Allegiance Sworn (26 page)

Every gasp, every spasm, every dig of her fingernails into his skin prolonged his enjoyment of the moment, her passionate response just as unrestrained as his own a few minutes ago, an astonishing gift of trust and vulnerability.

Considering the challenge she’d issued earlier, he’d expected only one victor in their battle, but somehow, sometime in the last hour, the stakes had changed. Their shared desire proved more fulfilling and satisfying than any competition.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, although he doubted she heard him. She still writhed, consumed by the receding waves.

He gentled his strokes, letting her movements guide the pressure and strength of his touch, prolonging her pleasure for as long as she could tolerate.

Another kiss, and a nip of her bottom lip with his teeth. She gasped again, and another flood of moist heat coated his fingers. He soothed the bite with his tongue. Her flavor was unique, sweet and light, rich and addictive. He savored it and her uncontrollable shuddering.

Slowly, Arek drew back, memorizing the way their lips clung together until the last moment before parting, the wet heat a slick reminder of the pleasure they’d shared.

Imhara placed her head into the curve of his shoulder, her breath fast and ragged against his skin. Her arms slid from his waist to link loosely around his neck. He was tempted to pull her in against him, to cradle her closer still, but was reluctant to break the moment.

Long minutes passed before she lifted her head and opened her eyes. Her cheeks remained flushed a deep rosy hue.

“You like to tease.” Her tongue darted out to lick the taste of him from her lips.

“So do you,” he replied. With a last, lingering caress, he withdrew his hand, earning a soft moan of protest, one that brought a smile to his lips. “Greedy, too.”

“Guilty as charged.” She issued a contented sigh, her violet gaze sparkling. “It’s been awhile since I’ve sought such pleasure.”

Her honest admission left him speechless and wondering why. Surely she hadn’t been lacking for lovers. With another sigh, this one more resigned, she rolled away from him, then pushed to her feet.

He propped himself on an elbow. “Where are you going?”

“As much as I’m enjoying our time together, I think Rassan has waited long enough.”

Arek shot a glance at the curtained exit. “He’s out there?” A dull flush colored his cheeks.
Na’Chi
hearing was almost as acute as the
Na’Reish
. The thought extinguished any lingering desire. “All this time?”

“No.” Her head shake accompanied low laughter. “Just the last few minutes.”

“How do you know?”

“I can smell the food I ordered earlier.” She headed for the chest next to her bed. After tossing his clothes on the bed, she lifted the lid and dug around inside it, pulling out some of her own. “He’d ensure our privacy by delivering it himself rather than allow anyone else access to the pavilion.”

A swift yank and she’d stripped out of her shirt. Arek stared at the lean lines of her back. The spotted markings trailing down either side of her spine were a stark reminder of her heritage. Until that moment, he’d forgotten she was
Na’Reish
.

As she shimmied out of her breeches, he saw the trails continued along the backs of her legs, fading in color by the time they reached her ankles. His body warmed with awareness, more ensnared than repulsed.

Imhara tugged on a new pair of breeches.

Why was she changing?

Realization dawned.

“Is Rassan eating in here with you?”

She paused tucking her shirt in and peered over her shoulder at him, one dark eyebrow lifting, her gaze intent. “And if I said he was?”

A soft question underlaced with steel.

Also a timely reminder that he’d agreed to play a role—had
chosen
to play—and she did what she had to protect her people and expected nothing less of those around her.

Arek glanced at the curtained exit again, more than a little uncomfortable with Rassan being present in the room with them. While the
Na’Chi
might be aware of their mutual attraction—he’d certainly have no trouble scenting it in the air—was there any need for him to witness the evidence smeared over his body?

He fisted a hand. As uneasy as he felt, and as distasteful as the role might be, Rassan’s presence was neither life threatening or dangerous.

He’d chosen to place his trust in his heart.

And in Imhara.

Pride shouldn’t get in the way of his goal. Nor did he want to disappoint her. Again.

With a steadying breath, Arek rolled to his feet and returned to kneel at the foot of her bed, head down, hands resting on his thighs.

The silence stretched out; an eerie repeat of earlier this evening.

A bare foot appeared in his side vision, then Imhara crouched in front of him. Her fingers threaded through his hair, gently tugging his head up. Her gaze gleamed.

“Your faith in us is humbling, Arek.” Her fingers grazed his temple, then his cheek and jaw in a caress. “Rassan stays only long enough to deliver the food.” A softly delivered promise. Her slow smile tightened his chest, left him soaring high like a wind-drifter again. “Then the rest of the night is ours.”

* * *

IMHARA
cast one last glance over her shoulder, a small smile curving her lips at the sight of Arek sprawled in her bed. While they’d started out side by side, sometime during the night he’d shifted in his sleep until he lay on his stomach, one arm stretched out to the side, the other over his head to curl under the pillow. She liked the way the cover had slipped to wrap around his waist, leaving his bare shoulders exposed.

Sighing, she regretted even a minute’s absence from his side and hoped whatever Rassan disturbed her sleep for wouldn’t keep her away from him too long. She wanted to be with him when he woke.

To explore their new relationship. And to confront the fear that would come with that awareness. His, and her own.

After his astounding choice earlier in the evening, they’d shared a meal, but one where he’d insisted on carrying out his role as
Na
Kaal’s slave, a companionable period of time, yet she hadn’t pushed him for the reason for his transformation, content to watch him perform the most menial of tasks. While he didn’t seem entirely comfortable, his demeanor reflected a more purposeful intent, a dogged commitment that hadn’t been evident before.

A victory of sorts but she was under no illusion that when Arek woke he’d see his decision and actions in a new light, possibly one of capitulation. How would he react toward her? Would he reject what had happened? Would it be one pace forward, three back?

She hoped not because she’d thoroughly enjoyed every minute. A stolen moment in time and one she anticipated revisiting now that Arek had finally acted on their attraction. If they could share such incredible pleasure with just a few kisses and touching, what would it be like if they went further?

A soft throat clearing reminded Imhara that Rassan awaited her. Snatching up a cloak to ward off the cool night air, she stepped through the curtain her Second held open and headed for the far side of the pavilion, where any conversation wouldn’t disturb Arek’s sleep.

The pungent scent of burning oil hung in the air. The single night lamp set on her worktable cast long shadows across the rug, but the lack of light couldn’t hide Rassan’s tired expression as he made his way toward her.

He was still dressed in warrior leathers, the same ones from yesterday’s trek. Had he even been to bed yet?

“Apologies for waking you so late in the night.” His expression was more somber than usual, the flecks in his eyes glowing almost a silver gray. “But I didn’t think this could wait.”

Smothering a yawn, Imhara scrubbed her hands over face. “You wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t something important.”

“This is unconfirmed and I intend on investigating this personally, tomorrow, when the
Na’Hord
enter the fortress to train in the arena . . . discreetly, of course. . . .”

She frowned. What had Rassan so disturbed that he’d open with such a long-winded explanation? He was usually much more direct.

“Go on.”

“Jawn and some of the others were collecting water from the river. They spent some time there, catching up with other slaves from the Clans.”

Not so unusual. The Enclave was a chance for humans to mix while attending their daily chores. It was as close to free time and socializing as a slave could get.

“He overheard some troubling information.” His dark lips thinned and the flecks in his eyes expanded. “One of the other slaves mentioned that a larger-than-usual number of
Na’Hord
accompanied their Clan this year. He complained about the increased workloads, supplies needed, and such.”

“The Games attract many would-be champions.”

Rassan shook his head. “Not this many, if the slave’s account is to be believed. There’s no way the Games could cater for this number.”

“How many are you talking about, then?”

“The slave came from the Morda Clan.” Rassan’s large hand rested on the hilt of the dagger at his waist. “He told Jawn that
Na
Morda brought almost two thousand
Na’Hord
with him this year.”

“Two thousand?”

“It gets worse. He thinks there’s another thousand from the northern Vos, and the Itha have nearly three thousand.”

“That’s six thousand
Na’Hord
. All here at the fortress?”

His hard nod warned her there was more. “Jawn says it’s rumored that every Clan was ordered to mobilize their full
Na’Hord
.”

She grunted. “Every Clan but ours.”

“It seems so.”

“Where are they camped?”

“Outside the western wall of the fortress. I tried to confirm this tonight once Jawn made his report.” Here Rassan’s knuckles whitened around the pommel of his dagger. “The watch on the fortress wall denied me egress at either of the western towers. The same occurred when I took my
Vorc
out for a hunt in that direction. There’s an extensive perimeter set out in the forest.”

“If all Clan
Na’Hord
are being called in and sequestered here at the fortress, then it lends credence to Meelar’s claim that Savyr
is
planning an imminent attack on human territory.” Imhara chewed on her bottom lip. “But why has he excluded us from this missive, these preparations?”

“We are one of the smallest Clans.”

“Technically we’ve sworn fealty to the
Na’Rei
. Our
Na’Hord
is his to call on in times of war.”

Commander Veht had never mentioned his father’s plans for Enclave other than in general terms. While he’d been on a slave raid, travelling through her lands to human territory, he couldn’t claim that as an excuse for not knowing. Not when it took time to organize and mobilize a Clan
Na’Hord
. Even a second son would be privy to such information, particularly when he’d likely be leading his own warriors into battle once he returned.

She’d also spoken briefly to
Na
Sharadan just that afternoon. About the Enclave. The Games. Trade. Familial alliances. Slave caravans. Bandits. The weather. All topics touched on, but again, nothing about a war missive or a request to activate and assemble his
Na’Hord
.

“We’ve been kept ignorant of these plans for a reason. Savyr had the perfect opportunity to talk to me about this today. He didn’t,” she murmured. “Something as newsworthy as war would spread through the ranks like wildfire. Yet all we have are a few snippets of conversation from a slave or two.” She shook her head. “I don’t like this at all. We need to find out more.”

“Agreed.” The flecks in Rassan’s eyes were a solid green. “I’ll inform everyone tomorrow morning and warn those going into the fortress to listen for information.”

“Caution them not to query directly.” Foreboding scraped a cold claw across the back of Imhara’s neck. “If word hasn’t trickled down through the ranks about this, then it’s because Savyr’s threatened others to keep quiet. We’re lucky to have even heard of this through one of Jawn’s contacts.”

Why would Savyr exclude her
Na’Hord
from this marshaling of his army? A question Imhara racked her brain to find an answer for and came up blank.

She frowned. “I want to know as much as I can about this gathering of the
Na’Hord
before the Enclave. Send someone to the Traders Market. Make up some excuse about looking for a slave with bookkeeping skills. It’s the closest building on the western side of the fortress, and the only one tall enough to overlook the keep wall.”

“I’ll arrange for Barrca to visit tomorrow,” Rassan said. “He can take Cavaan with him. Sometimes a slave can venture where a Clan member cannot.” He snorted softly. “You know, you could always confront Savyr and ask.”

Imhara gave a short laugh. “I think we’ve already used our quota of luck with him. There’s also Sere Jirri’s visit tomorrow.” She made a sound at the back of her throat. “I wasn’t looking forward to it at all, but perhaps meeting with him may prove beneficial after all.”

Chapter 30

A
REK
woke, rousing straight from sleep to hyperalertness, wondering what had disturbed him. Propping himself up on an elbow, a quick scan of the dimly lit room revealed nothing.

The sound of voices and laughter beyond the canvas wall of the pavilion caught his hearing. Although muffled he thought he recognized at least one.

Barrca. Sentries completing a patrol. If the
Na’Chi
scout was on duty, then it was just after dawn. Their voices faded away toward the front of the tent. With the puzzle solved, Arek dropped his gaze to the figure curled up under the covers beside him.

Imhara.

She lay on her back, her head turned toward him on her pillow, one arm tucked under the covers, the other resting on the top over her stomach. The neckline of her shirt lay unlaced. Sometime during sleep it’d pulled to the side, exposing the spotted expanse of her neck and one shoulder and the upper curve of a breast.

She’d left her dark hair bound, yet several strands had worked their way loose during the night. His fingers twitched to reach out and smooth them back from her cheek, but he resisted, unwilling to wake her, not yet ready to face her scrutiny, knowing she’d want to address what had happened between them last night.

Last night.

He fisted a hand in the covers, unable to stop the sequence of events from playing through his mind, from the gut-wrenching confrontation with Savyr through to the surreal moments of passion.

His and hers.

What had he done?

His heart thudded faster, and he tensed, expecting the customary rush of guilt and doubt. He could feel it, hovering like a scavenger in the shadows, but something else held it at bay. Something he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

From his past emerged the memory of the day he and Kalan had taken the Light Blade oath in the
Lady’s
Temple. After nearly a dozen years of tutoring, training, and testing, he’d approached and knelt at the altar where the
Temple Elect
waited to hear him swear allegiance to the
Lady
.

His voice might have broken once or twice as he’d uttered the oath. At the conclusion of the ceremony, when the
Chosen
had placed the sun amulet around his neck, he’d looked out over the faces of the congregation, to those he’d sworn to serve, and felt such a lightness of spirit yet also anxious anticipation for what the future would bring. Adrenaline had only intensified those sensations.

Those same emotions filled him now. He didn’t understand why Imhara Kaal had been able to provoke them, but his decision to trust her instead of second-guessing or doubting himself felt right. It had last night and it still did now.

“Such a serious expression . . . one much too somber for a dawn awakening.” Imhara’s sleep-husky voice drew him from his thoughts. Violet eyes watched him through half-closed lids. “Regretting last night?”

“Doesn’t my scent betray me?”

She reached out to smooth her fingers across his jaw. The nerves beneath his skin tingled at her light touch. “I’d rather you tell me.”

If he hadn’t been watching her, he’d have missed the flicker of nervousness that darted through her gaze. His response concerned her that much? Or was she having second thoughts?

There was only one way to find out.

“Regret, no. Instinct says I should.” He gave a wry smile. “But how much of a fool would I be to let lies rule my behavior?”

Imhara tilted her head a little, a frown creasing her brow. She shifted onto her side, sliding an arm beneath her pillow to plump it, to use as a prop for her chin. “What lies, Arek?”

Grimacing, he sat up and scrubbed a hand over his face. In the silence, the rasp of his hand over his stubbled jaw was loud. He’d already committed to sharing some of his past with her last night. While his world might have been turned upside down, one thing hadn’t changed.

He still hated Savyr Gannec and he still wanted the demon dead.

“Something you said last night made me realize my whole life has been based around a lie.” Unsurprisingly his voice sounded rough.

“This something was what hurt you?” He gave a quick nod and heard her sudden intake of breath. “I’m sorry.”

Sincerity rang through in her apology. He hesitated, waiting for more questions, expecting her to push. But she didn’t and it made it easier to keep going.

“You shared with me the story of how you coped with the death of your family and the choices you made stepping up into your father’s role.” So many thoughts, and images, and memories filled his head. He grunted softly. “Vengeance twists a torturous path.”

“Do you mean Savyr?”

“Savyr. My grandfather. Me.” To understand him, to put together the puzzle that was his life, he was going to have to give Imhara all the pieces. His breath left his lungs in one long, drawn-out expulsion. “Up until Annika’s appearance at Sacred Lake, the
Na’Chi
were considered a myth. I uncovered a historical journal that revealed the
Na’Reish
and humans once lived together, and that any union between our two races produced Gifted children. The revelation was shocking.”

Imhara nodded. “As it would be, considering the length of time of we’ve all been at war. I’d wondered at your response after you read my ancestor’s journal. While you questioned the blood-bond, you didn’t seem at all surprised with the idea of our races mixing.”

“What disturbed the Blade Council more was discovering that some of the Councilors already knew about this, some from the present and the past, and that they’d withheld this information from everyone for generations. My grandfather was one of those Councilors.”

“Oh, Arek!”

“Davyn was good at keeping secrets.”

Derision soured his tone, but it was aimed more at himself than his grandfather, for his inability to suspect anything was amiss.

“Annika and I never found out we were all related until Davyn tried to kill her in his apartment. A picture weaving of my mother hung on the wall in a room he’d forbidden me to ever enter. Once we saw the hanging we discovered just how alike she and Annika were. Prior to then, I had no memory of her face and he never showed the weaving to me.

“I believed my mother’s death justified his desire for revenge. Growing up I never questioned why he was so embittered.” He dropped his voice to mimic the man who’d raised him.
“‘Train hard, listen to your instructors, be the best! Avenge injustice with the blade of your sword!’”

Arek swallowed against a tight throat. How many times had he heard that lecture at breakfast before he headed off to the training grounds?

“I always thought Davyn wanted me to live up to my parents’ reputation as Light Blade warriors. I suppose that was part of it, but after the Councilors’ duplicity was exposed, I questioned his motives.” The memories came fast, so vivid it was like they’d happened yesterday instead of months ago. “When I saw my mother’s image hanging on the wall in his apartment, there was no doubt why he wanted Annika dead. The shame of having a half-blood grandchild was too much for him. Another secret he had to conceal.”

Davyn’s humiliation had been his for weeks afterward, the emotion mocking, eating away at his innards as his family’s reputation faced the scrutiny of others. Despite that, Arek attended every day of his grandfather’s trial. Before the new Blade Council, Davyn’s actions to conceal the past were revealed through his own testimony and the statements of others.

Arek rubbed the center of his chest. Every secret uncovered had felt like a dagger thrust into his heart. “There was no honor in what he did.”

Nor could he reconcile the man he’d grown up loving and respecting as the one standing defiantly silent as judgment had been passed. No remorse, no sign of regret, no attempt at an apology for anything he’d done, just contempt and bitter disgust burning in his gaze as he was led away to be imprisoned.

Arek stiffened as Imhara’s arms slid around him from behind, one hand coming to rest over his heart, her chin on his shoulder, her breasts pressing against his spine.

He tried to shrug her off but she held on. “I don’t want your sympathy.”

“I’m not offering any.” A soft retort, close to his ear. “Don’t you think I know what betrayal and deceit feels like? Treachery has shaped both our lives.”

Her reminder vibrated with old pain. He pressed his palm over her hand on his chest in mute apology.

“Yet you chose hope, while I embraced hatred.” He forced the words out. “All my life I’ve let it consume me, and I’ve allowed others to encourage it. Then to learn it was all based around lies . . . How do I reconcile a life wasted serving the
Lady
for the wrong reasons?”

He shuddered and her arms tightened around him.

“Now I begin to understand.” Her lips pressed against the top of his shoulder. “A life serving the
Lady
is never wasted, Arek. You may think you strayed from
Her
tenets, but
She
knows your heart.
She’d
have guided you on your journey, regardless of the influences in your life.”

Imhara shifted, sliding around to sit beside him, her hands reaching for him, her fingers twining through his. Her violet gaze linked with his, steady, somber yet strong.

“When our paths twist or turn and we lose sight of the ground ahead, I like to think
She
walks beside us, nudging us in the right direction.” A small, warm smile shaped her lips. “I also believe sometimes
She
places people in our way to help us on that journey. Think about who you’ve met on yours—Annika, the other
Na’Chi
, your friend Varian, my Clan. . . .”

Her words reminded him of the conversations he’d had with Kymora, particularly in the months following Davyn’s betrayal. He hadn’t listened to his friend then, too consumed by anger and confusion.

“Our journeys intersected because
She
knew we needed one another.” Imhara’s smile reached her gaze. “And I’m awed and thankful your courage to trust me last night was stronger than your desire to hate. A weaker person would have taken the easier path.”

Like so many of the other Blade Councilors, past and present.

Like his grandfather.

A shiver slithered down Arek’s spine. He’d come so close to choosing that path.

“I don’t want to end up like Davyn.”

“You won’t.” She pressed her lips against his knuckles. “You value honor and integrity. You serve and protect others. You’ve made mistakes, but you’ve chosen to learn from them.”

So direct.

A trait he’d always appreciated and respected, even in the enemy; although he didn’t know what Imhara was to him now, he couldn’t class her as an adversary anymore.

“
Lady
willing, we’ll bring Savyr down, Arek.” Her fingers tightened around his, her touch warm and welcome, a sensation that settled around his heart. “Together.”

* * *

“LOT
seven! Five fine slaves, three male, two female!”

The deep-chested voice of the auctioneer carried clearly over the hum of the crowd to where Imhara sat with other
Na’Reishi
. The raised wooden stands allowed those of rank to escape the crush and odor of the sweaty bodies standing in the packed cobblestoned square.

“These humans have been brought all the way from the High-Ranges Province in the far north. Strong, young, and some of the best breeders brought across the border in years!”

Imhara hid her grimace at the livestock reference, but the slaves, presented in simple tunics, groomed and oiled, provided a much-needed diversion.

For Sere Jirri. Not her.

The brawny warrior’s voice cut off midsentence as his attention shifted to the auction platform. Every time a new lot came onto the stage, his distraction gave her a reprieve from their conversation, although the word could hardly be used to describe what they’d been doing for the last hour.

A discussion required interaction, a two-way dialogue on a variety of topics. But in typical male
Na’Reishi
fashion, the older warrior assumed his command, numerous military campaigns, and stable of
Na’Hord
challengers for the Games were of more importance than expecting any deep and meaningful commentary from her.

Beginning her own conversation or making comments about the increased number of
Na’Hord
warriors present for the Games, hoping it might lead to information about Savyr’s hidden army, resulted in a change of subject. Questions were completely ignored or deflected. If this was his strategy for impressing a potential mate, it was no wonder he remained unattached.

“I’ll take any bid!” The auctioneer swept his staff in an arc as wide as his smile, inviting not only the
Na’Reishi
to participate but the lower classes, mostly all Clan
Na’Hord
, standing in front of him.

A rattle of stones on wood came from Imhara’s left. The
Na’Reishi
male, a trader by the fine cut of his clothes, sat on the edge of his seat, close to the stand railing. Several small azure gems sparkled in the sunlight in a shallow wooden bowl attached to the railing.