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Her eyes flew open and she sucked in a
deep, loud breath. His heart crashed against his ribcage, thumping frantically
to catch up to hers. She saw him, somehow; she stared directly into his eyes.
Her hand floated toward him, her mouth moving, but he couldn’t hear her.

:Give
me your blood, brightheart, and I’ll hear every—:

Something hard and cold shoved beneath
his chin, snapping his head back so hard that his teeth crashed together. It
flung him back so hard he stared up at the slip of moon again, flat on his back
in the damp sand.

“What is wrong with you?” Gana cursed
and grabbed a handful of
taamid
to
shake him thoroughly. “Are you drunk?”

Mykal caught a flicker of Shadow, a
small gleam of white, and then the presence was gone. Something—or someone—had
warned him off quite effectively. He couldn’t help but laugh. These warriors of
hers would surely give him a beautiful dance.

“Drunk?
Iyeh
, I’m drunk on moonlight.”

He took a quick tally of who still stood
with him: Gana, Nijar, and Asad. She knew the Black Dragon was a
tal
, so Asad couldn’t be used as
camouflage. Nijar might be his best bet, for Gana’s age wouldn’t fool her.

The trader hovered on the edge, his gaze
flickering uneasily from the shouting
tal’Tellan
to Mykal and back, trying to place his bet on the survivor.

“Enough,” Gana growled. “I will lead us
to the Green Lands. You’ve already done enough damage.” He drew his scimitar
and raised it over his head. “Who’s with me?”

Mykal stood, deliberately keeping his
face pleasant and his hands well away from his weapons. For this, he needed no
steel. “Did you know,” he began conversationally, “that this land is
technically part of Far Illione? Indeed, nearly fifty years ago, a great city
stood on this plateau, Nurzhan, their watchtowers guarding against the wilds of
Keldar.”

He’d even walked those golden halls
once, but that was another life, another name, now long dust. “A vast sandstorm
claimed the city, dumping so much sand on top of the buttery stones that the
city was lost. Those lovely Green Lands were swallowed by our sands.”

Gana snorted. “You weren’t even alive
then. How could you know about Nurzhan?”

“Indeed.” Striking like his tribe’s
namesake, Mykal grabbed the man’s hand gripping the scimitar and thrust the
blade into the trader, eliminating his two weakest—or strongest, depending on
whether he won or lost this Dance with her—opponents in one fell swoop.

The Far Illione trader crumpled with
nary a cry. Gana sagged to the sands, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly.

“We’re on Green Land soil,” Mykal said
gently. “You harmed a Green Lander.”

Gana couldn’t speak, but Mykal saw the
question in his wide, panicked eyes. Leaning closer, he whispered into the
dying man’s ear. “I, my friend, am not exactly Keldari.”

Tal’Tellan
fell on his face in the sand. Nijar stared at the dead man and touched his hand
quickly to his forehead, heart, and mouth. “May Somma’s waters cleanse us of
our
devalki
.” Eyes bright with hope,
he reached out and touched Mykal’s damp
taamid
.
“You helped Gana harm the Green Lander, so why aren’t you dead? Has she truly
forgiven you?”

“
Harm
is such a relative term.” Mykal slapped him on the back and winked. “How could
I harm a man who plotted against his High Queen? I did her a favor.”

Shaking his head, he headed back to his
tent to change into some dry clothing so he could squeeze every drop of her
precious fluid directly into his mouth before the cruel sun evaporated it.
Sadly, she had neglected to claw this
taamid
—and
him—to shreds this time, a grievance he would ensure she corrected as soon as
she laid eyes on him.

CHAPTER

SIXTEEN

DRAINED
FROM THE GREAT SEAL’S MAGIC AND SHAKEN MORE THAN SHE COULD DISPLAY BEFORE HER
COUNCIL, SHE WANTED A BATH IN THE HOT SPRING WATER TO CLEAR AWAY THE BLOOD, AND
THEN SHE WANTED TO BE HELD. Sal and Dharman were only too willing to comply.
Now dry and comfortable, she had an arm wrapped around each warrior’s neck, her
hands wound in their hair, and they cuddled her between them in her bed.

She didn’t realize Jorah was gone, until
she felt his bond weigh heavy in her mind. He was coming to her, fast and hard,
with vicious anticipation that quickened her heartbeat with dread. “What has he
done?”

If Dharman knew, he refused to answer.
Even when she tugged on his bond hard enough that he grunted, all he would say
was “Only what you ordered.”

Sitting up, she scooted to the edge of
the bed as the door opened and the golden Blood trotted into the room. He
glowed so brightly that she squinted, forcing her eyes to focus on him.

Jorah knelt and set a lumpy basket
before her. “The task to which you set me has been completed,
na’lanna Qwen
.”

“What task?” Bewildered, she glanced at
the basket. Loosely woven rushes sagged, dark and wet. Her stomach tightened
and she gripped Dharman’s thigh. “What have you done, Jorah?”

He smiled, and it was like she’d never
seen him before. A strange dark light glinted in his golden eyes. He was still
bright, still shining, but he no longer seemed quite so untouched and young. A
hint of darkness clung to him, a subtle cloak about his shoulders that
flickered in the corner of her eyes. “You said you wanted the head of the one
who ordered the twins poisoned.”

She closed her eyes a moment to hide her
dismay, but she knew they all felt her emotions through the bond. She’d never
meant for one of them to hunt down the person who’d sent that poison, not
really. She’d certainly never intended to sit down and open a present, hoping
to find a severed head inside. Lady above, what if she’d said something about
eliminating her entire Council? Would each Blood even now be offering a chopped
body part for her perusal?

“But you made the order!” Jorah’s voice
trembled with anxiety, rising sharply. His eyes shimmered, his lips trembling
on the verge of tears. “Great Vulkar, Dharman, tell her! Tell her I felt her
Call!”

She reached out to comfort him. Shaking,
he buried his face in her lap and clung to her. “On my honor, your very life, I
felt your Call,
na’lanna Qwen
. I only
thought to fill my place at your side, to draw your attention to me in some
small way in hope that you might…”

His voice broke and he clutched her so
hard she couldn’t stifle a groan. “Jorah, I’m not angry, not exactly, but when
word gets out that I’m simply executing my enemies at will… Lady, the nobles
fight me at every turn already, and now I’ve got the Keldari to deal with. I
don’t have time to quell outrage that my own guard is indiscriminately killing
Green Landers. Dharman, what do you know of this?”

“You may have meant the words casually
and not as an order, but when you said you wanted the person’s head who
threatened your children, it felt... different.” Dharman spoke in a hard,
controlled voice—the voice of her First Blood, not the warrior she’d taken to
her bed. “The air felt heavy with your intent, making it difficult for us to
breathe. Jorah felt your words as an order that he should address personally.
Who am I to keep a Blood from terminating anyone who wishes to bring harm to
you in any way?”

“What did this Call feel like?”

“I smelled it,” Jorah replied, his voice
muffled against her. “I felt it in my bones. This is the man who ordered your
children’s food poisoned. When I touched him, I saw him make the order and
recognized the face of the assassin we killed in the hallway that day.”

Her stomach twisted. Gregar had often
said her Call as his mark affected him much the same way. Holding her breath,
she tilted Jorah’s face up and searched his eyes, looking for any hint of
Shadow.

That
Shadow which makes a Death Rider invisible for the kill makes him vulnerable to
other Shadows. Other darkness. Other death.

“Still, I hesitated until this night. I
found this,” he dropped a red bead into her hand, “on the ground and I knew it
was time. Vulkar gave me the sign.”

“A red
kae’al
,” she breathed. Only Death Riders earned the red beads for
their marks in Vulkar’s name, but a Blood never wore
kae’valda
beyond the red
memsha
proclaiming his oath to sacrifice every last drop of blood in his body. Then
again, women weren’t supposed to have Blood. Who knew what sort of warrior
Jorah might have been if she hadn’t chained him to her side before he’d even
won his first honor?

“Chain me,
na’lanna Qwen
.” He stared back at her, composed, now, and so grim
that she felt the temperature drop. “Perhaps I killed too eagerly at the hope
of winning your favor.” He unsheathed his
rahke
and laid it on top of the basket. “My blood is yours. If you ask, I’ll slit my
own throat deeply enough that Dharman may take my head with a flick of his
wrist to redeem my mistake.”

So grim, so hard, so cold, despite the
warmth of his golden eyes and skin. His glowing innocence had been banked by
death.
In my name.

“Nay,
na’lanna
,” Dharman corrected gently. “For your love.”

She stared back at Jorah, trying to sort
through her feelings, his, and the rest of her Blood. Rhaekhar had always known
her heart must be shared, but had he known so many warriors would vie for her
attention? Some women were wooed with pretty phrases or sweets, but Jorah had
set out to kill for her.

Face twisted with emotion, eyes blazing
even while darkness hovered about his shoulders, he plead in anguish, “
Na’lanna Qwen
—”

She turned her head to Dharman. “What’s
my name?”

A flicker of surprise shot through his
eyes, but he replied immediately. “Shannari.”

“Tonight, I’m only Shannari, not
na’lanna Qwen
, High Queen of the Green
Lands, Khul’lanna, nor the holder of your bonds, but merely a woman who loves
you. A woman who is quite afraid that we’re all going to die on the morrow, and
I refuse to go to Vulkar’s Clouds without showing you how much you mean to me.
Do you understand?”

“Aye, Shannari.”

Sal repeated the same.

She turned her attention to Jorah still
kneeling before her. The cloak of wavering shadows had disappeared, leaving
behind the gleaming golden Blood.

“It’s an honor to serve…Shannari.”

“Honor has no hold on my heart, Jorah. I
don’t want you to
serve
. Do you—”

“Aye, I love you,” he whispered
hoarsely. “I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you drilling so fearlessly with
the Shadowed Blood. Think you Varne could have faced Gregar so confidently? Let
alone you, an outlander woman, especially when we all knew what tempted him to
Shadow. If you ask, my answer is always aye.”

She tried to smile, but tears blurred
him into a golden halo. “I’m asking you, then, to join me in bed, my Blood.”

The largest smile she’d ever seen on his
face flashed like rays of sunlight through a hole in the heavens. Reverently,
he breathed, “Vulkar, may He sire many foals. Aren’t you even going to look
inside the basket?”

Sal and Dharman looked at each other and
burst into laughter.

“Lew, could you get rid of my...
present?” With a smile, the Blood immediately picked up the basket and gave it
to Jahne at the door. She shifted deeper into the bed. “It was the new Duke of
Pella, right? He was trying to live up to his predecessor’s title of the Duke
of Cups.”

Jorah crawled onto the foot of the bed
and paused, his hands hovering over her ankles. “Aye.”

“What's wrong? You seem so... shocked...
that I finally asked.”

He shot a pleading look at Sal, of all
people, and not Dharman.

“We feared we’d all die virgins,” Sal
admitted. “At most, I thought you might take Dharman, I prayed you might take
me, but beyond that…” He shrugged and managed to look sheepish. “You’re not a
woman to open your heart easily,
na’lanna
,
Shannari,” he amended, “and we all knew your heart must fall first before we’d
ever have your body to treasure, which only made us love and yearn all the
more.”

She blinked back tears, unsure whether
to rail at them for not telling her of these fears and years of agony she’d put
them through, or to curse at herself because they were absolutely right. She
was supposed to be Our Blessed Lady’s Daughter, Her shining gift of Love in
this world, and instead, she’d been stingy with her love for these warriors
who’d die to keep her safe.

Dharman used his bond, his touch unsure
in a way he hadn’t acted in years.
:As
First Blood, I should have acted for their sake and yours. I should have asked
permission to discuss it openly with you and your mate. Forgive me,
na’lanna
, Shannari. My hesitation then only makes
you feel worse now.:

:If
you’d asked to speak to me about it, I would have shut you out, the same way I
shut you out one hundred times before.: