Or you might call him Heh-Matsimela ." "Which is?" "'God of the Immeasurable Root,'" Sulaimon defined with a wag of his brows. Aradia blushed to the tips of her toes. "Ah, I don't think I'll have a reason to use that one." "One never knows, does one?" The smile slipped from his face. "Lord Jaelan sent word he will be delayed, and asks that you trust he is doing what needs to be done." He turned. "The Lady Orithia has sent me to bring you to her. I will leave you to dress." "I'll not wear that thing," she said, pointing at the flimsy clothing. She felt more upset about having to wear the lewd garment than concerned that Jaelan would be delayed. The dark man shrugged. "Then you will go naked." He clapped his hands. The two servant girls from the previous evening appeared at his summons. Their faces grim, they headed toward Aradia. "Remove the Lady Aradia's sheet and strip her bedding," Sulaimon ordered. He nudged his chin toward the bed hangings. "Take those, as well." Aradia ground her teeth. "If it's your intent to humiliate me by having me wear those offensive garments, you'll certainly gain your objective." Sulaimon held up his hand to forestall the servants. He shook his head. "It is not meant to shame you, Lady. It is the required clothing within the seraglio. The other women find the garments pleasant to wear." "So it's your belief the Shadowlord will find my shame of such little account that he'll not mind you forcing me to wear such lewd attire?" A deep frown creased the dark man's face. "He left no instructions regarding your apparel, Milady. I can not speak for his personal taste in the matter, but--"

"Let's compromise. Give me clothing such as these women are wearing, and I'll be content." Shock passed over Sulaimon's broad features. The servants giggled at the suggestion. The three of them stared at Aradia. "You would lower yourself to wear the clothing of ajariya ?" Sulaimon asked, his voice rife with disbelief. "A harem servant?" Aradia looked at the long-sleeved, ankle-length, white muslin outfits. Intricate embroidery bordered the sleeves and hems of the long tunic, under which the banded cuffs of muslin pantaloons could be seen. A long white veil hung down their backs. "I don't find their clothing offensive," Aradia said. "I think it's lovely." Sulaimon shook his head. "Lord Jaelan may find it an insult for his wife to go about dressed in such, but if that is your desire, then so be it." He looked at one of the servants. "Fetch the Lady what she wishes." The girl left with her hands clasped at her waist. "You may find the other women will look down upon you for daring to defy the customs of the seraglio," Sulaimon warned. Aradia raised her chin. "Let them. I won't be herded like those other cows. If they dare criticize, I'll remind them to whom I belong." Sulaimon cast a look at the remaining servant and saw she hid a smile. Clucking his tongue, he strode to the door. "I will wait outside. Dress quickly when the clothing comes. Lady Orithia does not like to be kept waiting." Aradia sighed when he left. Her shoulders slumped beneath the confines of the sheet. "I guess you don't have to remove my bedding now, eh?" The servant giggled. "I think not, Mistress." Aradia yawned, and when she did, the notion she had been drugged came back to her. "What was it you gave me to make me sleep?" "Tenerse, Milady. Lord Jaelan's man suggested it." "Oh, he did, did he?" Aradia grumbled. "Sometimes Lord Aluino takes more on himself than he should!" "It was not Lord Aluino, Milady. It was Sir Tarsis who sent word to the Harem Master." A prickle of worry rippled through Aradia. "Why would he do that?" The girl bit her lip, and from the way she would not meet Aradia's gaze, it became obvious she knew more than she could say. "Tell me," Aradia ordered. "It'll go no further than this room." "You will not tell the Harem Master I told you?" "On my honor," Aradia swore, holding up her hand. Moving closer to the bed, the servant lowered her voice. "Lady Saahira is much hated in the harem, Milady," she said, coming closer still. "There are those who would slit her throat, given the chance." Aradia frowned. "I wouldn't mind doing it myself. But what has that to do with me being drugged?" "There are women here who would gladly take the Lady Saahira's place as the Shadowlord's concubine." She lowered her head. "I am among those women, though my position as a lowly slave would never allow me to be considered for such an honor." "Honor? I thought women hated Lord Jaelan...ah...what is your name?"

"Nefousi, and not all woman hate Lord Jaelan. You who belong to him should know why those of us who admire him feel as we do." "Youadmire him?" Aradia said, jealousy poking at her chest. "I still don't understand why--" "When his name is mentioned, Milady, we listen, for the Shadowlord has many enemies in Abbadon." "So Sir Tarsis came looking for Sulaimon and they discussed Lord Jaelan." As the woman shook her head, Aradia began losing patience. "Then who was discussing him?" "Lord Aluino and the Harem Master," Nefousi answered. "The warrior was there at Sir Tarsis bidding to have it explained to you why the Shadowlord would not be coming to you for a few days." "A few days? What do you mean?" "I will tell you if you will lower your voice!" Nefousi hissed, then backed away, no doubt fearful of Aradia's reaction to being spoken to in that way. "Get back here and explain yourself, woman!" Aradia commanded, stabbing a finger at the floor in front of her. Nefousi reluctantly came closer, and when Aradia did not attack her, she whispered, "They punished him for Joining with you and he is will not be able to leave his bed for several days." Aradia's eyes flared. Her heart began to race. "Punished him how?" "As they always punish him, Milady. They sent him to the Temple to be lashed." A jolt went through Aradia and brought back the vivid memories of the day she first saw Jaelan Ben-Ashaman. Her eyes filled with tears. She staggered back to sit on the bed, slumping onto the mattress. She hung her head. "He knew this would happen." "The good news is, the King refused to annul the Joining, even though Lord Gehenna demanded it." Aradia lifted her head. She swiped at the tears on her cheeks. "We are still Joined?" Nefousi nodded. "Lord Jaelan was willing to suffer the lash of the executioner in order to keep you, Milady. But neither he nor Sir Tarsis reckoned on the evil that would accompany it." "Of what evil do you speak?" The other servant returned the room. Over her arm hung an outfit similar to the one she wore. She brought it to the bed and handed it to Nefousi. "This is Daria," Nefousi said. "She is the one who overheard the warrior and the Harem Master. Tell the Lady what was done to the Shadowlord." Daria glanced at the door, then spoke in a voice so low, Aradia had trouble understanding her and asked the girl to repeat what she'd said. "They dipped the barbs of the whip in Maiden's Briar and it has made Lord Jaelan very ill." Aradia knew of the poison. She covered her mouth with a trembling hand. "How ill is he?" "I heard just now that he is delirious with the sickness." Daria looked at Nefousi. "I also heard Lord Gehenna sent that red-haired viper to Lord Jaelan's chambers with a bowl of the brew to rub into his wounds. Thanks be to the Prophet, Sir Tarsis discovered what she was about and kicked her ass back here before she could do her dirty work." "Ah," Nefousi drawled. "Sothat is why the whore came rushing back here as though the hounds of the Abyss were nipping at her filthy heels!" Fear for Jaelan made Aradia shudder. "What are they doing for him?" "There is nothing they can do," Daria said. "Lady, he has the power to overcome this, but it will take time. There is no need to fear for his life, if that is what you are thinking."

"Aye," Nefousi agreed. "He was bitten by a ghoret and survived the strike." Aradia had heard of the poisonous viper and knew no mortal man could live if injected with the venom. That Jaelan had, reassured her. Standing, she threw off the sheet and reached for the pantaloons Nefousi extended toward her. "No one must know of this," Daria warned. "If the Harem Master discovers we told you, we will meet the same fate as the Shadowlord." "Don't worry about me telling anyone." Aradia stepped into the pantaloons, pleased at their comfort as she tied the drawstring at her waist. She took the tunic. "I must speak to my sister and--" "Do not tell her!" Nefousi gasped, pulling the tunic from Aradia's grip. "She hates Lord Jaelan more than Saahira!" "I have no intention of discussing Jaelan with my sister, but I must find out what she intends." Aradia jerked the tunic from Nefousi. "If it is her intent to cause my husband harm, I vow Orithia will remain here the rest of her natural life!"

Chapter 13 He was in agony. His flesh felt as if it were boiling. The poison had spread like wildfire through his body. Though he could not move, he could speak, but his words made no sense to those who tended to him. Spoken in a language none could translate, his rambling, incoherent sentences contained hisses of certain names: Meridia, Gehenna, Jahannum, Saahira. "Those who have hurt him the most," Tarsis mused. Sweat glistened on his face and neck. At times, he opened his eyes to stare helplessly across the room, lost in pain and hovering between consciousness and deep sleep. He gave no outward sign he either understood or was aware of those around him. The high fever cracked his lips, and his breath turned raspy. **** "His body needs to be cooled," Aluino suggested. Tarsis shook his head. "But as I said earlier, we dare not rub the venom into his wounds." "Then take him to the baths and lay him in the water. Would that not wash away some of the poison?" Tarsis thought a moment, then acted, pushing aside Arcan and gently turning Jaelan onto his back. The moment the delirious warrior's glazed eyes widened, Tarsis knew he had caused unspeakable pain. "I am sorry, son, but this may help you." Lifting his charge as tenderly as possible, Tarsis carried him from the chambers, Jubil and Arcan behind, Aluino walking in front to clear the way. Kafele brought up the rear. It took time to traverse the stairs to the second floor. Those they passed stepped aside, fear and respect for the warriors giving them ample room. The baths were full of men laughing and horsing around in the lapping waters. As soon as they saw Tarsis, their joviality stopped. The room became deathly quiet as men climbed out of the pools and wrapped towels around their waists. "How is he?" one of the older Death Lords asked.

Tarsis recognized the man as a friend and stepped into one of the baths. "Has word reached you of what was done at the Temple?" "We know of his punishment." "Do you also know the bastards dipped the barbs of the whip in Maiden's Briar?" Aluino asked. Grumbles of surprise undulated over the men. A few stepped forward to ask why such a thing had been allowed. Tarsis lowered Jaelan into the water. "Think you the King knows of it?" Rashidi Thole, the oldest member of the Tribunal, came to stand by the pool. "The King has been told." He looked at the Shadowlord and shook his head. "This is not the way I ever envisioned becoming Chief Tribunalist." Tarsis looked up sharply. "What of Abasi Ksathra?" "Alas," Rashidi said, "he met with an--accident--while shaving this morn." Since the members of the Tribunal were not allowed to shave their thick beards, Tarsis raised a questioning brow. "A matter of a blade across the throat, if rumor holds true." "Couldn't have happened to a more deserving bastard," Aluino replied. "It doesn't pay to do more harm to the King's man that what is lawfully ordained," Rashidi said. "No doubt Ksathra took it upon himself to lace the water with Maiden's Briar," Tarsis snorted, "so no other criminals will be investigated." Rashidi shrugged. "My guess is there will be no further questioning of the matter." "So Jahannum and his rat-faced sibling Gehenna will bear no censure," Aluino said. "Do they ever?" Jubil asked. "Their day will come," Tarsis said between clenched teeth. **** For a time, the pain in Jaelan's back intensified as warm water washed over him. Sucking in a tortured breath, he nearly slipped into unconscious until the burning sensation lessened. He had no idea what was happening to him, but the lapping waves tickling his cheek brought sensation to his face for the first time in hours. He managed to lick his dry, bleeding lips. As full awareness flowed back to his brain, he became attentive to the words being said around him. He listened in a fog, then began to understand the savagery of his punishment. Though the intense burning had dissipated, a brutal pain still lay like a heavy cloak on his back. The motion of the water rocked one particularly deep gash against Tarsis' bony hip, and the pain grew unbearable. "Hurting me," he croaked, wondering if the old warrior had heard. "Tell me what to do, son," Tarsis replied. "Sit..." Tarsis looked at Aluino. "Let's sit him in the water." The maneuvering almost cost Jaelan consciousness once more, but as soon as he sat in the chest-high water, the pain again lessened. Tarsis sat beside him and pulled Jaelan's head to his shoulder, smoothing back the long, sweat-soaked hair. "Is this too much strain on your back, son?" Tarsis inquired. "No..." He started to ask for water to be poured over his shoulders, but before he could, Aluino and Jubil joined them

in the bath, scooping up water and letting it flow down his ravaged flesh. "Does this help?" Aluino asked. "Aye." For more than an hour, men took turns stepping into the pool and pouring water over the wounds. When Jaelan began to shiver, his teeth clicking together, Tarsis held up a hand. "We need to take you back to bed, Jael. Think you up to it?" "My b...belly is cramping, T...Tarsis..." "It will." Tarsis got clumsily to his feet, his old bones creaking like a windmill. He would have scooped Jaelan from the water, but Aluino waved him aside. "Then be gentle with him, warthog!" "As if I wouldn't!" Aluino grumbled. Gritting his teeth to the return of the pain, but relieved it felt no worse than it had after any of the lashings he'd endured through the years, Jaelan closed his eyes. **** "You prefer that coarse garment to the luxury of silk and suede?" Orithia asked as Aradia joined her in her chambers. "I prefer my own clothes, but I'm told they were destroyed," Aradia snapped. "Warrioress clothing is certainly not something the men of Rysalia want to see on their women." Orithia put a finger to her lip, walked around her sister, looking at the muslin tunic and pantaloons. "I must admit, you look comfortable." "And a lot warmer than wearing transparent silk that leaves nothing to the imagination. Aren't you ashamed of wearing that?" Orithia smiled nastily. "When you have a body as beautiful as mine, why would you be ashamed?" "Morals, perhaps?" "Morals don't always garner a powerful man's notice, Sister, and even when it does, it won't hold his attention for long." She reclined on a lush velvet settee. "Men of authority like their women pliant and rather on the whorish side. Don't you agree?" "I wouldn't know." "Oh, I imagine you do," Orithia said, reaching for a bunch of grapes and plucking one from the stem. "Weren't you thought a whore when you were captive in Diabolusia?" Aradia's jaw clenched, but she refused to take the bait. She sat on an ottoman and regarded her sister. "What is it you hope to accomplish by Joining with the King?" Orithia smiled as she chewed the grape. "Power. Wealth. Position. Influence. All the things a queen who wields control behind the throne can have." "You expect to be in command of King Hasani?" "I do." Aradia clasped her hands around her knees. "And you think he will allow this?" "I know he will." Orithia tossed aside the grapes. "He already does whatever I wish. And when we are legally Joined, I'll have the status that will make it possible for me to rulehim as I see fit." "You have no desire to leave Rysalia? To be rescued?" The smile left Orithia's pretty face. "I'm not stupid, Sister. I know how difficult it will be for you and the others to free

me at present." "The others?" "Phillipa, Euryleia, Okyale. How many more are with you?" Aradia leaned back, her feet leaving the floor. "Would it shock you to know there are no others? That no one will be coming to your aid when you tire of this game of 'Control the King'? That you'll have to remain here for as long as there's life within you?" Orithia fanned away the suggestion. "I know better. My mother will see that I'm returned to Amazeen. I'm a princess--my life is valuable." "Not as valuable as you seem to think, else why has no ransom demand been sent to Amazeen, nor an amount of sovereigns suggested to free you?" A tick formed in Orithia's cheek. "What are you saying?" Aradia unclasped her knees and put her feet on the floor. "You're as much a prisoner here as any of the other women. You, though, will be at the beck and call of that detestable, overweight bully of a King. I have no doubt you'll hold his attention longer than most, for you're unlike any woman he's ever known. He'll tire of you eventually and move on to a younger, more beautiful woman with supple thighs and creamy breasts, and you'll be relegated to the confines of this silken prison along with the others." "That won't happen!" "I came here to help you escape, but I see the futility of trying. Abbadon is a fortress unlike anything I've ever encountered, and getting out will be a thousand times more difficult than getting in." "I'll not spend every day of my life in this miserable hovel!" Orithia said. "I'll make Hasani take me with him when he travels, and he travels often. Do as I command and I'll see that you accompany us. You can get word to Phillipa. With a large enough contingent of warrioresses, we can overpower any Rysalian excuse for a soldier!" "What of the Death Lords?" Aradia inquired. "What will they be doing while their King is trekking about the countryside?" She locked gazes with her sister. "What of the Shadowlord? Do you expect him to sit idly by while you escape?" "Jaelan Ben-Ashaman will meet his fate before the rise of the new moon!" "And how will that be accomplished?" "You really think me a fool, don't you? Why would I tell the wife what I have planned for her malevolent husband?" A vein throbbed in Aradia's head. As her anger rose, her worry over Jaelan grew stronger. "If you think I'll sit back and let you hurt him, you'd best think again,Sister ." "Sulaimon!" Orithia shouted, coming to her feet. "Sulaimon!" The dark man came running. He looked about, as if expecting danger to be lurking from the volume of the Amazeen's shriek. "Take this treacherous bitch back to her quarters and keep her there!" Orithia snarled. "I do not wish to see her ugly face again!" "Enjoy the power while you have it, Orithia," Aradia said as she allowed Sulaimon to grip her forearm. "It won't be yours forever." "No more so than that evil demon will be yours!" Orithia screamed, the force of her fury turning her face into a hideous mask. Sulaimon did not give Aradia a chance to reply. He drew her down the corridor and to her room, his menacing bulk uncompromising. When they gained her chambers, he opened the door and pushed her none-too-gently inside. "You'll not help Lord Jaelan by giving away your intentions to his enemies,anide ."

"Areyou one of his enemies?" Sulaimon glared. "No. Like the Shadowlord, I serve the King." "Then help me. Get word to him for me." "The King?" Sulaimon asked, his brows shooting up. "Aye." "You don't want to do that." "Why?" "He would not see you anyway." "Why?" Aradia repeated. "Nor would Lord Jaelan want you to garner the King's notice." Aradia thought about that for a moment. Jaelan might indeed be furious that she'd dared to seek audience with the King. She bit her lip, then looked beseechingly at Sulaimon. "No," the big man said. "You will stay here and out of the Pale One's notice. For now, she has the ear of the King and her venom is worse than a thousand angry asps." "I came here to help her escape," Aradia confessed, "but now I intend to see she never leaves this place." Sulaimon grinned. "You would have had a hard time helping her leave,anide . Best you realized that before trouble brewed." "It wasn't the trouble that concerned me," Aradia said, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "I am Amazeen, and my allegiance is to my tribe, but..." She raised her chin. "When one of my tribe is threatened through no fault of her own, that allegiance can be put aside without regret." "Is not the Pale One one of your own,anide ?" "Not any more. She wants wealth and power, position and authority. In Amazeen, she would have risen to the position of domestic queen, but that wasn't enough for her. Here, she thinks to rule an entire people." Sulaimon shook his head. "That will not happen, but allow her to have her fanciful dream. The paying for it might prove to be costlier than she realizes."

PART II Chapter 1 Jaelan opened his eyes on the fifth day of his recuperation and wished he could fall back into the unfeeling depths

of sleep. His back burned, and when he moved, the wounds opened and oozed liquid that gave off an unpleasant odor. Trying to lever up his body proved to be far too difficult, so he collapsed on the mattress and tried calling for help with his raspy voice. "I am here, Milord." Kafele rushed to the bed. "What do you need?" "Get...up." "I am not sure Sir Tarsis--" "Get up," Jaelan insisted and tried to rise. Kafele pulled the cover from Jaelan's legs. Carefully, he put his hands on Jaelan's shoulders and helped him lift to his knees. "Now that's a sight," Tarsis joked from the doorway. "Seeing the great and powerful Shadowlord with his bare arse in the air is too much for these eyes." "Leave me alone, you ugly gnome," Jaelan grumbled. He managed to shift his right leg from the bed, his toes just reaching the floor as he moved toward the edge of the mattress. "He's feeling better," Aluino quipped. Jaelan sucked in his breath as he dragged his left leg from the bed and gained his feet. He stood, wobbly-kneed and dizzy, and had no choice but to sit down else he knew he'd fall on his face. "What exactly are you trying to accomplish?" Tarsis inquired, strolling to the bed. "I have to piss," Jaelan snapped. "Is that all right with you?" "And you were too proud to ask for a chamber pot?" "I need to get up. I need to regain my strength." "True, but another day or two in bed--" Jaelan shook his head, then wished he hadn't. Sour bile rose in his throat. He realized the burning pain in his back would have a friend in a brutal headache, already flashing at the edges of his vision. "No bed, eh?" Aluino sighed. He looked at Tarsis. "My guess is he was going to slither down to the seraglio and fetch the winsome Aradia." "Want my wife," Jaelan declared in the tone of a petulant child. Again, he stood. He swallowed the fluid flooding his mouth and took a step, cringing as the gashes crisscrossing his back came to vivid, brutal life. Aluino chuckled. "Big, bad Shadowlord. Gonna stride across the room to--" "Beat your ass," Jaelan growled, glaring at his friend. "Tell Sulaimon to have the Lady Aradia ready for her husband," Tarsis instructed Aluino. When the Diabolusian made to protest, the old warrior raised a warning hand. "Do as I say, warthog." Aluino snapped his mouth shut. He took one look at Jaelan, cautiously making his way toward the bathing chamber, and shrugged. Kafele walked beside his new master in case he needed assistance. Halfway across the room, Jaelan stopped and turned. "Who are you?" "Kafele, Your Grace," the servant replied. "Sir Tarsis has employed me as your helper." Tarsis winced, and when Jaelan turned a baleful eye to the retired warrior, he merely sighed. "You don't have a valet, so consider Kaffie as such." "Kaffie," Jaelan repeated. His shoulders slumped in defeat, for he knew it would do no good to argue with Tarsis.

"Don't need a prophets-be-damned valet." "Then consider me a friend, Your Grace," Kafele suggested. Jaelan inspected the servant and saw no duplicative gleam in the young man's eye. About the same age as the Shadowlord, he bravely met the steady gaze of his master without cringing. Jaelan liked that. "I'm having trouble walking, friend Kaffie. May I lean on you?" Kafele nodded and braced himself as Jaelan placed a heavy grip on his shoulder. Tarsis put the palm of his hand to his only ear and slapped it a few times. "Did I hear Jaelan Ben-Ashaman asking for help?" "I'm hungry, old man," Jaelan said, reaching the bathing chamber door. "Make yourself useful and have food brought." "No amount of food is going to put the steel in your shaft if you're thinking to do a little slap and tickle with the lass." "Go away!" Jaelan released Kafele's shoulder. He weaved his way into the bathing room and slammed the door in the servant's face. Kafele looked at Tarsis. "He'll be all right," Tarsis assured. "Ask the cook to prepare broth and hot coffee, perhaps some pudding. Don't bring back anything he'll need to poop out any time soon. Sitting ain't going to be something he's going to want to do for a while, whether he realizes it or not. Understand?" "Aye, Sir Tarsis." Kafele hurried to do the warrior's bidding. Tarsis walked to the door and tapped lightly. "You alive, boy?" "Aye," came the muffled reply. "Need help?" "Not from you." Tarsis grinned. "Need anything?" "Your head on a pike?" Jaelan grumbled. "Ain't gonna happen." When the door opened, Tarsis looked into the pain-glazed eyes of his former pupil "Bad, is it, son?" "I feel as though I'm lying on a bed of red-hot coals." "You still determined to walk down to the seraglio and bring back the Lady?" Tarsis asked, worry rife in his husky voice. "I need her." Jaelan met his mentor's steady gaze. "I'll feel better with her here." Tarsis nodded. "I could fetch her myself." "It ismy duty," Jaelan said, moving into the room. He gripped Tarsis' shoulder to steady himself. "I've left her there too long as it is." "She'll understand." "Help me get dressed." The old warrior looked at his naked protégé. "I rather like the idea of you striding about the halls of Abbadon in all your bare-arse glory." He winked. "Gehenna and Jahannum would appreciate the sight."

Jaelan smiled for the first time in nearly a week. When he looked at the leather britches and black silk shirt Tarsis plucked from the closet, he shuddered. "There's no way in hell I can put those on." "You want yourizars ?" Jaelan thought of the close-fitting loincloth that wrapped around the waist and between the legs. "I can't abide thinking of being bound in any way." Tarsis understood and reached for a long, straight-cut, black cotton robe only Shadowlords were allowed to wear. He bunched it up, then eased it over Jaelan's head, holding his breath as the Shadowlord lifted his arms to thrust them through the scarlet-banded embroidered sleeves. Jaelan gasped as the lightweight robe settled on his back. "Do I have any flesh left?" "Precious little that isn't a roadmap of scars, son." After gathering his strength, Jaelan sat carefully at the table, keeping his back ramrod straight. Though hungry, he doubted what he craved would be put before him. "So, it was Maiden's Briar?" Tarsis cocked his head. "You were aware enough to hear us talking?" "I couldn't move...but I was aware." "I feared as much." Jaelan glanced at the door as Kafele returned with a tray. He frowned at the meager variety. Though he sighed, he did not protest. He drained the cup of broth, then scraped the bowl of pudding until Tarsis bid him stop. He finished with the hot, steaming coffee, wishing he had more. "Keep that down and I'll have mutton and squash prepared for the evening meal," Tarsis said. "You want your sandals?" "I want to feel the cold stone against my feet," Jaelan replied, standing. Aluino returned and leaned with his arms folded against the doorjamb. "The robe's a good idea." "Hides his dangly, at any rate," Tarsis said. "Don't be here when I return," Jaelan ordered. "You mean we can't watch you fumbling around with the pretty Amazeen?" Aluino joked. "Leave," Jaelan said between clenched teeth. "Now." Tarsis motioned Kafele to join him, and the three men moved into the hall. The old warrior looked at Jaelan. "If you need us, will you send the Lady?" Jaelan didn't reply. He just looked at Tarsis, who shook his head. He watched until they turned the bend in the corridor and disappeared from sight. Leaning his head against the cool door panel, Jaelan closed his eyes and willed the agonizing pain to subside. Fever still rode him like a brutal master, and even though the lightweight robe billowed around him, it added to the heat being generated by the poison pulsing through his system. His headache had grown worse; bright squiggles of light lurked at the corner of his vision. With a long, weary sigh, he lifted his sweating head and started down the corridor. **** Aradia looked up from a book as Sulaimon entered her chambers. His broad ebony face looked stern, so she laid aside the tome. "His Grace the Shadowlord has sent word he is coming for you," he stated in his deep bass. "You will ready yourself to accompany him." After jumping to her feet, Aradia rushed to him. "He is better?"

Sulaimon inclined his head. "It would appear so, Milady." He looked her up and down, and the frown on his face grew harsher. "He will not approve of the way you are dressed." "He'd not want me parading around outside the walls in that transparent gauze, either." Sulaimon pursed his lips. "Perhaps not. Lord Jaelan is a private man. He--" A bell sounded deep in the recesses of the seraglio. The Harem Master bowed his head. "Your husband has arrived, Milady." He swept a hand toward the door. Her heart racing, Aradia hurried toward the door, only to be brought up short by the gruff clearing of Sulaimon's throat. She turned. "Remember your husband's status at Abbadon, Milady. He is greatly feared and rightly so. It would not do for you to fling yourself into his arms, for it would embarrass him." "I understand." Aradia made to keep walking, but when Sulaimon again cleared his throat, she stopped, put her hands on her hips, and lowered her head in exasperation. "What else?" "Walk behind him, not at his side. Show him respect and defer to him at all times when in the public eye. Make no comment on his condition until you are in the privacy of his chambers." "His condition?" Sulaimon rolled his eyes. "Think you I do not know what that gossiping birdling Nefousi told you regarding what occurred at the Temple? She may think she hides her tattling from me, but she does not. Every woman here is aware of what happened to the Shadowlord." "And what do they say of it?" He shrugged. "Some think he deserves any pain that comes his way, but there are those who believe his sacrifice is most romantic." Aradia stared into his eyes. "What do you think, Sulaimon?" "I think a man who would bare his back to the executioner's lash to keep the woman he has chosen, is a man to be admired, Milady." Once more the bell sounded. Sulaimon hissed beneath his breath. "We are keeping that man waiting, and that is not good! Come, Lady!" He fanned his hand at Aradia, motioning her to hurry. The closer she got to the thick doors, the more nervous she became. Her palms oozed sweat, and her heart pounded. She schooled her features not to show the excitement racing through her, but she knew she'd never be able to hide her thoughts from the Shadowlord. As the doors opened, Aradia came to a stop, holding her breath, biting her lip, her hands clasped in front of her. When she saw Jaelan, his face impassive, his eyes boring into hers, she felt weak in the knees. Sulaimon put a hand on her back and pushed her toward her husband. "Bow your head," he urgently whispered. Aradia didn't question the command. She lowered her head as she came to stand before Jaelan. "You are well, Milady?" he asked, cupping her chin with his hand and lifting her head. Though otherwise pale, his cheeks looked flushed, and a fine sheen of sweat dotted his face. Aradia saw pain glazing his topaz eyes, and it hurt her to the core of her being. Her bottom lip trembled. When he smoothed his thumb over her mouth, tears brightened her eyes. "I am well, Milord." She felt the heat of his high fever along his dry palm. Her gaze searched his. She started to ask

how he fared, but he shook his head. "Are you ready to leave this place?" he asked. "Aye, Milord!" His lips twitched. "Harem Master, you have my appreciation for caring so well for my lady-wife." Sulaimon made the sign of obeisance, swirling his index finger from forehead to chest. "It was my honor to attend Her Grace, Lord Jaelan." Jaelan swept his scrutiny down his wife's attire, then locked eyes with her. "You look comfortable, Milady. The garments become you." Aradia cast Sulaimon a knowing look and grinned. "Iam comfortable, Milord, and I am glad you approve." Jaelan took her hand and pulled her closer. Lowering his head, he brushed his lips against her ear. "Gloating does not become you,aziza . Behave." Gripping her husband's strong fingers, she reveled in the look he gave her as he stepped back, drawing her with him. He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. "You will walk beside me, Lady?" Aradia giggled. "Should I not walk behind you, Your Grace?" "Never." He looked at Sulaimon and shocked the dark man by winking. **** As the Shadowlord and his Lady meandered down the corridor, the Harem Master stood watching with two seraglio guards. "He walks slowly," one guard remarked. "Aye, but neither you nor I would be up and about this soon after such an ordeal," Sulaimon said. "He is not human," the other guard said. Jaelan Ben-Ashaman stopped at the end of the long corridor. For a moment, he looked back at the men before escorting his lady out of sight. "No," Sulaimon said with a shudder, "he is not."

Chapter 2 He held her hand, the grip growing more painful with each step they climbed. Aradia made no protest, though his strong grasp crushed her fingers. She sensed how hard it was for him as he strained going up the stairs. He sucked in each breath through his nose, his jaws clenched. "You know what happened at the Temple?" he said, his words raspy. "Aye."

"I am ill,aziza . My head is nigh to exploding." She reached out to bid him stop. When he did, she placed her hand against his cheek. He pressed his face against her palm, and the tears she had tried so hard to keep at bay spilled over her lashes. "I don't know how much longer...I can stay conscious." He hunkered on the stairs, gasping in agony. She knelt beside him. "Tell me what to do, beloved." The word brought up his head. He searched her eyes and delved lightly into her thoughts. What he found brought a quiver to his lips. "One more...flight up. Tarsis and Aluino...will be there." Aradia took the stairs two at a time, grateful more than ever for the pantaloons that allowed her freedom of movement. Warriors gaped as she ran down the corridor, calling for Sir Tarsis and Lord Aluino. "'Lui! 'Lui!" several men shouted. One hurried to the Diabolusian's door and banged. "What the hell is all the commotion?" Aluino bellowed as he threw open his chamber door. When he saw Aradia racing toward him, his eyes widened. "What's wrong?" "Come, warrior!" She grabbed his arm. "Where is he?" he asked, shaking free of her punishing grip. "On the stairs. He has one of his headaches." Aluino cursed and rushed ahead of her, shooting down the stairs. By the time Aradia reached them, Aluino had the Shadowlord in his arms, climbing the steps. "Run ahead, wench," Aluino ordered, shifting an unconscious Jaelan higher in his grasp. "His room has the black doors. Go into the bathing chamber. You'll find a clearly marked bottle of tenerse in the cabinet." "Shouldn't we ask a Healer if--" "Jaelan would turn me inside out if I sent for one. Do as I say. The tenerse will help the headache and the pain in his back." By the time Aluino brought Jaelan's limp body into the room, Aradia stood beside the bed. With the servant, Kafele's, help, they had turned back the covers, plumped the pillows, and lit a scented candle on the table, beside which she had placed the bottle of medicine. "There won't be any seduction done here tonight," Aluino snorted as he laid Jaelan on the bed and turned him onto his belly. The Shadowlord's long brown hair fanned the pillow. Aluino drew a limp strand from Jaelan's damp face. "What can I do?" Kafele asked. "Get a blade and let's cut away the robe." Aluino ran a hand through his thick black curls. "I'm getting tired of cutting off this slacker's clothing." "Then give me the blade and I'll do it!" Aradia snapped and reached for the blade Kafele held toward Aluino. The warrior batted away her hand. "Get out of here, wench." Aradia's chin lifted. "This is my chamber, too, you revolting greaser! I will stay!" Kafele moved to the bed to do the job himself. Starting at the hem, he eased the cutting edge carefully upward, the sharp blade slicing effortlessly through the fabric. "Make yourself useful and get a basin of water," Aluino ordered Aradia. "You can't wash his back! You'll rub the Maiden's Briar into--"

"To cool his face, arms, and legs, you stupid cow. He's burning up with fever." He took a menacing step toward her. "Do what I told you!" Aradia's eyes narrowed, but she spun on her heel and marched into the bathing chamber. Her face burned when she overheard Aluino tell the servant that you had to keep a woman in her place in order to maintain peace. "Peace, my ass!" She poured water into a basin, found a soft cloth, and dropped it into the liquid. Spying the chamber pot, she was tempted to fill it and throw it into the Diabolusian's smirking face. "But it wouldn't contain water if I did," she grumbled. Aluino barely glanced up when she returned. "I shouldn't have spoken to you in that way." "No, you should not have!" "Jaelan will not be pleased that I did, Lady." Aluino ducked his head. "I offer you my apology." Aradia sniffed. "You're worried about your friend and that's understandable. I don't forgive you, but neither will I hold it against you." Aluino sighed. "That's better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick, I suppose." "Or a face full of piss," she mumbled, handing him the basin. Kafele heard the remark and smiled. He severed the robe to the neckline, taking his time, obviously fearful of material being stuck to the Shadowlord's back. He started to work on the right sleeve. "You're being very gentle with my husband, Kaffie," Aradia said. "I appreciate your help." The servant blushed as he headed to the other side of the bed. "It is my honor to care for the Shadowlord, Your Grace." Aluino reached for the section of severed material closest to him and frowned. "Damn!" "What?" Aradia asked. "The garment's stuck to his flesh." Aluino tried easing it away from the skin, but snatched away his hand when Jaelan groaned. "Move aside, warrior," Aradia ordered. After pushing him away, she took a deep breath and grasped the two sections of neckline. She waited until Kafele had finished severing the material of the left sleeve, then jerked the sections apart. Jaelan's eyes flew open. A hard shudder rippled down his body. His gasp of pain as his fingers dug into the pillow stopped Aradia's breath. His chest arched from the mattress, his arms went rigid, then he collapsed with a whimper. A blush of shame crept into his sweaty face. Another shudder gripped him and he squeezed his eyes shut. "By the Prophet that hurt, 'Lui..." Aradia stared in horror at the destruction of her husband's back. Though she'd seen similar marks on him in Diabolusia, that had been long ago, and there had been no connection between her and the grimy, emaciated man whose life she had saved. Now, a connection existed, one that grew deeper by the minute. Seeing what had been done to him because of her drove Aradia to her knees. She covered her face with her hands and wept. Aluino hunkered beside her, putting a supportive arm around her shoulders. "Lady, you did what I could not. You did whathad to be done." Overcome with guilt, she rocked back and forth. "I hurt him..." "Aradia," Jaelan whispered. She raised her head and saw a gentle smile on her husband's face. "Come lie beside me." She frantically shook her head. "No, warrior. No!"

He sighed. " 'Lui, pick her up and deposit her by me." The Diabolusian grinned. "With pleasure,amigo ." Chuckling, he started to scoop Aradia from where she knelt. She scampered out of his reach, warding him off with an outstretched arm and casting him a dangerous look. "Keep your greasy hands to yourself, warthog!" Aluino looked at his palms, then held them out to her. "They're not greasy, wench. I washed them this morning," he said in a voice that pretended hurt. "Come lie beside me," Jaelan repeated. "I need you, Lady." Cautiously, she climbed on the wide mattress and sat facing her husband. Aluino grabbed the medicine bottle from the table and a nearby crystal tumbler of water. Uncorking the bottle, he poured a liberal amount of the cherry-colored liquid into the glass, then opened the drawer of the night table and withdrew a small dried reed. He stuck the reed into the liquid, swirled it, then extended the tumbler toward Aradia. "Give him this." Aradia took the glass. "Are you sure it's safe for him?" "It's all right," Jaelan whispered. She held the hollow reed to her husband's lips. He sucked in the liquid. His grimace left no doubt the brew tasted as unpalatable as it appeared. When he consumed the potion, he settled down and closed his eyes. "He'll sleep for a few hours," Aluino said, taking the empty glass from Aradia. "Should you need us, Kaffie and I will be down the corridor in the receiving room." "Where's Tarsis?" Jaelan asked, his words slurring. "He's sleeping, Jael," Aluino replied. "He was up all night with you." "Um..." Jaelan lifted his left arm. "Come here, wench." Aradia warily moved closer to her husband, fearful of causing him discomfort. Ducking under his arm, she settled as closely to him as she thought advisable. Apparently he thought it not close enough, for he hooked his hand around her waist and drew her to him, enclosing her in a tight embrace. "You'll hurt yourself!" she warned. "Don't feel...a damned thing..." He rested his forehead against hers. "Now...I can sleep." With that, he was lost to the world. **** By the time Aradia stirred again, night had fallen. When her eyelids fluttered open, she found herself on her side, looking into her husband's still face. She exhaled softly, concerned she would wake him. His arm was still draped over her, and the heat from his touch alarmed her. From what little she could see of his back, the flesh looked bright red, oozing, giving off a stench almost as bad as a decomposing body. "It burns," he said without opening his eyes. "What can I do?" she asked, touching his sweaty arm. "I wish I were in Virago, standing naked in the snow." "You've been to Virago?" "Once, a long time ago." He opened his eyes. "Wish I were there again." "Would lying in a tub of cold water help?"

He frowned. "Tarsis took me to the baths, but that warm water hurt like hell." "I imagine, but don't you think cold water would soothe?" "Wouldn't hurt any more than it already does." Gently, she removed his arm from around her and got out of bed. "I'll send Kafele for cool water from the fortress' spring." "No,aziza . Too much trouble. I can walk to the lower level. There's a room in the dungeon where cold water--" "The hell you will!" Not giving him a chance to protest, she left the room, her jaw and fists clenched. "Aradia!" he bellowed. She came to an abrupt stop, then turned, stunned to see him limping toward her. Her eyes dropped to the cloth wrapped around his hips, relieved to see he'd covered his privates. When she opened her mouth to order him back to bed, Jaelan shushed her with a stern look. He took her hand and started toward the door. "You areanide ," she told him. "It's easier going down the stairs than up. Humor me." Refusing to comment on the obvious untruth, she walked beside him, her hand aching from his pressure. The few people they passed bowed respectfully to him, then turned away, their faces showing their embarrassment. "Rysalian warriors don't parade around in theirizars ," he explained, then clarified. "Loincloths." "Are you going to get into further trouble because you're doing it?" "Doubtful. The Tribunal will send a letter of protest which the king will read, laugh over, then tear up." A malevolent aura weighed heavily on Aradia's shoulders when they reach the dismal and dark lower level of Abbadon. The foreboding place made her skin crawl as though infested with vermin. The deeper they went into the bowels of the fortress, the more unsettled she became. "This is an evil place, warrior," she whispered. "Demons reign here." He led her to a room cast in deep shadows. Burning rushes did nothing to alleviate the despair saturating the atmosphere. A brisk draft shifted arond the black stone walls. In the center of the floor, a square opening filled with water looked as black as the walls. "What do they do here?" Aradia asked. "Torture people." She looked into the dark water. "How?" "The water is ice-cold,aziza ." He pointed to a vat. "Over there is a cauldron where they heat water to boiling. Up there is the means for moving a victim between one place of torment to another." Aradia saw a system of pulleys and a sling into which she could imagine some unlucky man would be strapped before being lowered into the extreme temperatures. She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. Jaelan eased himself down at the side of the pool, drawing in a shocked breath as his toes disappeared in the water. "By the Prophet, but this water has nothing on the lakes of Virago." Before Aradia could ask why he had traveled to that frigid North Country, her husband slid into the water, sucking in a breath loud enough to echo through the room. She squatted at the edge and put her fingers in the water. Her eyes widened. "How can you stand that?"

"It's not so bad once you get used to it," he said, though his teeth chattered as he went lower. His soft "ahh" said the water had doused the fire in his back. Seating himself on the middle step, the water covered his shoulders. "How deep is it?" she asked. "Eight feet, maybe." He frowned when she stood. "Where are you going, Lady?" "No where." She slid out of her pantaloons, then stepped into the water. As the water lapped up her calves, she gasped, making him chuckle. "Beast." "That I am," he replied with a leer. She sat beside him, their knees touching. "You're right. It's not so bad. Is it helping you?" He looked down at her muslin tunic, now soaked through. The dark aureoles of her breasts appeared behind the clinging fabric. The shape and size of her breasts seemed to mesmerized him. "Warrior?" Slowly, his gaze lifted to hers. "You are beautiful." She shrugged. Jaelan swallowed, then lifted his hand to touch her cheek. "I had wanted our first night here to be special." He caressed her. "A man does not want to bring his bride to a hellhole such as this, then leave her wondering if he'll return." "I understood, Milord." "I know you did, but it doesn't erase the memories you'll have of it." His face took on the look of a man who knew helplessness. "I had wanted to lie with you in our own bed. To have you get to know me. To make love to you. To--" "There will be time for all that, beloved." Aradia eased off the step and knelt between his spread legs, the water gently lapping around them. She cupped his face in her hands, then brought his lips to hers. Her mouth moved over his, her tongue slipping between his lips to plunder. When she drew back, she saw passion had turned his amber eyes a rich, tawny brown. His hands clasped her shoulders as they stared at one another. The look of need on his handsome face made her smile. She slid her palms down his heavily muscled chest to the tops of his thighs. His muscles tensed. As she arched her questing hands down the insides of those taut thighs, she heard him draw a shuddery breath. When her fingers snaked toward his groin, the nails sliding under theizars to lightly touch his scrotum, he jerked her to him, his mouth brutally slanting down to cover hers. Aradia felt the white-hot stab of arousal quiver in her belly as he kissed her. With her arms trapped between them, her fingertips pressed along the ridges of his heavy sac, she realized he trembled. Pulling away from his insistent mouth, ignoring his grunt of frustration, she slid her hands beneath the leg openings of theizars . What filled her palm made her grin wickedly. "MyHeh-Matsimela ," she whispered huskily. Jaelan stared at her, his face turning as red as the wounds on his back. "Where did you hear...?" He got no further, for she boldly caressed him, running the tips of her nails over the head of his throbbing shaft. Jaelan was as hard as he could ever remember being. Not even as a young boy striding unsure and untried into manhood had he known such a strong erection, such a burgeoning desire. "You don't need this," she said. Before he could stop her, she unwound and peeled apart the two sides of theizars , exposing him to her conquering hands.

Her touch was as gentle as a butterfly's wings, yet as firm as a swordsman's grip. She encircled his turgid flesh, alternating hands as she pulled his flesh. She gingerly twisted, moving her hand upward, then her fingers traveled from the swollen head to the base of his member. Her palm circled the tip of him, then a delicate fingernail teased the oozing slit. "Aradia," he breathed, panting from the emotions ripping through him. He closed his eyes, giving himself up to the pleasure he had heard other men describe but had never known in his resentful couplings with Saahira. "I can't...I'm not..." "Shush..." Jaelan's eyelids flew open when he felt her teeth graze the sensitive underside of his crown. Her long brown hair floated on the water's surface when she dunked her head beneath the waves. Her mouth engulfed him, sucking, her tongue swirling. Her hands kneaded his balls, the nails dragging beneath his stem. He moaned, burying his hands in her hair. One moment he was straining for the release he knew would be the closest he'd ever come to heaven, and the next he was throwing back his head, yowling with a climax that shook him to the core. Limp, his breath ragged, he became barely aware of Aradia rising from the water. She raked hands through her hair pressed tightly to her scalp. His attention locked on her breasts, the swollen nipples pressed against the wet fabric. He could no more have stopped himself from capturing those firm mounds than he could deny the sun its rising at dawn. In bliss, he molded her, sawed his thumbs across the nipples, then plucked at the turgid flesh. "Beautiful," he whispered. "So..." A boot scraping against the flooring separated the husband and wife as though they were randy teenagers caught by an incensed parent. Both turned guilty eyes to the doorway. "Is he hurting you?" Tarsis asked Aradia, his lips twitching beneath the shaggy beard. "Not so much as before," she answered. "You saw to his discomfort, did you?" "I believe I had everything well in hand, aye." "And I bet those hands were full," the warrior teased. "Did he acquit himself reasonably well?" "Tarsis," Jaelan said in warning. Aradia smiled. "I must report, Milord Jaelan rose staunchly to the occasion." "Stop it," Jaelan snapped. "The both of you." "Are we embarrassing you, brat?" Tarsis gave Aradia an innocent look. "He can be such a little squirt, you know?" "I wouldn't say that, Milord. He filled my..." "Stop!"Jaelan shouted. "Not another word out of either of you!" "I didn't hear you, brat," Tarsis said, slapping at his one ear. "Come again?" "Get the hell out of here, Tarsis!" The warrior tsked, shook his head, then threw up his hands. "You don't have to drill home the point, boy. I heard you the first time." Aradia started to counter the old warrior's barb, but Jaelan's glower made her snap her mouth shut. She pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. "It was nice meeting you, Your Grace," Tarsis said, bowing to Aradia. "I'm relieved to know you care for this young jackass."

"Not as relieved as he is," she muttered. Tarsis' laughter boomed from his barrel chest. He held out a hand in farewell. "Send two robes back by Kaffie," Jaelan ordered. Tarsis didn't turn, but acknowledged the order with a nod. "I think he and I are going to be good friends," Aradia commented. "Wench." Jaelan speared her with an angry look. Aradia wiped the grin from her face. She wondered if she'd gone too far with the old warrior and caused her husband embarrassment. "Milord?" "Stand up." Her brows drawn together, Aradia got to her feet. "Did he teach you that?" Jaelan demanded. "Who?" she asked, then realized whom he meant. "No." "Who did?" "Women talk, warrior. Just as men do." "No woman taught you how to use your mouth to such advantage." His stony stare annoyed her. "Why are you asking me this? You possess me as no man ever has or ever will, yet you don't trust me?" "I have yet to do any possessing, except in my dreams." "Yet you do not trust me." "I did not say that." She put her hands on her hips. "What does that red-haired witch do for you?" Jaelan waved a dismissive hand. "That is neither here nor--" "Answer me!" she demanded in a tone that caused him to raise his eyebrows. For a long moment, he simply stared at her, then shrugged indifferently. "She would come into my quarters with an expression that said she was about to be made to drink a bitter brew. She'd take off her clothes, lie on the bed, and part her legs. She stared at the ceiling, her arms straight at her side." "What did you do?" "Free my cock, climb atop her, and get rid of the tension." Aradia blinked. "That's it? That's all she did?" "As for as I know, that's all she's capable of doing, at least with me. I didn't care enough to read her thoughts, but it didn't take the abilities of a Shadowlord to know she was enduring it only because she'd been ordered to do so." "There was no kissing, no--" "I'd rather put my lips on the ass of a Diabolusian warthog than kiss that venomous bitch." "You didn't caress her?"

"I had no desire for her, wench. She was a means to an end and that was all. Mating with her was no different than squirting my seed into the chamber pot." Aradia's blush amused him. He reached out for her, drawing her between his legs. "On the other hand," he said, moving his hands up and down her arms, "I'll take great delight in making love to you." "When you're able." He slid his hands to her hips and bunched the wet tunic up her legs in slow increments. "What are you about, warrior?" "Turnabout is fair play." "W...what do you mean?" His hands gently kneaded her bare thighs. When she repeated her question in a whisper, he shushed her and moved one hand behind her, cupping her right buttock. The other hand he slid between her legs. She sighed as he rubbed her, the heat of his palm against her nether lips an exquisite torment. "You are wet, Milady," he cooed. She gasped as his middle finger slid possessively inside her. Her groan caused Jaelan to harden. He thrust his finger deeper inside Aradia's slick warmth and watched as she closed her eyes, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. With infinite care and steady deliberation, he thumbed the hardened pearl nestled in the wiry curls of her vagina. Alternately drawing his middle finger from her womanhood and circling the fleshy triangle that brought panting to accompany her whimpers of pleasure, then pressing into her once more, he felt the tension building within her. She gripped his hair and pulled his mouth to her chest. Through the wet fabric, he found one turgid nipple and claimed it with his teeth. The muscles of her vagina began to spasm, quickening around his questing finger like a moth fluttering at the globe of a candelabra. Jaelan folded his bride to him, her hands on his naked chest, and lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss was all either of them knew until he drew back, his eyes searching hers. "I love you," she said, touching his cheek. He smiled, then eased her away so he could stand. Though his back no longer burned, he felt the lash marks and longed for sleep. He took her hand in his and led her out of the water, asking her to retrieve the robes he saw lying in the doorway. Kaffie must have brought them during their lovemaking. "Is the pain better, Milord?" Aradia asked. "Aye," he answered, amused that she seemed to be studiously avoiding looking at his naked body. She helped him into his robe. "Perhaps you will sleep easier." He nodded. "With you beside me, I can." They walked hand in hand back to his quarters, and when the Shadowlord closed the door, two Death Lords moved out of the darkness to stand guard. **** As Jaelan and his lady slept, his enemies plotted. Jahannum sent for his brother, and Gehenna, in turn, sent for the Amazeen princess, careful the summons did not reach the King's ear. Orithia brought her new accomplice, Saahira, to the meeting.

Chapter 3 "It was Gehenna's doing," Jaelan explained the next morning as he lay on his belly, his head turned toward his bride. "He didn't intend for me to come back from Diabolusia...at least not alive." Aradia had wanted to know how the warrior had wound up a slave in the mines at Amberino. "He had you sent there?" "He had me abducted from Tempest Keep in Virago." "What were you doing there?" "I'd gone to protect my King. Hasani was to sign a trade agreement with the Hesar clan, but when I came up missing, he blamed the Viragonians and went home under heavy guard. The pact was never signed." "Why would he blame the Viragonians?" "There'd been some discussion about allowing me to accompany the King. They didn't mind him bringing a personal guard, but the Hesars are a strange bunch...they allow no magic-sayers at the Court of the Storms. Hasani insisted and they grudgingly allowed me to come with him. But I was told I couldn't venture inside the Court. That didn't bother me, because it was snowing when we arrived, and I'd never seen snow. It fascinated me. I spent most of the day walking around, catching flakes on my tongue." Aradia grinned, imagining her serious husband frolicking in snow. "I was told that Lake Gundersen was beautiful that time of year, that peasants would be skating there. I'd no idea what skating was, and when they explained it to me, I thought they were teasing. I couldn't believe people could actually walk on the water, so I went there to see for myself." He frowned. "I had no idea I was being followed." "You sensed no danger?" "The four men trailing me had been given circlets of iron to wear beneath their hoods. The iron blocked their thoughts." "I'll have to remember that," she teased and smiled at his snort. "Snow is beautiful, isn't it?" "You've seen it?" he asked, surprised. "When?" "When I was ten or so. We were on our way to Odess and our ship was blown off course during one of their damnable storms. They were hospitable enough, but we were always on guard." "You went to the Court?" "As Defense Queen, my mother was invited as a guest of King Broeland's. I, too, got to see skaters on Lake Gundersen." "A most remarkable sight..." "So what happened next?" "Not used to frigid weather, I got cold," he said. "I started looking for a tavern and found one a quarter of a mile from the lake. I went in and ordered coffee." He stopped when her smile widened. "Aye, they'd never heard of such a thing, but the innkeeper said if I wanted something warm, he'd bring hot buttered rum."

"Oh, my..." "I saw the four men enter the tavern, but I paid them no mind since I 'picked up' no danger from them. One spoke to the innkeeper, but I had no reason to think anything of it. When the owner brought me the drink, he set down the mug, then left without asking for money. I thought that strange, but the aroma coming from the mug was so enticing, I was more interested in that." "Oh, warrior!" "As you can surmise, there was more than just butter and rum in the Prophet-be-damned thing. At first I thought it was the liquor's potency that made me light-headed. I kicked myself for having slurped it like a green youth. But then my tongue went numb, and the lights dimmed. When the men got up from their table and headed toward me, I knew I'd made a mistake." He shifted to a more comfortable position. "I began praying it wasn't a fatal mistake." "So you wound up in Diabolusia." "Shackled like one of the tomb-builder's slaves. I fought like a weretiger, but I had no power because of the iron bands on my wrists. Although I gave one man a broken jaw and knocked the front teeth from another, I was taken into the mine and put to work." "How long were you there before we met?" He cupped her cheek. "The luckiest day of my life,aziza ." "Mine, too." Jaelan's heart thudded. Looking into his bride's eyes, he knew she told the truth. He brought his fingers to his lips, kissed them, then placed the tips against her mouth. "Four years of hell stopped for me that day." She took his hand and held it to her chest. "Glad to have been of service, Milord." He lightly scratched his nails along the hollow of her throat. "Was King Hasani looking for you during that time?" she asked. "He thought I was dead. That was one of the reasons he didn't sign the trade agreement. He also thought the Viragonians were lying. He may be many things, but a liar he is not, and cannot abide it in others." "So he was pleasantly surprised when you returned from the dead?" "I sent word I was among the living when I reached Odess so I wouldn't scare the hell out of King Hasani or Tarsis when I reappeared. 'Lui was with me. When we were ten miles from Abbadon, a column of Death Lords in full battle armor approached, led by Tarsis. I thought the old man was going to break my ribs, he hugged me so tightly." She grinned. "Did the King give you a hug, too, warrior?" "Aye, then ordered a national holiday and gave me a hundred acres of land just outside Basaraba for when I retire." "You didn't want land in Uadjit?" she teased. He rolled his eyes. "No more than the rotting pecker disease." She giggled, then frowned as a thought came to her. "Why didn't the King punish Gehenna for what he'd done?" "I couldn't prove it was Gehenna. But no one hated me--hatesme--as much as he and his foul brother." "Not even the people of Uadjit?" "Where would they get money to hire abductors? No, it was Gehenna, and he as much as admitted it about a week after I returned." "What did he say?"

Jaelan's eyes turned cold. "He asked if I'd enjoyed my stay in Diabolusia. He said it was a shame I'd not ventured into the pits that day, for the water was high and the time had been right for me to make my peace with the Wind." Aradia drew in a quick breath. "What did you do?" "What could I do? He's powerful. He has the ear of the King, even though Hasani despises him. The entire might of the Brotherhood is behind him and Jahannum. The King dare not provoke them." A muscle worked in his jaw. "But one day I'll slit that bastard's evil throat, and when I do, I'll rid the world of at least one child molester." Before she could advise against it, Jaelan rolled onto his back, wincing as savaged flesh came into contact with the bedcovers. Despite his slight intake of breath, the pressure of lying on his wounds did not seem to bother him overly much. "You are as strong willed as you are stubborn." Aradia sat up in bed, crossing her legs beneath her so she sat parallel to his right side. Jaelan put his hand on her bare thigh and caressed her. "I intend to complete my husbandly duties this eve, wench, so be prepared." He ran his hand along her flesh. "As soft as a newborn's rump..." "How many newborn rumps have you stroked?" He smiled. "Would it surprise you to know I've even diapered one of those rumps?" Her eyebrow quirked upward. "One of your offspring, Milord?" He shook his head, then turned his palm up to her, obviously pleased when she took his hand. "She's one of Tarsis' grandchildren. Minerva is her name." Looking at his strong sword hand, Aradia noticed an odd puckering in the palm. She traced the round shape with her index finger. "What caused this?" "I've no idea. I've had it all my life." She lifted his hand to get a better look. "It appears to be a burn...a brand, even." "A slave mark, likely put there before I was sold to Samiel." Bringing his palm to her lips, she kissed the scar, then settled his hand in her lap. "An evil thing to do to an infant." "Slavery is evil in itself,aziza ." "Do you see yourself as a slave?" The back of Jaelan's hand rested at the juncture of her thighs, and his thoughts turned to the silken tresses beneath the cotton nightgown. He ignored her question until she repeated it, then looked up at her, frowning. She cocked her head. "What ails you now, warrior?" "I'm horny and have no..." Aradia released his hand. She stretched out beside him, her feet dangling over the side of the mattress, and began tugging at hisizars . "What are you doing?" he whispered, swallowing hard. "Save your strength for this evening," she said, revealing his turgid staff to the morning air. "Let your lady see to your needs." Closing his eyes as her wondrous lips enclosed him, Jaelan gave himself into her tender care. "Aye, wench, I am a slave...a slave to your insatiable hunger." She continued with the task at hand. A while later, Aradia snuggled as close to her husband as she could, their noses touching. She lightly kissed his lips.

"Hungry?" Jaelan sighed. "I could eat my weight in fried potatoes." She bussed his nose, then threw back the covers. "I think healthier food is more in order this morn." Jaelan frowned. "Healthy as in what, wench?" "You'll see." She stripped off her nightgown and turned her back to him. Jaelan tried to push up in bed to get a better view of his wife's lovely body, but the pull on his wounds made him lie down again. He sighed. "There'll be plenty of time for that," she reprimand as she looked over her shoulder. "Get better quickly and you'll have any of what you see--and all of what you don't." He chuckled, closed his eyes, and soon drifted off. **** "He likes fried potatoes with peppers and onions," one of the Death Lords said. "Two mutton chops, a large--" "Too much grease and not enough vitamins," Aradia remarked, then told the man what she wanted. A deep scowl settled on his rugged face. "He'll not appreciate such food, Milady. Only children--" "Healthy children, I'm sure. Until I'm positive he's well enough to cram all that grease into his belly, he'll eat a lighter repast." The Death Lord exchanged a look with his comrade, but said nothing. One went in search of the food Aradia ordered, while the other remained to guard. "What is your name, warrior?" Aradia asked. "Sadiki, Your Grace." "Thank you for your diligence. I appreciate your loyalty to Lord Jaelan." The man stood straighter. "It is my duty, Your Grace, to watch over the Shadowlord." His eyes cut to hers. "And it is my pleasure to serve him and you." Aradia inclined her head, then went back into Jaelan's chambers. Before she could cross to the bedroom, she heard low voices. She reopened the door to find Tarsis speaking to the guard. "Will you join us while we break our fast, Lord Tarsis?" she asked. The old warrior shook his head. "I've already eaten, Your Grace, but I'd enjoy sharing a cup of coffee with you and Lord Jaelan." Aradia stepped aside to allow the warrior entry. She indicated a chair. Slipping to the bedroom, she looked in on her sleeping husband, then shut the portal. "Is he still abed?" Tarsis asked. "I'll wake him when the food comes. He needs to be up and about." Admiration lit the retired man's eyes. "That was my intent when I came here." "I guessed as much. Now, tell me about the fools in Uadjit." Tarsis' left brow shot upward. "You come to the point--" "I want to know how much of a threat those people are to my husband. I believe there's more to what happened with the magistrate's son than Jaelan's telling me."

"Whatdid he tell you?" "He said he cut the boy's throat. He--" "He was no boy. He was a grown man of thirty and five summers." "All right," Aradia acknowledged. "He told me the young man had been overhead plotting an assassination of the King." Tarsis stuck his fingers under his headpiece and scratched his temple. "Aye, well, there was more to it than that." "I thought as much." Sitting forward in his chair, Tarsis clasped his hands and let them dangle between his spread knees. He sighed. "There's a rebellion brewing here in Rysalia, Milady. There are those who despise the King and greatly fear the power the Brotherhood of the Domination is building. They believe if the Brotherhood is not stopped, it will soon be too powerful to contain." "I agree." "There's a rebel leader the people call Asim, the Protector. He and his band of men have been secretly undermining the power and position of the Brotherhood for many years. For just as many years, Jaelan has been after this troublemaker. We've been able to apprehend a few of Asim's followers, but no one close enough to the murderous leader, himself, to lay a trap. Whoever Asim is, he has powerful connections at Abbadon, for those we catch either wind up dead or go missing. How that's happening is anyone's guess." "He's caused much trouble for the Shadowlord, then?" "Missing shipments of grain...monies diverted from the Temple coffers...slaves freed...women destined for the convent at Galraith abducted and taken out of Rysalia." Tarsis shrugged a thick shoulder. "Aye, the rebels have been a thorn in Jael's side for many years." "And the magistrate's son was one of those thorns?" "The man was not guilty of what he had been accused." Aradia stared at him. "Jaelan killed an innocent man?" Tarsis nodded. "But--" "Jael had no say in the matter. It was Gehenna's doing." "To execute the magistrate's son?" "One of Lord Gehenna's informants told him he knew of a plot to kill King Hasani. He said it originated in the home province of the Shadowlord and wondered if Lord Jaelan might not be involved with its planning. When Lord Gehenna discovered it was the Shadowlord's cousin who was involved, he sent Jaelan to handle the matter." "Was that a normal way of dealing with such a situation?" "The Death Lords carry out punishments. It's Jaelan's job to see that it's done, butnot take the blade into his own hands." "I think I understand. So Gehenna wanted to make sure the people of Uadjit had one more reason to fear and hate Jaelan Ben-Ashaman." "And when the condemned man's wife became part of the punishment, it was left up to the Shadowlord to see that evil was done." "Why couldn't she have kept her mouth shut?" Aradia sighed. "Surely she must have known she would incur the wrath of the Temple by admitting her guilt."

"Would you stand idly by and allow your man to be sent to his death and not protest his innocence?" At Aradia's look of denial, Tarsis spread his hands. "Neither did the girl. She was with child and wanted the babe to live. When given the choice between death and having her tongue removed, she chose the lesser of the evils." "Either way, the punishment was cruel beyond need." "And designed to cause further ill-will amongst the people of Uadjit toward Jaelan." "He acts as though it was no matter of import to him, but I sense otherwise." Tarsis smiled. "You're beginning to know Jaelan, Milady. He's not the ogre he's made out to be."

Chapter 4 By the time Tarsis and Aluino came to visit, Jaelan was sitting on the settee, reading a report from one of his Death Lords. That he seemed comfortable brought relief to the old warrior's face. "I hear you were up and about, walking the corridors as though you own them," Tarsis remarked. "I took my lady for a walk," Jaelan said. "She was growing tired of lying abed." Tarsis rolled his eyes. "More likely, she was tired of being laid upon." "Are you here for a reason or to annoy me?" Jaelan asked. "There's trouble in Yulcuf," Tarsis replied. "The rebels raided a caravan transporting olive oil to Basaraba. We've been ordered to go after them." "I volunteered to lead the Death Lords," Aluino said, "but since the shipment was destined for the Temple, Gehenna wants you to go." "He's in no condition to ride," Aradia snapped from her seat at the vanity. When the three men looked at her with varying degrees of admonishment on their faces, she clamped her lips shut. She went back brushing her long hair, studying the men in the mirror. "When is the troop to leave?" Jaelan asked. Tarsis folded his arms. "Tomorrow morning. Will you be up to the trek?" Not sparing his wife a glance, Jaelan nodded. "I'll have my strength back by then." "Not if I have anything to say about it," Aradia mumbled. Tarsis chuckled. "Going to drain him dry this evening?" Despite Jaelan's warning growl, Aradia smiled. "He's fairly dry right now, Sir Tarsis." Jaelan gasped. "Wench!" "Oh, ho, Ardy!" Aluino said, slapping his leg. "You've made the deadly Shadowlord blush!" "Out!" Jaelan hissed and stood. "Both of you! Now!"

Tarsis strolled to the door, turning to give Aradia a wink before pushing Aluino ahead of him. Aradia aside laid her brush. "Do you really think you're well enough to lead your men?" Jaelan took the brush from the vanity top and gently pulled the bristles through her long tresses. "Do not question my decisions in front of my men,aziza . It's not your place to do so." His hand stilled and he caught her eye in the mirror. "Do you understand?" The chastisement pricked Aradia's ego. She stared into his eyes and sensed their coldness, despite the gentleness of his tone. She nodded, knowing she had overstepped her boundaries. Though she knew he cared for her, perhaps deeply, he was a warrior first, a husband second. "While I'm gone," he said, returning to brushing her hair, "you're to stay in my quarters with Kafele to serve you. I'll post men at the door and leave orders that no one's disturb you." "You fear for my safety?" A frown marred his handsome features. "I'll go to the King before I leave and ask his protection of you. Gehenna will not bother you, but he's not the only enemy I have at Abbadon." "What if Orithia sends for me?" He handed her the brush and moved away. "Do you truly desire to see that witch, or are you asking if I intend to curtail your freedom?" Aradia got up from the vanity bench. "You believe Orithia means me harm?" "She meansme harm. You?" He shrugged. "If you get in the way of her having revenge on me, you could get hurt." "And you think I would not do everything within my power to keep her from obtaining that revenge?" He studied her for a moment. "What are you planning,aziza ?" "Let me go with you to Yulcaf." It annoyed her that, even as she spoke, he started shaking his head. "Why not?" "It will be dangerous." "Life is dangerous, warrior. If I can get word to my friend Phillipa, she can get word to my mother and Orithia's." "How do you propose to get word to your friend? I told her to take the others and leave Rysalia. I made sure she did." "Through the Daughters of the Multitude," she replied. "There are no witches--" he began, but at her grin, stopped. "Those women have infiltrated Rysalia?" "They've been here for as long as the Brotherhood has, warrior. There's no place on this world where you'll not find a Daughter." His frown deepened. "And they will help you?" "Aye, because we Amazeens are members of the Multitude. Orithia is doing something the Amazeen will not countenance, so the Daughters will stand with us on the issue. My greedy sister intends to Join with your king and that's against the laws of the Council. To marry a foreign royal would be disastrous. She's not thinking of our tribe. She wants the power her mother holds in Amazeen now and doesn't want to wait to inherit it. The Daughters will understand and act accordingly." "They would not approve of her bettering her lot? They would prefer her remain a harem slave without status?" "You and I both know a ransom should've been sent to Amazeen for Orithia's return. She's not the first of ours to be taken prisoner by the Rysalians. Don't you wonder why, warrior?" "There won't be a ransom demand, now that Hasani's decided to make her his wife. I was ordered to send a message to the Domestic queen telling her of the proposed marriage."

"The Council will never approve the match, and even if your Tribunal allows such a Joining, it will not last forever," she countered. "He'll grow tired of her and cast her off. Either way, there'll be war between Amazeen and Rysalia." "I imagine so," Jaelan agreed. "As soon as she receives your message, my aunt will go before the Assembly. Within days, they'll be massing for battle." "I hope it doesn't come to that." "We have to see it doesn't, warrior. As I said, despite how enamored your King is of Orithia, that fascination is bound to wear off. If he's offered a goodly sum for her return to Amazeen, do you think he'll take it?" He folded his arms. "Your mother offered an extravagant amount for your return and the Diabolusian turned it down." Aradia sensed the jealousy lurking in his remark and lifted her head. "He loved me more than he did gold." "Loved or desired?" "It is one and the same, warrior." "No,aziza , it is not." Before she could protest his remark, he shrugged. "Hasani loves gold more than he'll ever love any woman. I believe he'd turn her over and the Joining will never take place. At least not legally." "What do you mean?" "Hasani's a devious man. I'd not put it past him to stage a fake ceremony. He's done it before." "That would serve Orithia right." "As you say, once the novelty of her wears off, he'll move on to the next captive woman. The money he'll put in the treasury, and he'll be content." Aradia held his unblinking stare. "If you had been in the Diabolusian's place, would you have accepted my mother's offer?" "No amount of money willever buy you from this man," he said, a muscle working in his jaw. "If you think to have your mother offer you, she'll be wasting time." His answer thrilled Aradia. Her heartbeat quickened. She turned and spoke as though no mention had been made of Diabolusia or its King. "If I can get word to Phillipa and suggest a high enough amount of ransom, Orithia's mother will gladly pay for her return." "Even though she's damaged goods?" Jaelan asked. "Especially so. I was damaged goods, but they wanted me back just the same." "And did they treat you as a returning daughter--or as damaged goods?" In the mirror, she saw a deep furrow creasing his brow. "I fell in love with my captor," she said, not daring to turn around. "Orithia's not in love with Hasani, just using him. There's a difference." "The difference being you wanted to stay in Diabolusia." "Aye." "And now?" She turned, expecting anger on his face. But what she saw deeply touched her--a little boy's anxiousness to be loved and a grown man's uncertainty that he was. Aradia placed her hand against his cheek. "I am where I belong. More than that, warrior, I am where I want to be."

He stood rigid as he looked down at her. "You no longer wish you had been allowed to stay with him?" "I repeat--I am where Iwant to be." Still he would not unbend. His expression turned hard, his eyes cold. "Do you still have thoughts of him?" "I have memories of my time in Diabolusia." "That is not what I asked!" "Aye," she said, not wanting any lies or secrets between them. "I think of him now and again, but never will I allow my thoughts to turn me away from you. I'll not allow those thoughts to interfere with the life you and I will make together." "I'm your husband," he said, his voice fierce. Aradia shivered. "And I'm your wife." "Damned right you are!" Jaelan's arms snaked around her, dragging her to him in a crush that took away her breath. She felt the strength of his body from her breasts to her knees. His sword hand, buried in her loose hair, anchored her head for his lips to plunder her mouth. His left hand gripped her buttocks in a punishing clench that molded her lower body to his straining shaft. She opened her lips, resigning herself to the sweet torment his tongue inflicted, surrendering to the rape. Her legs felt weak, unable to hold her, and she sagged against him as she felt the pulse of the bulge at his thighs. He dipped his knees and slid his arm beneath her legs. He lifted her high against him, cradling her like a trophy of war, and carried her to their bed. After settling her, he shucked off his robe and put his hands on the neckline of her cotton nightgown. In one urgent motion, he shredded the material, revealing her luscious curves to his eager gaze. Aradia worried over the condition of his back and did not want him to hurt himself, but the look on his face as he covered her body with his stilled any protest she entertained. She welcomed him with a lift of her arms, encircling his broad shoulders and reveling in his weight as he settled atop her. No words passed their lips as Jaelan spread her legs with his knees. He did not fumble in his attempt to take her, his aim steady and sure. He drove deep into her sweetness as surely as a marksman's arrow. Her grunt of satisfaction as the hilt of his fleshy weapon sank into her sent his hands beneath her buttocks to lift her to him. As Aradia's legs went around his hips, securing him within her, Jaelan began the long, deep stroke that would mark her as his own. Aradia gloried in the full length of him. His heaviness caused a delicious ache in the center of her womb. She yearned to rake her nails into his back, but that desire would have to wait until after he fully healed. Instead, she lightly sank her teeth into the flesh between his shoulder and neck, and at his harsh indrawn breath, she knew the action thrilled him as much as it did her. She felt him quiver, then smiled as the pistoning of his cock increased in speed and depth of penetration, and she tightened her legs around him, arching her back to meet his frenzied thrusts. He spoke words she did not understand--love words, sex words, she had no doubt. Their cadence and urgency brought shivers of pleasure down her neck. His wiry chest hair, prickling at her sensitive, straining nipples, added to the erotic enjoyment that rapidly claimed her with talons of hot desire. Jaelan rushed toward climax, but held back, struggling to see his lady fulfilled before satisfying his own need. Sweat broke out on his forehead, ran down his chest, making their bodies slick where they touched. His thrusts went strong and deep, his arms shaking as he kept a portion of his weight from crushing her. At the moment he felt the ripple of her passion begin, heard her gasp, sensed the depth of her climax, he squeezed his eyes shut, straining hard to deny his own release until hers pulsed around him. "Jaelan!" she cried, her inner muscles milking him. He let go. The spurt of his seed elicited a roar that startled them both. The bed trembled beneath the strength of his released, and he collapsed atop her, panting, his face against her shoulder. Gently, she embraced him, holding him as though he were an infant. She smoothed the damp hair from his forehead and kissed him on the temple. Pinned beneath him, she knew a contentment she had not experienced for a long time, and never to the depth to which she had been taken. She knew in her heart she had found her life-mate.

"Do you still believe me too weak to do my duty, wench?" he mumbled. "Mayhap not your husbandly duty, warrior. The other remains to be seen, doesn't it?" He shifted his weight and rested beside her, his arm draped possessively around her waist. He snuggled his face against the side of her breast, inhaling deeply the musky scent of her passion mixed with his. Her right arm gripped his shoulder, her fingers idly scrolling upon his flesh. The sensation sent prickles of pleasure down his spine. "Don't ever leave me, Aradia." "No, warrior, I won't." "No matter what amount they bid for you," he said, his words slurred with impending sleep. She knew he thought there would one day come a ransom bid for her, and she knew she should tell him no bid would ever be made. She had gone willingly with him; her people would have disowned her by now. Once, long ago, they'd had no choice but to overlook her liaison with the Diabolusian prince, for she had been young and easily led. But she was older now, understood well what giving herself to a man of her own free will meant amongst the Amazeen. And since her capture five years earlier, the laws of Amazeen had become stricter, and no longer would such liaisons be tolerated. That the man to whom she had allowed her life to be Joined was an enemy far worse than any Diabolusian warrior, would have made the decision to cast her from her tribe easier for her mother and the Council of Elders. "No matter what amount," she whispered. His soft snoring voiced that her words had comforted him. He believed her worth something in the eyes of her tribe, though she knew her life was now valueless to them. So long as she had value to him, she could forget she was now an outcast to her people. **** Furious, Queen Hyacinth ripped apart the paper, her lips skinned back from her teeth. The harsh red enflaming her face contrasted unbecomingly with her orange-flame hair. After casting the paper scraps into the fire, she turned to her cousin, Queen Erudite, and cursed vehemently. "Calm yourself, Cousin," Erudite advised. "It is not healthy to allow oneself to become so enraged." "It is notyour daughter pinned beneath the slimy bulk of the Rysalian hippopotamus!" Hyacinth shouted. "Nay, mine is pinned beneath the weight of a Diabolusian warthog," Erudite said. Spitting with rage, Hyacinth picked up a crystal goblet and sent it crashing against the stone hearth. Still not satisfied, she yanked at her hair, pulling at the strands with unconcern for either the pain or the possibility of pulling out the tresses by the roots. Erudite sighed. Her father's side of the family tended to breed unrestraint. Chaleans were not known for being rational. Tempers easily flared, and with liquor added to the mix--as it had been after Hyacinth read the Rysalian message--that temper became a volcano waiting to erupt. "I must go before the Assembly and seek a declaration of war," Hyacinth announced. "Are you with me?" "No." "Why not?" her cousin demanded in a strident shriek. "Because we could not hope to win against the might of the Rysalians. There are millions of them, and less than ten thousand of us. If we take war to their land, we'll be at a disadvantage. We're used to lush forests and water at every turn. In that hellish place, there are miles upon miles of hot sand with no water in sight. No trees with which to replenish our quivers. When you take war to foreign soil, you're liable to lose." "I don't want to hear that!" "I know." "I want my daughter back!" Hyacinth began to sob wildly, covering her face with her freckled hands.

Sighing once more, Erudite got up from her chair and put a comforting arm around her cousin's shaking shoulders. "Now that we know their intent, let's offer a hefty ransom for Orithia's return. Chances are, the moneygrubbers will pounce. My feeling is we'll have her back before too many more weeks have fled." "He wants her, Eruie!" Hyacinth whimpered. "That bastard pig wants my little girl! He means to have her. Just as the Diabolusian wanted Aradia! The only way we'll ever get Ori back is if we go into Rysalia and rescue her. We cannot leave an Amazeen in the hands of barbarians." Erudite's mouth tightened. "Do you forget my Aradia is also a captive, shackled to a Rysalian warrior? I shall never see her again. At least if we offer a large ransom for Orithia, we may be able to gether back." Hyacinth dismissed the words with a wave of her hand. "Aradia offered herself to that one. She knew what she was doing." "She Joined with that vile warrior thinking he would see to Orithia's release. Because of it, she has now been voted from the tribe. All foryour daughter!" "Phillipa said she went willingly to his arms. Your daughter has always had her head turned by a handsome face and muscular body." Digging her fingernails into her palm, Erudite stormed from the room. As Defense Queen, the Assembly would need her vote before warrioresses could be sent beyond Amazeen shores. No way she would sanction such madness. As angry as she was with Hyacinth, she was angrier still with her oldest daughter. Aradia had thrown away her life for a man not worth the sandal strap of a beggar's footwear. **** In the library where she spent much of her time, Phillipa looked up as her childhood friend entered. From the look on Erudite's face, Phillipa knew the meeting with Hyacinth had not gone well. "She's determined to send our women to war?" "Over my dead body. I'll not give permission." "I don't imagine the Council of Elders will, either," Phillipa commented. "Though the Assembly will discuss it, no declaration will be issued." "Oh, war will be declared. Let us get our hands on a Rysalian male and you'll hear screams from here to Asaraba! What I wouldn't give to have Ben-Ashaman in my interrogation room!" Okyale cleared her throat, drawing the attention of the women. "There's more to that one than you know, Majesty." "Well, what does that mean?" Phillipa demanded. The girl closed her book, marking her place with a raven's feather. "I sensed darkness surrounding him and warned Ardy. But because she insisted on staying with him and sent us home, I've thrown the runes many times, trying to scree why she behaved as she did." "She saved his life in Diabolusia, remember?" Phillipa said, exasperated. "Obviously she feels some misplaced connection to him." "Perhaps, but I sensed something deeper between them." Her eyes went to her Queen. "The man has much affection for your daughter." "Gratefulness for his life," Phillipa scoffed. "It goes beyond that," Okyale said. "He knew what we were about and could have had us arrested. It would have been safer for him if he had, but he allowed us to leave." "Because he had Aradia!" Phillipa snapped. "He had what he wanted." Erudite moved to the table where Okyale sat. "What did the runes tell you about Ben-Ashaman?"

"That he's not what he seems. There's mystery surrounding him, evil, but it's directedat him, not comingfrom him." She held her Queen's gaze. "Your daughter's safer in his hands than she'd be in any others." "Does he love her?" Erudite inquired. "The runes say he does." "And what of her? What do the runes say of her feelings for him?" "They say he is her life-mate, and her love is great for him." Phillipa swore beneath her breath. "Give her a handsome face and the girl melts like butter on a hot griddle!" Erudite flinched. "Do I need to worry for her with him?" Okyale shook her head. "The runes have said nothing of harm coming to her." "Cast the runes for Orithia," Erudite ordered. "I want to know what the Ancient Ones say of that conniving piece of fluff." Okyale pulled a burlap bag out of the pocket of her gown. She opened it, poured thirteen stones onto the tabletop, then turned each over so the symbols were not visible. After scattering them with the palm of her hand, she closed her eyes. Her lips moved as she prayed to the Ancient Ones for guidance. When her hand stopped moving, she picked up a stone and transferred it to her left hand. Four times more she repeated the action. She pushed the remaining stones out of the way, then one by one took the five stones from her left hand and set them beside one another. Finally she opened her eyes. Frowning, she turned over two stones, the symbols of which had been hidden, then stepped back. "It is not good?" Erudite said. "No, Majesty, it is not." Okyale picked up the first stone. "This is the kai. It tells of Orithia's frame of mind. This says she thinks only of herself." She picked up the second stone. "This is br'ele. It tells her intent--personal gain, no matter the cost." She picked up the third and fourth stone together. "These are cuelm and stah. They tell of what is to come--death, with destruction to follow." The fifth stone remained on the table. Okyale looked loath to pick it up. She scooped the other stones into her hand and returned them to the burlap pouch. "That stone," she said, "is overpowering despair. That will be the outcome of Orithia's actions." "Despair for whom?" Erudite asked. "The runes do not say." Reluctantly, Okyale picked up the last stone and hurriedly put it into the pouch. "With any luck, the despair will be the Rysalian king's," Phillipa stated. "I intend to see Orithia doesnot get what her heart desires," Erudite said. "If her efforts are stymied, the future may reshape itself." Okyale returned the pouch to her pocket, obviously disturbed by what she had seen. "May I go now, Majesty?" "Aye," Erudite replied. "And thank you for the reading." Okyale bobbed her head in acknowledgment, then picked up her book on herbs and their usage. She smiled hesitantly at Phillipa before hurrying from the room. "She saw something she cared not to share," Erudite remarked. "I got that feeling, too, but if it had pertained to Aradia, she would have said so." The Queen sighed. "I think you're right. Now I must go and defend my position with the Assembly. Pray I say the right words and my cousin does not get her wish to send our young women half a world away to fetch a tart unworthy

of our time." "I'm of a mind to go back to Rysalia," Phillipa said. "I don't like the idea of Aradia spending the rest of her life in that heathen place." "Nor do I, but she can never return to Amazeen anyway," Erudite said, her voice breaking. "The Council of Elders will not allow it." "She knew what might happen if she tried to help Orithia. We all did." "Perhaps this has taught your little band of rebels a lesson, my friend." At Phillipa's look of surprise, Erudite laughed. "Did you think I did not have eyes and ears in your group of misfits? I knew what you were planning an hour before you set out for Rysalia." "Why didn't you stop us? Aradia would be safe and--" "I'd hoped she could find a way to rescue her cousin. If she had, her actions would have gone a long way in placing her in the good graces of the Elders. Now..." Erudite wiped at her eyes. "Now, that will never happen." Phillipa touched her friend's hand. "What can I do?" "We will send a large ransom offer to Rysalia. I cannot believe Hasani Jaleem is as enamored of Orithia as the Diabolusian was with Aradia." "He loved Aradia, and she him," Phillipa said. "She told you this?" Erudite asked, her face showing shock. "Aye. Had it not been for the prince's father, I believe Aradia would be in Diabolusia now." "Could she really love the Rysalian?" Phillipa shrugged. "Anything's possible, and he's a handsome devil. She's been a long time without a man. Perhaps hormones led her on this reckless course." Erudite flinched. "I'll need trustworthy warrioresses to take the ransom to Rysalia and bring back that selfish little bitch of Hyacinth's--in chains, if need be. Will you do this?" "It will be my honor, Majesty. May I take my misguided band of misfits?" "Be my guest. Better with you than causing mischief here for the Elders. If I know Aradia, she'll try to get word to you in some fashion. If she has the ear of the Shadowlord, perhaps he'll allow her to speak with you." "And if she does?" "Tell her that her mother loves her. I want only the best for her. Say nothing to her of this, but I do not intend that my daughter spend her life in that hellish desert. I've sent word to Diabolusia asking the king if my daughter can find sanctuary with him." "His wife won't like that," Phillipa cautioned. "Nor will his people. They'll remember how he felt about Aradia when he was a prince." "It matters not how either his wife or his people feel. If he still has feelings for my child, he'll help me wrest her from the Hasdu's clutches."

Chapter 5

The tavern lay in darkness, filled with smoke. One man slumped over a table, his raucous snores the only sound as two strangers entered and took a table at the far end of the room. After a cursory glimpse at the newcomers, those who sat drinking ignored the tall man in black and his smaller companion. "Where the hell is the tavern keeper?" Jaelan grumbled. "I may be mistaken," Aradia said, "but I'm willing to bet that's him on the table. He's wearing an apron." "Too fond of his own wares." "Shall I wake him?" "Keep your pretty ass right where it is." Jaelan put two fingers into his mouth. The piercing whistle brought the sleeping tavern keeper upright in his seat. He yawned and scraped back his chair. He got warily to his feet, yawning again, and started toward them. "My humblest apologies." A good look at Jaelan stopped him dead in his tracks. His eyes bulged. He dropped to the floor, his arms straight out before him. "Forgive me, Lord Jaelan!" At the sound of the Shadowlord's name, the other patrons scuttled away, quietly closing the tavern door behind them. "Two beers--and be quick about it," Jaelan ordered. "Your wish is my command, Milord!" Aradia smiled as the man began crab-walking his way out of the room. She chuckled. "Youare an evil man, Jaelan Ben-Ashaman." Jaelan stretched out his long legs and crossed his arms over his chest. "Rank has its privileges. So how will you go about finding one of your women allies?" "That's a secret I'd rather not share, even with you." At her husband's stony look, Aradia shrugged, then lowered her voice. "You would not tell me how you hide your identity as Lord Asim, would you?" Jaelan held his wife's gaze for a long moment, then looked away, seemingly unconcerned about her suspicions. The tavern keeper brought their beers, locked the door and left them alone, while Jaelan sipped from his mug. "What? No comment, warrior?" Aradia inquired. Jaelan took another long pull on his beer. Licking the foam from his upper lip, he set down the tankard, drew in his legs, and leaned over the table. "Where did you hear about Asim?" He clucked his tongue. "Tarsis has a big mouth." "Does he know?" she asked, lifting her tankard to her mouth. "Tarsis knows less than he thinks he does." Aradia nodded, understanding. "A dangerous game you play." "Life is dangerous. Isn't that what you told me?" "Who else knows about your rebellious activities?" "How do you get word to a Daughter?" he countered. "I tie a lavender ribbon somewhere in a prominent place here in Yulcaf--somewhere a Daughter will see it. I wait and see who unties the ribbon and wraps it around the index finger of her left hand. I then follow her, and we exchange code words. Code words I'llnot reveal." She cocked an eyebrow at him, waiting. "'Lui," he responded, then took another drink of beer.

"He's the only one?" "One other, but that identity I'llnot reveal." "Only two?" Aradia breathed a sigh of relief. "How do you get in contact with your rebels?" He gave her a steady look. "You don't need to know. There's enough insulation between me and the Protector that no one will ever discover the truth." She smiled. "I did." "You made a wild guess, wench." "No...I'm merely beginning to understand the way you think." Jaelan grunted, then drained his tankard. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Let's go find your Daughter." He dug into his robe and pulled out coins to pay for the beer. "You can't go." "I go, or you won't go at all!" His voice brooked no argument. "One look at you and no Daughter will venture near me!" He stood and drew in a long breath, nodding his understanding. "You go out first, tie your ribbon, then watch. I'll wait at the tavern window and guard you." Aradia rolled her eyes. "As though I can't protect myself!" "Do it my way or not at all. I was not thrilled to bring you along in the first place." He didn't tell her he'd done so without Gehenna's knowledge. Dropping her hand to the dagger at her waist, Aradia gripped the handle, making sure his gaze went to the lethal weapon before she shrugged. "You drive an impossible bargain--but I can live with it." He watched her get up, adjust her billowing robe, then touched her cheek as she made to walk past him. "Be careful, aziza ." He cupped the back of her head and brought her lips to his. The kiss, though the lightest touch, had the power to weaken Aradia's knees. Standing at the window as he promised, Jaelan watched over his lady. She headed for a low building, where other women entered and exited. At the hitching post, Aradia withdrew a pale silk ribbon from her robe and tied it to the post. Jaelan's eyes never left her. He pursed his lips as his wife ambled to another building and took up a position. For half an hour, few women took notice of the ribbon fluttering in the breeze; those who did shied away from it. One man saw it and headed that way, but his companion stopped him, shaking his head. Jaelan shifted his attention to Aradia to see her reaction. "He knew what it was," he said under his breath and shifted his attention back to the man. Delving into the man's thoughts, Jaelan caught a word that puzzled him--"sentinel." "He is a helpmate to a Daughter." Jaelan blinked, realizing his wife had sent him the explanation. He saw her grin and he nodded, making a mental note to ask what exactly a "helpmate" or "sentinel" did. A young woman carrying a large wicker basket came out of the building and stopped when she saw the ribbon. Neither glancing to her left or right, she sat the basket on the ground, untied the ribbon, then casually wrapped in around her left index finger. Stooping, she picked up her basket, then started walking toward where Aradia waited. Jaelan tensed, his eyes narrowing as the women met. The young one placed her basket on the ground, then unwound the ribbon and handed it to Aradia. An exchange of a words followed before Aradia headed back to the tavern.

Jaelan opened the door for his wife. "Well?" "Salome with get word to her council. They, in turn, will send word to Amazeen. We should know something within the next three days." "Sentinel?" "Every Daughter has a male who's pledged to aid her. He's her protector, servant, a loyal friend who'll do her bidding without question." Jaelan frowned. "Do you have a sentinel?" "I've never needed one, warrior, but it would be nice to--" "You have all you need in me! There's no need for any other male in your life." "A Sentinel doesn't help in the same way a husband does." "They are not lovers?" When Aradia took in her husband's warning look, she admitted that, on occasion, some Daughters had taken the companionship offered to them by their Sentinels. "A Sentinel is something you'll never have," the Shadowlord decreed and took her by the arm. "I have business to conduct in Yulcaf. I'll take you back to the camp." Aradia said nothing, knowing her husband would make good on his decision to return her to the camp where his Death Lords waited. She had completed her mission, and now it was merely a matter of time before Phillipa and the others arrived. "Dressed as nuns, no doubt," Jaelan mumbled, "and stinking to high heaven." Aradia cast him an annoyed look. "Stop reading my mind." "Best I do, so I can help your friends do what we need." When Jaelan opened the door and ushered his wife outside, he became aware of a troop of horsemen riding toward them from the edge of town. He tensed, putting his wife behind him. "Your men?" Aradia asked. "No." Jaelan closed his eyes, but snapped them open once the identity of the riders came to him. "Who are they?" "Temple Guards...Gehenna's men." Aradia felt tension rippling through her husband. He stood rigidly, his hand on the dagger at his hip. She put a hand on his taut back. "What should I do?" "Get inside and close the door. Go out through the back and make your way to our horses. Ride to the camp and tell Tarsis that Sekhem Neter has arrived." The name of the Temple's Chief Guard unsettled Aradia. "Why is he here?" Jaelan hissed, ordering her to do as instructed. "Now, woman." Knowing it would do no good to argue, Aradia reluctantly did as demanded. As she rode out of Yulcaf, she looked back and saw the horsemen grouped around the tavern where her husband stood. A sense of unease followed closely on the hooves of her mount. She kicked the animal into a fast gallop, hell-bent to reach Tarsis as quickly as possible.

**** Sekhem Neter halted his stallion in front of the Shadowlord. "I have been sent by His Grace, Lord Gehenna, to escort Lady Ben-Ashaman back to Abbadon," he said without preamble. Jaelan's eyes narrowed into thin slits. "Why?" he demanded, a muscle bunching in his jaw. Neter smiled nastily. "You did not seek, nor were you granted permission, to bring her with you to Yulcaf, Milord." "I was unaware I needed anyone's permission to do with my wife as I saw fit!" "A man does not take his woman with him when he has been given an assignment from the Temple." Jaelan raised his chin. "I'm not any man, Captain. I'm the Shadowlord--or have you forgotten?" Neter made the mistake of shrugging. "It matters not to His Grace, Lord Gehenna, what you are. He--" Neter flew off his horse, hovered in midair, then plowed head-first into a nearby horse trough. Water sprayed up and swirled over the sides of the trough as an invisible hand held the thrashing body beneath the surface. No rider dared interfere, even if it meant attempting to save the Chief Guard's life. "Is there another of you who wishes to insult me?" Jaelan bellowed. After a chorus of "no's," the second in command held up his hand and motioned the troop to leave. He cast a nervous glance toward the trough, where Neter had surfaced long enough to gasp a lungful of air before again being pushed beneath the undulating water. "He'll not meet his much-deserved end today," Jaelan snarled, "but I won't say the same about the rest of you!" The mass exodus of Temple Guards, turning horses and scurrying away, Neter's horse trailing behind, rewarded Jaelan. Allowing Neter to surface before shoving him under the water a final time, Jaelan whistled for his stallion. The animal came trotting to him, the beast's tether untied by the same invisible hand that had ceased to punish Neter. "Cross me once more, Sekhem, and it'll be thelast time." Jaelan swung into the saddle, clucked to his mount, and left the dripping wet man vomiting water from his shuddering body. **** "You like to live dangerously, don't you, bantling?" Tarsis complained. "Take her back with you to Abbadon tonight," Jaelan said, ignoring the jibe. "Make sure she's safe." "You know you'll wind up paying for nearly drowning Gehenna's pet." "I can handle whatever they throw at me as long as I know she's not in danger." "I said you will--" "I heard you, old man," Jaelan snapped. "I'm well aware of Gehenna's plans for me. Even now he's with the king demanding I be sent to Ghurn Colony for daring to lay hands on his precious Chief Guard." "You're lucky he doesn't ask for the Labyrinth," Aluino snorted. "Hasani would never send Jael to Tyber's Isle," Tarsis scoffed. "Not unless Jael did actual murder, and even then, it would have to be someone the king had feelings for, and we know he has feelings for no one other than himself." Aradia stood, uncharacteristically silent, while the men talked. Jaelan glanced at her when he ordered Tarsis to take her back to the fortress, surprised she had not protested. Her lack of response perturbed him. "What ails you, wench?" She raised her head. "This is the second time I've unknowingly caused you trouble, Milord. Once more you're being

chastised because of me." "So?" "If the King sends you to Ghurn--" "He won't." She locked gazes with him. "How can you be so sure?" He shifted beneath her scrutiny, shrugging off her concern as though it were an unwanted garment. "Because he needs me. Lashing me is one thing. Sending me away is another." "You have more faith in him than I." When he started to protest, she held up a hand. "Regardless, I've done what I needed to do in Yulcaf, so I'll return with Sir Tarsis and bide my time as you see fit." Suspicious at her meekness, Jaelan got up from the rock on which he'd been sitting. "Why does that answer not sit well with me?" he asked, hunkering beside her. "Because you don't trust anyone other than yourself?" "I trust you," he said, smoothing an errant lock of hair from behind her ear. "I'll not be the cause of any more hurt coming to you." She captured his hand and brought it to her lips. Through the sweep of her lashes, she stared into his amber-gold eyes. "I'd give my life for you." A shiver ran through Jaelan's body. He gathered her to him, holding her in a fierce grip. "Never say that. Never!" **** Tarsis cocked his head for Aluino to leave. "I donot like the sound of that," Aluino whispered. "Should anything happen to that woman, Jaelan would lose his mind," Tarsis replied. "What little he has left." "I hate to think what would happen if he lost her." Aluino let out a long breath. "It would not be pretty..."

Chapter 6 "Send word as soon as you cross into Rysalia," Queen Erudite ordered Phillipa. She looked at Okyale, Euryleia, and Ulivia Helioposis. "Ladies, be careful and come back to us unscathed." "And unshackled to Rysalian pigs," Queen Hyacinth spat. "We'll guard the ransom with our lives, Majesty," Phillipa said. "All I ask is that you bring Orithia back to me," the Domestic Queen answered. "Your lives are not as important as my daughter's, but I'll pray to Aluvial for you."

"Very generous of you," Erudite murmured. "Go with the Wind," Hyacinth declared, lifting her hand to give the ancient blessing. She cast Erudite an annoyed look, then turned and stalked off. "Such a gracious, caring lady," Phillipa sneered. "Ignore her," Erudite stated. "Bring that conniving piece of worthlessness back to us, because I want to publicly humiliate her for being the cause of my daughter's banishment. I will be praying for you to the Goddess--your lives are far more worthy than Orithia's." "One way or another, Orithia will be returned to Amazeen," Phillipa said. "Go with the Wind, my friends," Erudite blessed the warrioresses. "I'm counting on you to set things right." **** From the shadows of the throne room, hidden behind a tall screen, Kydoime Valsca, Aradia's half-sister, carefully listened. She loved Orithia more than anything in the world, and to be privy to plans designed to cause harm to the beautiful blonde set Kydoime's blood to boiling. Scoring the palms of her hands with nails clenched into her flesh, Kydoime pressed against the wall to keep from being seen as the warrioresses left on their mission. As Ulivia passed, she turned and looked at Kydoime. "I'll catch up with you," she called to the others. She knelt and pretended to work the laces of her sandals. "Don't tarry, Ulivia," Phillipa replied. "I want to be in Daedel by week's end." "I'll be right along," Ulivia assured. When the others were out of sight, Ulivia stood. "What instructions do you wish me to give Her Grace?" "Tell her Queen Erudite plans to throw her to the wolves once she's home. I agree Orithia should be here, but I don't want to see her shamed before the Council. Bid her tell the Council she was held against her will." "Everyone knows that isn't true," Ulivia protested. "We have only Aradia's word of these so-called plans to Join with the Rysalian king, and we know Lykopis' word is nothing short of suspect," Kydoime said. "She would say anything to usurp Orithia's position. Ulivia nodded. "I'll do as you ask, Your Grace." She bowed and was about to turn when Kydoime grabbed her arm, gripping so tightly Ulivia winced. "If you get the chance," Kydoime said, "slip a dagger through that troublemaker's ribs and I'll pay you well." Ulivia's eyes grew wide. "You want me to kill the Princess Aradia?" "Do it and I'll make you my Lady-In-Waiting when I ascend the throne as Defense Queen." A sly smile stretched Ulivia's full lips. She bowed once more, the pain of Kydoime's grip no longer a concern. "I'll see what I can do, Your Grace." Kydoime released her hold on the woman and stepped back. She began her laborious walk through the throne room, her crooked leg dragging along the marble floor. **** With his assignment completed in Yulcaf, and two rebel soldiers in tow, Jaelan and his men headed back to Abbadon. A messenger caught up with them near Syskel. "What is it?" Aluino asked, bringing his horse alongside Jaelan's. "An order to pick up a prisoner in Uadjit."

"Who?" "It doesn't say." Jaelan nodded curtly at the messenger, who turned his horse and galloped away. "That's a day's ride out of our way," Aluino complained. Jaelan rolled up the parchment missive and stuck it in his saddlebag. "Convenient, eh?" Aluino crossed his hands over the pommel. "You think you're being sent there to prolong your return to the fortress?" Jaelan unhooked his water skin from the saddle and uncorked it. "Either that or the prisoner's someone meant to hurt me." He squirted water into his dry mouth. He offered his friend a drink, but Aluino declined. "You don't think it's him, do you?" "Not a chance," Jaelan replied, though like Aluino, his first thought was of the only other man in Rysalia who knew the Shadowlord was the rebel leader, Asim. "I suppose it's too much to ask that it's that evil aunt of yours." "The gods would never be that generous." Jaelan turned in the saddle and informed his Death Lords that they would make a side trip to Uadjit. Though no man complained, their faces said they were not happy. **** Orithia tried to mask her disgust in the presence of Arch-Deacon Jahannum Dahur. The man smelled if stale sex, and she suspected he'd come to their meeting fresh from the bed of his latest victim. She eyed him with as much repugnance as she would a leper. "My brother," Jahannum said, "Prelate of Justice Gehenna Dahur, will be awaiting our mutual enemy in Uadjit. Matters will be attended to that are long overdue." "I do not follow," Orithia replied. "Of whom do you speak?" "Come now," Jahannum tittered. "Do you have so many enemies that the names of them escape you, woman?" "I have my share of detractors," Orithia answered. "Are we speaking of Ben-Ashaman?" The Archdeacon giggled. "None other." "And how will matters be handled regarding that vile son-of-a-whore?" Jahannum's loud laughter filled the room, making Orithia wince. "Oh, if you only knew who his dam was!" He slapped his hand on his knee. Tears of mirth filled his eyes, and he swiped them away with the heels of his hands. "I care not who his dam was," Orithia snapped. "All I want is his head on a pike!" Jahannum grinned. "I'm afraid that's not an option, handsome head that it is. But our recalcitrant Shadowlord will be made to atone for his many transgressions against the Temple." "I don't care anything about your precious Temple!" Orithia sneered. "Just tell me he'll be punished in ways that will cripple him!" The Archdeacon leaned back in his chair. "What ways would you suggest?" Orithia's eyes gleamed with malice. "Take my bewitched sister away from him and sell her to the filthiest whorehouse you can find. That'll teach them to dare interfere in my plans!" "The filthiest whorehouse I can find." Jahannum shivered delicately. "That would assuredly be a vile punishment for her, but do you feel it'll be one Lord Jaelan will find equally unpalatable?" Orithia arched a brow. "The man was willing to have the flesh flayed from his body in order to keep her. What do you think knowing she's being pawed by every diseased sailor in the Rysalian fleet would do to him?"

Jahannum steepled his fingers and rested them under his chin. "I believe it would destroy our fierce Shadowlord." "Then do it. Place her well out of his reach, but make it possible for him to know where she is, what she's suffering because of him." "She'll be well out of his reach for a while, at any rate." "Not for a while--but forever!" "That may not be possible, for once he returns from Ghurn Colony, he'll no doubt go looking for her." "You're speaking of the penal colony? You're sending him to prison?" "For a year," Jahannum said, then shrugged. "That was all the King would agree to, and even that was like pulling teeth." "Unacceptable! I never want him to be able to hold my stupid sister in his lecherous arms ever again!" "We could kill her," Jahannum suggested eagerly. "That's too final a punishment for her, though it would hurt him more than anything else, I suspect." "Many things can happen within the span of a year, Pale One. Perhaps we'll find a place to hide your sister where Ben-Ashaman will never find her." "Such as?" Orithia asked, her eyes narrowed. "If you don't know, you can't tell him, can you?" The Archdeacon laughed. "Let me assure you, we have another woman with close ties to our Shadowlord interned in the same place we could send your sister. Jaelan knows nothing about her, either." "His mother?" "Alas, Jaelan's mother is dead." When Orithia asked whom he meant, Jahannum held up his hand. "You do not need to know." "You think it'll be easy to capture Ben-Ashaman?" Jahannum grinned. "Oh, yes! Once he arrives in Uadjit, he'll have a surprise waiting for him. Even with his loyal Death Lords at his side, there will be nowhere in that village he can run that Gehenna's men or the villagers will not block the escape. As powerful as his gifts, they will be useless against so many." "I'm told he can wield invisible armies," Orithia said, sitting forward. "How do you propose to thwart such power?" Jahannum's smile turned pure evil. "With a well-placed arrow to his shoulder." "With his recuperative powers--" "A well-placed iron arrow tipped in Maiden's Briar. A missile that will bring him down like the dog he is." "Aren't you afraid he'll read the minds of those lying in wait for him?" she asked, her heart beating faster. "Every man, woman, and child in Uadjit has been subjected to the tender mercies of my brother's chosen Healer, Hajib Kielos. The man has a fine talent of his own. He can mesmerize his subjects at will so that no stray thought will enter the ether for our crafty Shadowlord to hear." Orithia's lips moved into a slow, hateful smile. "I think I like you, Excellency." **** Sulaimon hurried to the Shadowlord's quarters. He had followed the pale one and listened in on her conversation with the Archdeacon. What he heard had alarmed him.

Tarsis came to Lord Jaelan's door. After hearing news of the evil goings-on between the Amazeen princess and Jahannum Dakur, Tarsis ordered a guards to make ready his mount. He thanked Sulaimon and asked that he stay with Aradia until another guard could be summoned. "It would be my honor, Sir Tarsis," Sulaimon agreed. Aradia came out of the bathing chamber as Tarsis made to leave. "Where are you going?" "I've something to see to," Tarsis mumbled. "Sulaimon will keep you company." Something about the look on the old warrior's face bothered Aradia, but she knew better than to pry. If anything, Tarsis was more closed lip than Jaelan. So she turned her questions to the Nubian. "I know nothing of Sir Tarsis' plans," the dark man said, spreading his hands. "He asked only that I watch over you." Aradia knew the man was lying and knew, too, that whatever had sent Tarsis hurrying from the room had something to do with Jaelan. Worried that her husband had been hurt, she also decided she must find a way to leave the silken prison in which she'd been thrust. "Is my sister in the seraglio, or has she moved into the King's chambers?" she asked idly, running a hand along the edge of a table. "Until the Tribunal has granted permission for the King to join with the Pale One, she will be in the seraglio." "Think you I could see her?" Since Tarsis had not said the Shadowlord's lady could not visit her sister, Sulaimon saw no harm it in. He would escort her, with guards following, to the seraglio. Once inside, he had no doubt Lord Jaelan's woman would be safe. "If it would please you, Lady." Sulaimon swept a hand before him to indicate she could proceed him out the door. Aradia was relieved to see only one guard, though she wondered where the other had gone. She walked slowly down the corridor, despite an overwhelming urge to break away and run. The closer they came to the room where Jaelan had shown her a secret passageway out of Abbadon, the more nervous she became. She recalled her husband's words: "No one knows of the hidden panel. Once, when I was a child, trying to escape my teachers, I hid in this room. Something led me to the panel, and when I put my hand on it, I felt a chill run through me. I pressed against it in several places until it opened. It leads into the dungeons and through a passageway concealed by a boulder on the outside. I've left the fortress many times without it being known I was gone. Abbadon is not as impenetrable as the Brotherhood believes." Now, she pointed at the door Jaelan had shown her. "Is there a bathing chamber in that room?" "I would imagine so," Sulaimon answered. "Why do you ask?" "I need to...I must..." She looked shyly at the floor. "I..." Sulaimon nodded his understanding, then stepped to the door and rapped. When no one answered, he opened the door and poked his head inside. "I may be a few minutes," she said. "We will wait," the dark man assured her. Once alone, Aradia rushed to the panel Jaelan had described. She put her hands low on the door and the wood slid sideways into the wall, revealing a dark passageway. "There's no need for a light," Jaelan had said. "The floor slants downward to the dungeon, but there's a railing set in the stone. If you ever need to use this escape route, keep your hand on the railing and keep moving down. Once you reach the dead end, put your hand at the base of the wall and you'll feel a stone set slightly farther out than the rest. Press it until it makes a clicking sound, then turn it to the right. The boulder wall will open." Once inside the passageway, Aradia reached above the opening and along a wide ledge until she found the latch that would close the panel. Depressing it as her husband had instructed, she knew a brief moment of panic as the wall slid

shut, throwing her into a darkness blacker than a moonless night. Knowing she had only minutes before Sulaimon became suspicious, she took hold of the railing and began her swift descent. "You'll see a sea chest when you reach the passageway's end," Jaelan had told her. "Inside, you'll find several black robes in different sizes. Over the years, I put them there to facilitate my own disguises once I left Abbadon. They'll be musty, perhaps mildewed, but one is bound to fit you." "But won't someone see me once I'm outside?" she had asked, remembering the guards on duty watching the road into Abbadon. "Merchants mill around the fortress in the hopes of finding travelers who'll buy their wares. Mingle amongst them until you find a man named Fizel. You'll know him by his crooked nose and the braying laugh that sets him apart. Go tell him you wish to rent a horse for the afternoon. He'll ask where you're going. Tell him to the wadi at Hsotem and that you'll be back before his Aunt Vestra can bake a goose." "That's a password, eh, warrior?" "He'll take care of you,aziza ." "Should I ride to Hsotem?" Jaelan had frowned. "If you're making use of the passageway, that will mean I'm not where I can protect you. You're to make for the border as quickly as you can. Fizel will have put enough gold in your saddlebag for you to buy passage to Odess. Once there, book passage to Serenia. It's a neutral country. If I can, I'll come for you. This I promise." Now, as she made her way down the ebon passageway, Aradia refused to think that her husband would not make good on his promise. Her woman's instinct told her Jaelan was in trouble and needed her. A niggling name kept intruding, though she tried to keep it at bay--Uadjit. Upon reaching the dead end, Aradia wasted no time locating the sea chest and finding a robe that felt small and lightweight enough to fit her. She would not know for sure until she opened the boulder wall and let in sunshine. Tossing the robe over her shoulder, she squatted, feeling for the trigger rock. Soon, a blinding shaft of sunlight flooded the passage. She snatched the robe from her shoulder and breathed a sigh of relief that it looked the right size. Ignoring its foul odor, she shrugged the fabric over her clothing and ventured into the harsh desert. Aradia pushed against the stone shaped like a pyramid, as Jaelan had also instructed, and the boulder slid into place. She pulled the hood of the robe close to her face and started around the side of the fortress, toward the sound of raucous voices. Now, she just prayed she could find Fizel. **** The cry of her pet raven awakened Kathleen McGregor. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and rushed to the window. "What is it?" The raven landed on the iron railing and locked its sharp black eyes on her. It cocked its head, then cawed. "How close to Uadjit is she?" At the raven's answer, Kathleen nodded. "What of her friends? Are you still tracking them?" Lifting its wing, the raven craned its throat to peck at a mite. "You can do that anytime!" Kathleen complained. "What of her friends?" A harsh sound, like a human sigh, came from the bird. It shook itself, then returned its beady gaze to Kathleen."Lady, I have needs of my own." Gritting her teeth, Kathleen acknowledged as much. "But you are sworn to me, or did you forget that, Cree?" "Not in a million lifetimes could I."

"Do you know where her friends are?" "On their way to Daedel. They should be there by midday." "And Daedel is how far from Uadjit?" "An hour, as the crow flies," the raven replied, making a chuckling sound. "I must get word to her friends." "What is your bidding, Lady?" "Among those friends of the Amazeen is one like me. Find her and tell her where I am." "You believe she will help free you?" "She will know how. She will find a Sentinel to do the job." "Then I will go now, Lady."The bird sprung into the air, its black wings shimmering. "Wait, Cree!" Banking into the brisk wind, the bird sailed past the railing, its head turned toward its mistress. "Tell the one named Okyale, the one like me, to go first to Uadjit. Jaelan's bondmate will need the help of the Amazeen." She swiped at the tears suddenly coursing down her cheeks. "My Lady, do not cry." Kathleen waved aside the bird's concern. "Do as I ask. They can come after me when things are settled in Uadjit." A piercing caw came from the raven's throat, then it winged toward the West.

Chapter 7 Aluino cursed the Temple Guard sitting astride his back, locking the shackles binding his wrists. Beside him, Tarsis lay on his belly, the old warrior's arms pinned by two burly guards as a third clipped shackles into place around the thick forearms. "Is he alive?" Tarsis asked, humiliated he had walked into a trap. Aluino looked toward Jaelan. "I think so, but he's bleeding badly." Twenty feet away, unconscious and pale, the Shadowlord lay spread-eagle on the ground. "The prophet-be-damned arrow was tipped in Maiden's Briar," Tarsis said from beneath clenched teeth. "He's barely over the first dose the bastards gave him!" "Where's his lady?" Aluino asked. "That'll be the first thing he'll ask when he regains consciousness." "She's safe with Sulaimon." "What the hell's happening?" Aluino asked. "Has Gehenna lost what little mind he has?"

"They're going to send the lad to Ghurn for a year," Tarsis replied. "They're planning something evil so they need to get rid of him for a while." Tarsis grunted as the guards lifted him and Aluino to their feet. Around them, two Death Lords lay dead in pools of blood while others were lashed securely to handy posts and trees. Staggering against the vicious push a guard gave him, Tarsis snarled like a cornered tiger. "Behave yourself, old man," the guard said and guffawed, "or you'll join those two as they make Peace with the Wind." "Murderers!" Aluino hawked a wad of phlegm at the guard's boot. A backward slap of the guard's hand sent the Diabolusian crashing against Tarsis, who stumbled beneath the onslaught. "Riders coming," Tarsis mumbled. Aluino grimaced. "I'll wager that's Hell's spawn, himself, coming to make sure Jaelan is trussed up like a feast goose." "I don't bet on sure things, greaser." At the north end of Uadjit, the villagers stood clustered, their eyes glazed, their mouths slack, still under the spell of Gehenna's Healer's hypnotic control. Nothing registered with them as Temple Guards strolled by, Death Lords cursed, or harnesses jingled as Gehenna and his personal guard rode into the square. The Prelate of Justice sat astride his mount as Sekhem Neter headed toward him. "Everything under control Sekhem?" The Chief Temple Guard looked to where Jaelan lay. "I made sure Ben-Ashaman would not escape." "Did he put up much resistance?" "He knew he was outnumbered," Sekhem bragged. "Liar! You shot him in the back, you sniveling coward!" Aluino shouted, his accusation echoed by the remaining Death Lords. "We were never given a chance to fight!" one Death Lord said. Gehenna laughed. "He'll have plenty of time to fight in Ghurn." He bent over in the saddle. "Have your second-in-command take the Shadowlord's men to Abbadon. On the way, make sure they closely inspect the cliffs at Kharonis." Sekhem smiled brutally. "As you wish, Milord." He nodded toward the villagers. "What of them?" "Put them to the sword. Every man, woman, and child." He searched the crowd. "I do not see the one called Samiel. Where is he?" Fear passed over Sekhem's face. "We've not been able to find him. I'm told he was not in the village when we arrived." "Find him!" Gehenna barked. "I want nothing left alive in this place when we take Ben-Ashaman to Ghurn Colony. I want it put about that he and his men slew the villagers and I ordered the Death Lords executed for daring such evil." "We're not going to live to insult one another again," Aluino said out of the side of his mouth. "You reckon?" Tarsis pulled at the iron manacles that clamped his elbows together and refused to wince at the pain. "Though I have no love for the people of this village, I hate to see them butchered." Aluino looked toward the cache of weapons, taken from him and the Death Lords. "Especially with my own sword!" A groan from Jaelan drew Gehenna's attention. The Prelate of Justice climbed down from his horse, tugging the expensive leather gloves from his hands. He nudged the Shadowlord with his boot. "Are you awake?" he inquired in a pleasant voice. Jaelan's amber eyes opened, closed, then opened again as he struggled to swim his way up through whatever undulating waves of fever had him in steel talons.

Gehenna swept aside his robe and hunkered down. "Do you know where you are?" Jaelan tried to get up, but the effort nearly pushed him over the edge into darkness. His shoulder throbbed unmercifully. Though the arrow had been removed, the iron head had broken off and the wound seeped blood. "I imagine that hurts." Gehenna wiggled what was left of the wooden bolt. The gasp that issued from the Shadowlord's throat seemed to please the Prelate. "Aye, I can see it does." "Another rider," Tarsis said. "Samiel," Aluino sighed. "I had hoped he would not return." Tarsis looked at the younger man. "Is he the rebel contact here?" Aluino shrugged. "You might as well know, since none of us are going to live to tell of it." "By the Prophet's beard," Tarsis said after a low whistle. "I thought the old man hated Jael as much as the rest of the village." "The old man loves his son. It was best the villagers thought he didn't." "And Jaelan is Asim?" "For what good that knowledge will do you, old man." Tarsis sniffed. "The bantling could have told me. I can keep a secret." "He wanted you safe." "Didn't care about you, though, did he?" Tarsis chuckled. "That may be the Shadowlord's sire," Sekhem said, pointing at the billowing dust moving toward them from the East. "Wait until we have him, too, before you set my orders in motion," Gehenna said. "I want Jaelan to witness the deaths of the three he cares for the most, outside the female." A shudder ran through Jaelan. He opened his eyes wide, digging his hands into the hot sand to try to stay awake. In his heart, he knew none of them would survive unless he could fight the poison or bargain with Gehenna. He opened his mouth to speak, but Sekhem Neter's next words shocked him so badly, he nearly pitched into unconsciousness. "That's not the old man," Sekhem gasped. "It's Ben-Ashaman's Amazeen!" **** Aradia rode as fast as the sleek Rysalian stallion could gallop. The animal's powerful muscles, its heavy hoofs and long stride, ate up the distance between her and the village. The closer she got to Uadjit, the deeper the fear grew in her belly. Her hands clenched the reins as she bent forward over the neck of the sleek mount. For the first time in her life, with knees pressing firmly, heels drumming against the sweating flanks, she found herself locked in a battle with destiny and fate. She could make out familiar faces of some of the villagers, but their expressions denied recognition. Only the Temple Guards turned decisive eyes toward her, swords raised to block her entry. "Stand down!" a gruff voice shouted. Aradia realized the order had been given to allow her approach. Reluctantly, Temple Guards moved out of her way, though they glared as she galloped past. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sekhem Neter and knew the man standing beside him must be Gehenna Dakar. Their ill-disguised gloats reminded her of her cat, Bitsy, when it cornered a mouse. She saw Jaelan's men chained and frowned when she also noted Alunio and Tarsis manacled. Then she saw her husband, lying in blood, his wide amber eyes staring at the sky.

"Jaelan!" she screamed. Acting without thought, she sawed brutally on the stallion's reins, bringing him to a rearing stop. His shrill whinny of protest cut through the air along with his flailing hooves. Like a skilled acrobat, Aradia flipped backward from the mount and landed on her feet, knees flexed, hands in front of her. A guard chuckled. "You're just in time to entertain us, wench! Come here and let me show you what a real man can do!" Ignoring the jibe and the coarse male laughter that accompanied it, Aradia ran to her husband's and knelt beside him. His fixed stare broke her heart. She threw herself over his chest, her wail of despair bringing a loud cry of anguish from the restrained Death Lords. The faint movement of breath against her neck broke the grief shattering her heart. Aradia straightened, staring into his pale face. His slow blink became the most precious thing she'd ever seen. "Praise Alluvia!" she whispered, tears flooding her eyes. "I thought you were dead." "He might as well be, you useless woman." Dakar smirked as he made a motion with his hand. "He's lost to you!" A rough hand on her arm yanked her to her feet. She knew an instant of savagery that would have made her ancestors proud. Even as the guard jerked her away from her husband, her free hand, her blade hand, went to the sheath at her hip and came away with gleaming steel. Pivoting on her left foot, she buried the dagger to the hilt in the gut of the man who dared touch her. She ripped her weapon upward in her attacker's belly, spilling the screaming man's innards as she pushed him away, pulling her blade free. Another guard rushed her, howling in agony as her dagger opened a deep gash across his chest. He dropped his sword and fell. A third guard stumbled away minus a hand after Aradia hooked a toe under the fallen guard's sword, kicked it into the air, grabbed the hilt, and made effective use of the bloody weapon with a backward swing. "Take her!" Dakar shouted. "I want her alive!" Five guards rushed forward, eyes blazing, intent on capturing her. Two met the sweeping slash of Aradia's sword, heads rolling beneath the stomping hooves of her mount as the stallion became frenzied by the smell of blood. Another man found himself impaled upon her sword's steel tip, his look of astonishment almost comical. "You're mine, bitch!" the fourth guard promised as he and his partner circled Aradia. Aradia barely noticed as the guard began to levitate. She noted his astonishment, and in her heart, realized someone just as vicious as she dealt with that enemy. Her narrowed gaze went to the fifth guard, nervously licking his lips. "You'd best make your Peace with the Wind, little man," she taunted her opponent, "for you are about to meet the Gatherer." The guard backed away, alternating his twitching gaze from the point of Aradia's dagger to the feet of his partner, disappearing upward and out of sight. He swallowed loudly, seemingly oblivious to the goading of his fellow guards encouraging him to rush Aradia. He made a half-hearted feint here and there, but jumped backward, well away from the negligent swath of the blade aimed at him. "Are you going to fight or run, towel head?" Aradia inquired. The shriek of the elevating man as he slammed earthward broke the fifth guard's courage. He threw down his sword and ran, hopping over his partner's broken body and sprinting into the desert. "Five hundred quilons to the man who brings her down!" Dakar bellowed to the remaining guards. "And her body to you for as long as she draws breath!" Without a second thought, Aradia flipped over her dagger so that the business end pointed toward her and lay expertly in her palm. She released the deadly missile with undeniable accuracy. It sailed through the air, landing with a wet thud in Gehenna Dakar's chest. The evil one dropped to his knees, his hands clawing at his torso.

"No man save the Shadowlord takes me!" Aradia rushed forward and jerked a new blade from the sheath of a dead Temple Guard. "Kill her, Neter!" Dakar mumbled, bloody froth forming on his lips before he pitched face-down into the sand. His eyes wide with fear, Sekhem Neter raised his war maul. But the whisper of a second blade that seemed to materialize out of nowhere made swift passage into his spine. The coward collapsed like a felled bird and shrieked like a young girl. Aradia realized her husband's supernatural power had hurled the blade into Neter's back. She glanced his way as swords and daggers, mauls and caltrops, pikes and crossbows flew through the air like flimsy paper and turned in a whirlwind. Swirling above their heads, the weapons posed a lethal threat to the Temple Guards, now weaponless. Scrambling away from the deadly twister, they pushed one another aside to flee the impending doom. Laughing, Aradia hunkered down beside her husband. She put her trembling hands on his cheeks. "Best cast those weapons far from here, warrior." With the last of his strength, Jaelan flung the weapons miles away into the desert, and with the effort, nearly succumbed to the darkness creeping up on him. "Protect them,aziza ..." "The guards?" Aradia asked. "I'd just as soon--" "My people. Neter's men have been ordered to put them to death. If even one guard remains alive, others will come back and slay every villager." "Be quiet, warrior. You're--" "They're mine to protect, Aradia...thus they areyour duty, as well. See to them, Milady...I've done all I can..." Seeing the worry on his face overrode the fury pulsing through Aradia's heart. Left to her own devices, she would've allowed Dakar's men to slay the villagers. But Jaelan's concern, his fear for those who had shunned him, tugged at her conscience. She looked at the guards slipping steadily toward the villagers. "Stop those guards!" Aradia shouted at the people of Uadjit, who stared with glazed eyes. "Are you not Asim's men? Are you not rebels? Fight for your freedom! Fight for your lives!" "They're under my control!" Healer Hajib Kielos said with a gloating note. He spoke, half-crouching, from the safety of a doorway. "They will not--" Aradia stood to face him, her eyes wide with the fever of battle. Her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides as she took a warning step toward him. Her lips drew back over gnashing teeth, bared like those of a weretigress ready to pounce. "Release your hold on them, or you'll die a thousand deaths before I'm finished with you!" Aradia said. "I'll do nothing of the kind." The Healer crossed his arms over his chest and grinned hatefully. "Then die, you piece of offal!" With the flick of her hand, Aradia hurled her borrowed dagger through the air. With an admonishing pout on his face, the Healer looked down at the blade's handle protruding from his chest, then slid to his ass in the doorway. His large head soon fell to a chest that had ceased to draw breath. "Awake, people of Uadjit!" Aradia shouted. "Save yourselves!" Jaelan tried to gain his wife's attention, but she didn't hear his feeble words over the Temple Guards' war cry as they turned to attack the hapless villagers with their bare hands. He felt consciousness slowing leaving him, and knew if he allowed himself to sink into the black void, the people of Uadjit would be doomed, and perhaps his wife and friends as well. A dark shape shot past Tarsis' line of vision, stunning him. He blinked, flinching, then saw the huge raven land atop the wall beside him. He stared into the bird's beady eyes and found he could not look away. In the space of a

heartbeat, something passed between the bird and the old warrior. Tarsis shuddered, then looked at Aradia. "Milady!" he yelled. "Jaelan's trying to tell you something!" Aradia bent over her husband so she could hear his words. "Command them in the name of the Prophet," he whispered. "Bid them awake in the name of Aleli." His eyelids fluttered and he passed out, blood oozing from the side of his mouth. "No!" Aradia shrieked, fearing she had lost him. Coming to her feet like an avenging angel, she pointed a lethal finger toward the villagers. "Awake, you whoring sons of bitches and worthless dams of dogs! In the name of the Prophet Aleli! Wake and defend yourselves, for I care not if you live or die!" As though coming up from the depths of a bad dream, the villagers appeared to shake off the spell. They stumbled against one another, righted themselves, then seemed to recognize the danger coming at them. With a belated grunt of protest, they met the Temple Guards head-on, attacking them with whatever lay near at hand--hoes and scythes, hammers and axes, loose building stones and chords of wood. They bludgeoned their would-be killers, struck them down, caved in their heads, letting blood flow in horrid fountains. They broke limbs, severed throats, punctured chests in a frenzy of butchery that would likely make them question their sanity later. At that moment, Samiel Ben-Ashaman appeared, gasping for breath, sweat glistening on his face. He rushed to Alunio, struck the shackles from the Diabolusian's arms, and told him to see to Sir Tarsis. "Where were you, old man?" Alunio grumbled, chaffing the bruised flesh of his wrists. "Be glad I arrived at all, warthog." Samiel moved on to the Death Lords, set the first one free, then joined his people in their savage war. "Milady..." Jaelan whispered, his grating voice cacthing Aradia's ear over the din of destruction. "I thought you were dead," she sobbed, touching her lips to his. "I think...I was..." he said hoarsely. The fever had climbed so high, he felt on fire. The poison raced through his veins, his body hovering on the brink of convulsions. He hurt so badly, he clamped his jaws to keep from crying out. "I need...need help,aziza ..." "We've got to get him back to Abbadon," Tarsis said, rushing forward with Alunio. "But they'll still send him to prison," Alunio protested. "What choice do we have?" Tarsis asked. "Would you rather he dies?" "You can not take him back to that vile place," Aradia said. "Lady," Tarsis said, kneeling beside her. "Medicine there will help combat a second poisoning of Maiden's Briar. If he's not given the antidote within the next hour or two, you might be a widow come morning." Aradia looked at Tarsis, then turned her tearful gaze to Alunio. "Can you not ride back for the brew?" "And risk losing time?" Tarsis said. "No, sweeting. We must return him to the fortress if he's to survive." "See that column?" Samiel asked, joining them and pointing toward riders heading their way. "Do you want to wait to see if they're friend or foe?" Aradia, Tarsis, and Alunio looked at the wavering cloud of dust. "We'll take him to Abbadon," Tarsis declared, hefting the unconscious Shadowlord into his arms. "That's the only solution." Aradia sensed the riders advancing were friendly, but couldn't chance her husband's life. With the Temple Guards slain, Dakar, his henchmen Neter, and the Healer standing before the Seat of Judgment, no tales would be taken back

to Abbadon. Jaelan would be as safe as she could make him until they could settle the question of his imprisonment at Ghurn. "Lady, quickly!" Samiel had corralled a mount for her, but she shook her head. "I have a horse." She lifted her fingers to her lips, whistling shrilly for the stallion upon which she had entered the godforsaken village. When the feisty animal trotted obediently to her, she vaulted into the saddle. Samiel mounted the horse he had reserved for her, while Alunio settled on his own stallion, then accepted an unconscious Jaelan from Tarsis. "Don't let him fall," Tarsis ordered. "Look after yourself, old man," Alunio grumbled, cradling Jaelan against him. **** As the four horses galloped out of Uadjit, Sekhem Neter laboriously pulled himself along in the sand. His elbows dug deep with each straining movement. From the waist down, his body lay as dead as a hunk of petrified wood, his useless legs leaving twin furrows on the desert floor. After escaping the wrath of the infuriated villagers as he hid behind a water trough, he struggled to put as much distance between himself and the carnage as his paralyzed body would grant. And with every agonized inch he crawled, he plotted the agonies he would visit upon Aradia Ben-Ashaman when next they met.

Epilogue As taken from the Scrolls of Miraman: "The Shadowlord's woman, Princess Aradia Lykopis of Amazeen, First daughter of the Defense Queen, came to the aid of her husband with all the might of her warrioress ancestry pulsing within her stalwart heart. "Though the might of the Brotherhood of the Domination was allied against the lovers, the Prophet and His Lady wove a web of concern around them. Such would be the cast of the troubles that kingdoms would tremble and the Kings upon their thrones shudder with fear. "I, Kasid, the Talespinner, will continue now with the saga of Lord Jaelan Ben-Ashaman. Be quiet and reverent as I speak: "The Shadowlord was taken back to Abbadon, his body wracked with fever, his wounds opened and oozing liquid that gave off an unpleasant odor. His lady-wife, the courageous Princess Aradia, stayed at his bedside both day and night, taking her meals as she watched each breath he took. As she tended him, she plotted the revenge that would see those who had harmed her lover punished for their transgressions. "It was on the fifth day of his recuperation, that a Death Warrant was sent for the arrest of the Shadowlord's woman..."

Charlotte Boyett-Compo Charlotte Boyett-Compo is the author of more than two dozen novels, the first ten of which are theWindLegends Saga . For nearly three full years, Charlee has remained--first with Dark Star Publications, and now with Amber Quill Press--the company's most popular and best-selling author. She is a member of the Romance Writers of America, the HTML Writer's Guild, and Beta Sigma Phi Sorority. Married thirty-two years to her high school sweetheart, Tom, she is the mother of two grown sons, Pete and Mike, and the proud grandmother of Preston Alexander and Victoria Ashlee. A native of Sarasota, Florida, she grew up in Colquitt and Albany, Georgia, and now lives in the Midwest. Most any fan of electronic books--or fans of dark fantasy and suspense--has at least heard her name mentioned, if not purchased at least one of her many offerings. This prolific author has not only managed to gain multiple nominations and awards for her work, but better still, has built a fan base whose members border on the "fanatical." Currently, Charlee is at work on at least several books in her various series and trilogies.

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