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:I
saw Shadows and thought it was Gregar. Is he a Death Rider?:

:Not
exactly.:

Varne squeezed tighter, breaking her
concentration. “Do you remember now, Shannari? You left the Plains and became
High Queen as you were always supposed to do, but what about me? What am I
supposed to do now that my Khul is gone?”

“So you decided to become a Death
Rider.” Her voice rasped from the pressure of his hand, but she didn’t fight
him. Wrapping her fingers around the
rahke
,
she drew it slightly, waiting for the opportunity. “Did you think you could
take Gregar’s place?”

Varne snarled and his hand convulsed so
hard the world went black. She struggled involuntarily. Air, she needed air.
Desperate, she unsheathed the
rahke
and plunged it into his side. His breath whooshed out and he shuddered, sagging
on top of her. Not an improvement.

She jerked the blade higher until it
snagged on a rib. Hot wetness flooded her hand.

“I always thought you’d damaged Gregar.”
Varne spoke normally, his voice only slighter tighter with pain. He didn’t try
to defend himself, but he did loosen his fierce grip on her throat enough that
she sucked in a deep lungful of air. “You destroyed his honor by interfering
with his duties as Blood. You put Rhaekhar in a difficult situation that
negatively impacted his defense. Yet both of them loved you too much to care.”

“What do you want from me?”

He lowered his head so she felt his
breath feathering across her face. “I want…”

Her internal alarms blared with urgency,
her stomach twisted with nausea. She felt Dharman slowly and methodically
edging nearer, hand outstretched, body low, searching for the Shadows that hid
her. Meanwhile, the floor rumbled beneath her because two dragons were turning
her Palace into rubble.

I don't have time for this.

“I want to be Blood again.”

If she’d had any air to spare, she would
have laughed.
That’s it? That’s all he
wants?

“Ask Drendon…”

“Nay,” Varne retorted. “He’s not my
Khul.”

 
“Me? You want to be my Blood?”

“Why not? You took the savage as Blood,
didn’t you?”

“Mykal’s not exactly Blood.” She shifted
her grip on the
rahke’s
slippery
hilt. The last wound hadn’t even made Varne blink. He might not be a Death
Rider, but he certainly appeared to be as difficult to kill. “He’s my lover who
happens to have a blood bond with me.”

“I don’t want to be your lover.”

She fought not to laugh at the thinly
veiled disgust in his voice. Varne had never liked her. The thought of him
wanting her that way was laughable, but so was the idea of him becoming her
Blood. Even when she’d challenged him, he’d been unable to—

Stunned, the thought made her mouth fall
open. “You can’t do it.”

His breathing grew labored, a fetid pant
against her face that made her gag. He smelled of fear and loathing, a sharp
bitterness that had festered in him all these years. “This time, I shall.”

It sounded like he was trying to
convince himself, not her. “How long has the Endless Night whispered to you?”
Her voice was breathy and weak, which might act in her favor. Deliberately, she
let her tense muscles tremble.

“I won’t kill you.” Yet he adjusted his
grip on her throat to press the
rahke
on her main artery. “I just need a taste. That’s all my Khul gave me.”

“He was my Khul too,” she whispered,
letting tears pool and stream down her face. “I miss him, don’t you?”

Varne shuddered and he accidentally
nicked her. “Aye.”

He jerked his gaze up to her face, and
she swore he was horrified. His eyes were wide, his nostrils flaring with each
breath, the veins pounding in his temples.

“Would Rhaekhar want you to do this?
Taking blood against my will is akin to raping me. Is that what you truly want
to do?”

He shook his head, but his eyes rolled
wildly, his fingers clamping her windpipe shut. “I must be Blood. If I’m not
Blood, I’m a killer. I don’t want to kill you!”

:Send
him to me, my heart.:
Rhaekhar’s bond seared her mind.
:Put him out of this misery and let
Vulkar—and me and Gregar—deal with him.:

“Let me help you,” she rasped, blinking
away the darkness so she could see his face. “It doesn’t have to be this way.”

Wetness dripped on her face. Varne was
crying. That scared her more than anything. Until he sat up, straddling her,
and deliberately trapped her right arm beneath his knee. The look that came
into his eyes now made her skin crawl. He looked at her as though he’d just
realized she was a woman and he wondered what she’d look like without clothing,
but she knew he didn’t look at her for sex.

It was her blood and the promise of what
her death might mean if he sank deep enough into Shadow to accomplish it.

She sharpened her voice. “Our Khul is
ashamed of you, Varne. He doesn’t want you to do this.”

“He shared you with Gregar. He would
have shared you with the lads, too. Why should I be any different? I don’t want
your body, merely your bond.”

“You don’t want me. You’ve never wanted
me.”

Darkness spread in Varne's eyes. Shadows
thickened about him, obscuring his face except for his eyes, those dark burning
pits of hatred. “You never respected me. Even now, you won’t give me your blood
freely. You force me to take it. Perhaps I should take your life after all. At
least then you’d be with Rhaekhar again. Aye, you’d be with him and Gregar, and
Dharman would know what it’s like to be First Blood of a dead Khul’lanna.”

Gathering her will, she shoved icy water
straight at him. She knocked him off her, tumbling head over heels to land flat
on his back. Without waiting for him to recover, she scrambled to her feet,
grabbed the black
rahke
, and slammed
it into his eye. He howled, heels drumming on the tile, drenched in her holy
waters. She dunked more of the Silver Lake on him, pinning him flat, but still
he fought, snarling, his face twisted with hatred.

“You can’t kill me! I’m a Death Rider at
heart, even if I wasn’t granted the ivory
rahke
.
A Death Rider was destined to kill you. Gregar failed, but I won’t! I won’t!”

He swiped at her with his
rahke
, but she dodged the blade and
unsheathed the ivory
rahke
.

It burst into light so brightly that
Varne threw up his arm to shield his face. Light burned through the Shadows and
Dharman let out a relieved shout.

Tears burned her eyes.
At last, the
ivory
rahke
shines for me again.

:Use
me,:
Gregar purred in her mind, dark velvet and strong, syrupy caffe. His scent
filled her nose and she cried harder.
:Let's
slit his throat ear to ear with my
rahke
,
and then let Dharman take his head. That will silence his venom.:

Cold wrapped around her back, a welcome
shadowy weight. Varne struggled up, swinging and cursing, but his blade crashed
into a wall of darkness that he couldn’t penetrate.

Gregar laughed in her mind and she could
almost see his muscled arm locked firm to hold the
rahke
away.
:No steel shall
ever touch you when I have your back.:

Pity filled her, not anger. Varne had
never been able to see past his hatred. “I should have killed you when Rhaekhar
died.”

With a grimace, she slit his throat and
jumped aside from the spray of blood.

Dharman brushed past her, his footfalls
silent, his teeth bared with fury. He crouched and slammed his fist on the
black hilt, driving it deeper into Varne’s skull.

Varne gurgled. “I could have been her
nearest Blood.”

Dharman yanked the
rahke
free, grabbed a handful of hair, tilted Varne’s chin back,
and began to saw at his neck. “Over my dead body.”

CHAPTER

TWENTY
FIVE

WITH
BRIGHTHEART’S BLOOD IN HIS VEINS AND HER BOND TO GROUND HIM, HE REMAINED MYKAL
IN HIS MIND, EVEN THOUGH THE BLACK DRAGON CLAIMED HIS BODY. Evenly matched, the
other dragon fought viciously, reveling in destruction and mayhem. Her Palace
was nearly destroyed, thanks in part to his determined entrance through the
roof. Scrambling talons tore the marble tiles, massive beasts crushing them to
powder, tails and wings knocking supporting columns aside like kindling.

A person screamed and ran along the
shattered wall instead of remaining hidden. Asad could not resist such
temptation. The beast snagged the man in his jaws and snapped through his
spine, shaking his head until body parts flew in all directions. The dragon
threw his head back and laughed, which for a Black meant plumes of acid and smoke
boiled to the heavens.

Taking advantage of the uplifted head,
the red-haired Blood ran in beneath the big dragon and slashed at his throat.
Asad carelessly flicked Sal aside like a gnat and scrambled after him. With a
roar, Mykal crashed into the other dragon, using his shoulder like a battering
ram. They reared back, slashing at each other with front claws, necks winding
and writhing, trying to land a decent bite.

Their poisoned Fire wouldn’t hurt each
other. They were evenly matched in size and skill. Asad had no hesitation in
killing or destroying everything in sight, while Mykal felt the growing
weakness in Shannari’s bond.

Something had happened. Something of
Shadow. He couldn’t let the thought distract him, but a corner of his mind
listened frantically to her bond. Only when he felt her enter the broken
chamber with her big Red at her back did he relax that concern and concentrate
fully on his opponent.

They had to kill him, get that ring off,
and destroy it. How, he didn’t know. If Asad had been able to find it buried in
the lost city ruins, then the ring might possess the ability to attract
Shadowed minions. Mykal feared sending it on the fastest Xyan ship he could
find to the depths of the deepest hole in the ocean wouldn’t stop the next
enemy from finding and using it against her.

:Brightheart.:
Her
bond shone in his mind, soft, sweet pearly light in his blackest heart, a
priceless gift after centuries of Shadow.
:Tell
Sal to be ready to cut off the talon holding the ring.:

She didn’t reply, but he felt her clear,
pure water flowing through their bond. Even weakened and battered by some other
battle, she still sent her strength to him. She still healed him, even when she
tottered on her feet.

Sal gave a nod and moved closer, warily
keeping an eye on both Blacks.

Mykal reared up high, roaring a
challenge that no dragon would be able to ignore. Snarling, Asad slammed into
him and carried him backwards. Pinned beneath the scaled bulk of the other
dragon, Mykal made no attempt to stop the raking hind claws that eviscerated
him; instead, he concentrated wholly on clamping his jaws around the other
dragon's left forearm. He jerked that limb down to the ground and pinned it.

Her bond rang with concern, pumping him
full of moonlight and love, but she wouldn’t be able to save him. Not this
time.
:Mykal!:

Asad sliced open his throat with a
vicious howl of victory, but Mykal never relented his grip on that arm. Sal
darted in close and sliced off the talon bearing the doubled rings.

Howling, Asad released Mykal and
scrambled after his claw. Without that ring, he’d be trapped as a dragon. He
wouldn't be born again, unless the Great Lord took pity on him and gave him
another chance, but pity from Yama would be as likely as rain in the barrens of
Keldar.

The ring slipped off the severed talon.
Black metal danced and rolled across the marble, bouncing and tumbling as in
his Dream.

Straight toward Shannari.

He bellowed a warning.
:Don’t let that ring touch you!:

Asad slashed at his throat, attempting
to behead him, but terror for her gave Mykal strength. He shoved his taloned
fist into the other dragon’s chest, digging past hide and rib to seize the
heart and yank it from its cavity. Still beating, the foul shriveled organ lay
like a steaming pile of offal on the marble.

Jaws opening and closing helplessly,
Asad shuddered. Awkwardly, he threw his bulk toward his heart, as though he
thought he could retrieve the organ and simply put it back in his body. His
tail crashed a broken pillar, and another section of roof fell on him, beating
him down to the floor.

Mykal scrambled up, filled his lungs
with air, and blasted every fume and poison he possessed at the foul ring
tumbling at the brightest heart.

Dull black metal mocked him and bounced
harder toward its quarry.

She stepped onto the Great Seal and his
bones hummed with power.
:Trust me, my
Keldari dragon.:

Music filled the air. He smelled lush
green grass, the musky spice of roses in full bloom, and pure water, an oasis
unlike any he’d ever known. The white knife shone brighter in her hand, a mere
candle before the magnificence of the White Dragon. She seared his eyes until
he strained to keep them open. So bright, she smoked his scales, but he didn’t
turn away. Never, not from her.