“Beware the Man from The Ring.”
Her lyrical voice echoed in my ears, so sure for a child so small. She couldn’t have been more than four or five.
“Who is he?” I asked.
The little girl skipped around me in a circle, arms outstretched as if she played a game of ring-around-the-rosy with invisible playmates. “He is the wolf of the battlefield. Once the right hand of the goddess Badb, and the first true protector. Wronged, betrayed, exiled, by those whom he trusted most. He will hunt you down and use you for his own devices.”
I just couldn’t understand what it was about the supernatural lexicon that required everything to be spoken in rhyme or riddle. Besides being annoying, it flat-out pissed me off.
“Honey, how about giving me a straight answer?” I said, spinning around, trailing her movement. As she skipped, her waist-length curly black hair bounced like hundreds of springs, framing her lovely pale face and sapphire blue eyes. A bright but serious smile curved her lips.
“He is coming,” she said, circling me one last time before running off toward a distant knoll where the swaying grass swallowed her up. “Beware.”
I sat straight up in bed and gripped my head between my hands to stop the room from spinning. I still felt dizzy from turning in circles, and dreams weren’t supposed to carry over into wakefulness. Wonderful.
The sun sat at the cusp of the horizon. I sensed its rising as a tingling of my skin, and its scent came to me as warm and smelling of earth after a long rain. As I lay in bed, the gray hour of dawn faded into bright morning, and no matter how I tried, I couldn’t banish the disturbing dream from my mind. Her energy had felt so real, rippling across my skin like satiny shadows, and the faint luminescence of her eyes confirmed that she was a Shaede. I’d never seen a Shaede child, let alone dreamt of one for that matter. But a Shaede she was, and her warning stirred a moment of disquiet in me I’d been trying very hard to ignore. It seemed I just couldn’t leave danger in my wake.
Slipping out from between the sheets, I padded toward the kitchen. I looked around the small space, took in the clean, polished concrete countertops, the soft white leather of the sofa. I breathed in the aroma of hardwood and carpeting. Cold air seemed to circulate through my studio apartment, twining around my ankles upward-or, at least, I thought it felt that way. Since my transformation, I had to recognize my senses in an entirely different way. And every day since then, I’d been relearning how to feel comfortable in my own skin-not an easy task.
Time ticked away inside my chest like a separate heartbeat; another souvenir I’d taken away from my Enphigmalé Island excursion. I’d changed during my time there, an evolution of my being that had come to completion under the black skies of a solar eclipse-a single moment in time when night became day and day became night. I tried for a moment to expel the sensation of time slipping through my body as I focused on the remembrance of quiet. How I longed for silence. But, like a cruel joke, the sound of seconds passing echoed in my soul, reminding me that I’d never have that kind of peace again. Yep, I was a lucky girl.
My phone rang, a pleasant distraction from time’s steady cadence. I checked the caller ID. Unknown. I lifted the receiver. “Who is this?” I answered in a cordial-for-me voice.
“Xander wants to see you,” a bitchy female voice on the other end said. “Now.”
I didn’t need to check the phone to know she’d already disconnected the call. Anya liked me about as much as oil liked water. I didn’t exactly harbor any warm fuzzies for her either. It could have been natural female adversity that pitted us against each other, but I suspected that deep down, Anya hated me because I didn’t regard her with the same level of fear and respect the rest of Xander’s subjects exhibited. Or maybe she just didn’t like my taste in clothes. I certainly didn’t care for hers.
The early-morning sun peeked out from the remnants of last night’s storm clouds and glittered through the skylights above me. I ran my hand through the yellow rays, my skin quivering like a mirage against desert sand. I watched in wonder as my arm began to fade into the light; then I sharply pulled away, rubbing my skin as if I’d been burned. It didn’t hurt, not really. I just wasn’t used to the sensation yet. My shoulders slumped, and with a sigh, I faded, becoming nothing more than a whisper on the air.
I traveled like a breath of wind through Xander’s too-large mansion and found the High King seated at a table in the solarium, watching the eastern horizon and sipping from a porcelain cup.
As I stepped from nothingness into my solid form beside the chair, Xander’s eyes drifted shut and the corners of his mouth lifted, hinting at a smile.
“Good morning,” he said.
“You wanted to see me?” I allowed the aggravation to seep through my voice.
“Mmm,” he answered with a sigh. “Yes, I did.”
His voice reached out to touch me in a velvet caress. Xander had the most alluring voice I’d ever heard, smooth and seductive, and he tried to use it to his advantage.
“Well,” I said, tapping my foot, “what the hell do you want?”
“Sit.”
“Excuse me? Last time I checked, I wasn’t yours to command.”
“Sit.”
He motioned to the chair opposite him just before a Shaede with bright platinum hair walked in, carrying a tray laden with a breakfast spread that would have put any of Seattle’s best eateries to shame. Fruit, fresh-baked croissants, eggs Benedict, and a couple of other baked goods that looked like fancy breakfast Hot Pockets. She plunked down two plates, and I stifled a groan. The High King must have been pretty confident that I’d show up at just the right time. Xander was such a count-his-chickens sort of guy.
“I like your outfit, by the way,” he said as he watched the platinum-haired Shaede leave. “I don’t often see you in white.”
I shrugged as I lowered myself into the chair, conveying my displeasure through the slits of my eyes. I hated his small talk. He didn’t give two shits what color I wore. In fact, I was willing to bet he’d prefer to see me wear nothing at all. I didn’t wear white-much-but since my transformation, I’d been wearing the color more often. He’d known I’d come straight over after Anya’s call. And the fact that he’d maneuvered me with aplomb raised my hackles.
I ignored his smile and sparkling gaze and poured myself a cup of ultradark coffee. I added a splash of cream, paying more attention to my actions than they warranted. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Xander sitting very still, disregarding his meal the way I disregarded him. He watched me with hungry eyes.
“What does it feel like?” he almost whispered.
“What does what feel like?” I asked, stabbing at my food.
“The light.”
I shrugged and popped a melon ball in my mouth. His curiosity about my enhanced state didn’t surprise me. And he wasn’t alone in his interest. I’d become a one-woman freak show-a new and unique creature, truly the only one of my kind.
“Neither Shaede nor Lyhtan be…” The words chanted by the suicidal teens who’d held me prisoner for the Enphigmalé echoed in my mind. “I don’t know,” I said, forcing the unpleasant memories away. “I guess it sort of…tingles.”
Xander looked to his plate as if embarrassed by his question. I’d never known him to be anything but unapologetic, though, and I reveled in his awkward moment before changing the subject. “Are you going to tell me why I’m here?”
“Do I need a reason to see you?” he asked, the epitome of innocence. “Can’t I just bask in the glow of your company?”
I rolled my eyes so hard, I thought they might fall right out of my head. I’d never been charming company by any standards. Plus, Xander didn’t do anything without an ulterior motive, and I knew he hadn’t asked me over just so he could “bask in the glow of my company.”
A flash of canary yellow crossed the open doorway, followed by the creak of leather, and I rolled my eyes again, adding a disgusted snort. Anya, one of Xander’s favorite attendants, had a leather fetish. I couldn’t imagine what about it made her want to wear it every. Single. Day. But since I’d met her, I’d never seen her in anything else. I also knew that neither one of us was going to head up the other’s fan club anytime soon.
“Xander, does Anya have to hover like that?” I asked, just a little on the loud side. “I’m developing an allergy to leather.”
Xander gave another wan smile. I wondered if he was trying to play hard to get. “She’s doing her job,” he said.
“What job is that?”
“Protecting me.”
I raised a dubious brow. “I thought that was my job.”
Xander’s smirk widened into an all-out seductive smile. Shit. He’d been fishing and pulled out the heavy gear. “I’m glad to hear you say that,” he murmured in a voice that put my temper over the top. “Very glad.”
Oh man, was I an idiot. He’d kept Anya close just to get a reaction. He knew how to play me, and I let him-every time. “But it looks like I’ve been replaced,” I said, parrying his words like a sword thrust. “I guess I’m officially unemployed.”
“Not quite,” Xander said, and my stomach constricted into a tight, anxious ball. “I have other tasks set out for you.”
“Other tasks,” I repeated in a monotone. “I don’t think so, Xander. You can’t just order me around like one of your subjects.”
He raised a challenging brow. “Can’t I?”
I stuck my chin out defiantly. “No, you cannot.”
With a robust, albeit exaggerated, pat to his well-muscled stomach, the King of Shaedes rose from his chair and headed for the door, effectively dismissing my previous statement. “I’ve enjoyed our time together this morning. But I have matters of state to attend to. We’ll talk again soon.”
I shifted in my seat, fingering the dagger strapped to my thigh. The thought of catapulting it toward his head made me feel all warm and fuzzy. “Aren’t you forgetting something? You asked for me this morning. What did you want?”
His smile became that of arrogant satisfaction. “I got what I wanted. Good morning, Darian.”
Not one single creature in all of my existence was capable of pushing my buttons the way Xander could. He hadn’t needed me for a goddamned thing. Requesting my presence was nothing more than a test to see if I’d jump to attention when he snapped his fingers. And while in his eyes I’d passed with flying colors, in my own opinion, I’d failed miserably. I passed Raif on my way back up the stairs. A frown marred his chiseled features, and he stared at his feet as he descended the stairs, lost in thought. I doubt he would have paid attention to me at all if I hadn’t brushed my elbow against his arm.
“What would prompt you to seek out my brother this morning?” Raif asked, running his hand through his usually well-kept, tawny hair. “Bored with the Jinn and looking for trouble?”
His words were spoken in humor, but there was no laughter in his tone. I ignored the slight against Tyler and gave him a quick once-over. His face looked drawn and unusually pale, the menacing spark gone from his eyes.
I cracked a grin, playing along so I’d resist the urge to question Raif about his haggard appearance. “You know me…always looking for a little trouble. What about you? Does His Royal Obnoxiousness have something planned for you today?”
A corner of Raif’s mouth hinted at amusement, but the expression did not spread to the rest of his face. Azriel’s little family feud had taken a greater toll on him than he’d let on. I assumed Delilah’s statements the previous day hadn’t helped the situation either. Her words had struck a chord.
“I’m going to work out, actually. I haven’t beaten you in a while,” he added, sounding a bit more like himself. “Want to join me?”
My grin grew into a full-on smile. “Love to.”
I followed Raif back down the stairs and through another hallway into the west wing of Xander’s sprawling estate, an area I’d never explored. Not that I was interested in every nook and cranny, but it did pique my curiosity. A gymnasium-sized room took up the entire wing, and, aside from weights and bags and a mirror-lined wall, the room boasted an open floor covered with the soft foam mats used in martial arts tournaments. I wondered for a brief and bitter moment why Raif hadn’t conducted my earlier training in this room rather than in Xander’s empty warehouse. But as I reflected on my teacher’s nature, I realized he’d kept me at a distance from the king, his protection being Raif’s highest priority.
As I looked around the gym, Raif pulled two bokken from a wall mounted with various weaponry, including a couple of war axes and a mace or two. The wooden version of the samurai sword, the bokken was useful when all you were looking for was a good workout. It was also the preferred training tool when the teacher feared he’d slice a less experienced student to shreds. I didn’t think Raif was concerned about hurting me, so I had to assume the bokken was for his protection.
I was right.
Raif was at such a serious disadvantage that I would have squealed for joy if I’d been a girlier girl. Instead, I settled for smug satisfaction. We hadn’t sparred since my transformation-and he wasn’t even close to prepared.
Confined to his solid form, he had only his speed and strength to rely on, while I had all of that and more. His labored breathing and sweat-drenched face were sufficient indicators that I had the upper hand. I have to admit, I went easy on him. I tried to remain corporeal as much as possible, but I found at times the change was triggered subconsciously. The glorious crack of the hard wood resounded in the empty gym, and my abilities as a fighter had even me surprised.
Raif came at me running, the bokken twirling from side to side. I managed a back flip and landed, crouched low to the ground. It took only one swipe of my own weapon and my teacher landed like a stone. He lay flat on his back, a position I’d imagined putting him in more than once, staring up at the ceiling. The smile faded from my face as his sullen attitude stole the glory from my victory. Damn him.
“What’s the matter with you?” I demanded, lowering the bokken.
I paced a full circle around him, slicing the air with my wooden sword before he decided to answer.
“What’s the matter…,” he repeated, pushing up to sit cross-legged on the mat, “is that the air I breathe is being poisoned by that Oracle. This matter with her is not resolved, and I want nothing more than to turn her over to the council and have her gone from my sight.”
He rocked backward, rolling onto his back and with a fluid kick of his legs, propelled himself to a standing position. He spun, the bokken whirring as it sliced through the air before dropping to his side. “She’ll cause nothing but trouble here. Her mind is gone, and all she does is sit in that room and ramble incoherent strings of words.” Raif shook his head, wiping at his brow. “Damned Oracles,” he said, disgusted.
“Raif,” I began, willing to chance his temper, “I don’t think we should disregard what she’s telling us.”
He turned, giving me his full attention, one eyebrow cocked curiously.
“I think Delilah knows your daughter’s name.”
“Her name is no secret. That the Oracle knows it is indicative of nothing. I can tell where your thoughts are leading, Darian. Leave it be.”
No, he didn’t. He didn’t have a clue what I was thinking. And I knew Raif didn’t really want me to let it be. He just didn’t realize it yet.
“I mean it,” he said as if he could read my thoughts. “Do not pursue this.”
“But-”
“I said no.”
“Raif-”
“Leave these notions like a stone on the road. Do not think on them again.”
He seized the bokken from my hand and went to hang the training swords back on the wall.
“Brakae. Your daughter’s name is Brakae-am I right?”
Raif’s head hung between his shoulders. Delilah wasn’t bullshitting us. Not in the slightest. It didn’t matter if Raif’s daughter’s name was common knowledge. Delilah threw it out there to make a point. She needed a bargaining chip and this was it-Raif’s daughter’s life for hers. And he knew damned well I was right. Just as he’d assured me the night I’d killed Azriel, this was far from over. His daughter was alive; I knew it. And I was going to find her.