Betrayal's Price (In Deception's Shadow Book 1) (6 page)

For the first
time since he had heard of their capture, the tight knot of unease in his
middle began to uncoil. This human, strangely, calmed him in some unnamed way.
Now, if he could only get through the coming fight without theatrics from his Larnkin.
He stepped off the warm stone and traversed the broken ground.

“I am Sorntar,
Crown Prince of the Phoenix. You honor me by answering my challenge. Might I
ask the name of the one brave enough to do so?” He stopped a bare pace in front
of her and was pleased to see she held her ground without flinching or cowering
back from the heat cast by his fiery wings.

“Ashayna
Stonemantle, scout in the Emperor’s Army. I will do anything to save my father’s
life.” Her voice was pitched low and smooth. She gave him an elegant bow, which
seemed at odds with her leathers, light armor, and weapons.

“Father? I
think there’s an interesting story here.”

“Perhaps after
the duel?” Eyebrow raised, she saluted him with her sword. “And are there any
rules I should be aware of?”

“No killing.
First to bleed loses. Pretty much anything else goes.” He eased back two steps
and arched his wings out behind him. Blue fire hissed and flared as he moved.
The way her eyes widened as she tracked his wings wasn’t lost on him. It wasn’t
fear he saw, though. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one with questions and a large
dose of curiosity. His earlier rage diminished another small notch; still
there, but at least he could think about something other than ripping into
humans with his talons.

Ashayna studied
his wings a moment more, and then relaxed her arms, extending them out before
her with the sword’s tip nearly touching the ground.

Clearly, her
opening was a deception. A brief hint of humor curled in his chest, a smile
ghosting across his lips for a moment. More than willing to be lured into her
trap, Sorntar lunged. Her blade snapped up into position, meeting his and
deflecting the point.

Quicker than he
thought a human could move, Ashayna cut upward at his crest. A bare heartbeat
ahead of her stroke, he whipped his blade up into a defensive position. Moments
flashed by, but her blow never landed. Instead she feinted and reversed her
swing. She swiped at his legs. Sorntar leapt clear of her strike—barely.
Surprised and off balance, he stumbled backward. Ashayna followed him, her
sword’s point uncomfortably close. She crowded him, her nearness preventing him
from using his longer reach and greater strength to full advantage.

Swift, sharp
strikes continued to meet his blade. While each impact didn’t have a devastating
force behind it, she still rained blows down upon him in rapid succession.
Adapting to her style, his blocks grew swifter. Surprise at her skills melted
away as he warmed to the fight, testing her. A human’s stamina wasn’t equal to that
of his kind. He knew her swift agility had a cost—sweat already beaded on her
brow. With a couple brutal moves on his part, he could end this fight before it
had truly began...but finding out just what Ashayna was capable of might prove
more interesting.

Ashayna came at
him again. Their blades met, hilts tangling together. With a grunt he knocked
her sword aside. She kept her grip but stumbled, her momentum carried her to
the side. She slammed into his wing and crashed to the ground. He spun around
to follow her, thinking it a trick. She crouched on the ground, her back turned
to him.

Her voice came
to him muffled. “No rules, right?”

Then in another
surprising burst of speed, she turned and tossed something at him. A small
cloud of dust and pebbles pelted him in the face before he could shield his
eyes. Cursing, he backed away.

He blinked his
watering eyes. The blurry shape of Ashayna lunged forward, sword pointed out
ahead of her. Sorntar braced himself and kicked off of the ground while
flapping his wings to hold himself aloft. With a swish of snapping flames, her
blade’s edge cleaved the air, narrowly missing his feet. He dropped back down
to the ground amid a small storm of blue fire, dust, and a few pieces of
clipped tail feathers. Anger flowed through his blood. No one had marked him in
combat in many seasons, yet this human had—he’d allowed her to maim his tail.

“Flying is
cheating.” A smirk spread across her face. “Sorry about the tail feathers.”

Sorntar
retaliated with a series of slashes and thrusts, driving her back several
paces.

She blocked
each of his strikes, but didn’t waste energy on anything fancy. He inclined his
head at her show of discipline.

“Maybe I’ll
give you a haircut, human.”

She rushed him,
binding their blades together at the hilt, and took him by surprise when she
pushed his blade aside with ease. She slammed her sword hilt into his abdomen.
He grunted. His opponent was stronger than a human should have been. When
Ashayna came in closer, he inhaled a deep breath, scenting her magic.

“Using magic to
strengthen your assault should also be cheating.” When his remarked gained him
a puzzled look, he tried a different tactic. “You’re using magic to make
yourself stronger.”

Her coloring
darkened to an angry red. She lunged at him again. Even though she was fast, he
was prepared for her and moved faster. He hooked his arm through hers, spun her
around until her back was to his front. Reaching forward he closed his hand
around her wrist and applied pressure between the bones until she released her
weapon with a yowl. Once disarmed, he hoisted her into the air until her feet
dangled a hand’s span above the ground.

The enraged
human shouted colorful curses at him—a full half of them he didn’t know the meaning,
the rest rather too clear. Her head slammed back into his chest—she’d likely
been aiming for his chin, but he was too tall. She twisted in his arms, her
legs scrambling for traction. Before she managed to land a painful blow, he
tossed her away from him. She stumbled onto her knees, and then flat out on her
belly as all breath escaped in a sharp hiss. It was no act this time.

He turned his
back upon her and retrieved his other sword.

Footfalls
coming up behind him warned of Ashayna’s move. She certainly had spunk. He
turned his head in time to glimpse her as she threw herself forward, a long
bladed dagger aiming for his thigh. Sorntar spun away. Heat from her knuckles
caressed his skin. The little human had come far too close that time.

Well, it was a fight
to the first blood and neither of them bled yet. With a shrug he tossed a sword
hilt-first to Ashayna. She caught it, a mild look of surprise on her face. Then
she grinned, her white teeth flashed at him.

“That was
stupid.”

“Perhaps, but
this is the most enjoyable fight I’ve had in ages.”

With a snarl
she closed in on him again, so near he could smell sweat mixed with the scented
soap she used to clean her hair.

He used the
opening to snap a wing out, catching her in the chest. She wheezed and fell back
a step. He followed, his sword tip hovering near hers as they continued to
circle. She darted inside his defense, sword thrust at his middle. Sorntar
twisted barely in time. The hot edge of her weapon brushed his side in one
dangerous line.

Twice she’d
nearly had him. Perhaps he’d been a little too arrogant to fight without armor.
“Charming. Trying to impale me or gut me? You do know this is merely a battle
to first blood.”

“You’re fast.”
Her voice was strained. “Figured you’d get out of the way...only hoped...to
bleed you a little.”

“Not just yet.
Perhaps another time, sweetling.” He’d meant for his words to come out
sarcastic, but they lacked a sharp edge. Though, by the way he had to leap out
of the way as she renewed her assault, his words still annoyed her. He matched
her strike for strike. She was almost a match for him, their blades dancing in
a blur of bright steel and blue flame. But as time slipped by, Ashayna began to
falter. Her sword arm continued weakening despite her magic.

“How can you…not…even
be breathing hard?” Her voice rasped, yet she still managed to infuse it with a
strong note of displeasure.

“Two hearts and
lungs twice the size of yours. Flying requires much strength.”

“That’s hardly
fair,” she grated out between ragged breaths.

“No. I suppose
it isn’t.” Sorntar rolled his shoulders in a shrug.

“You’re a
better fighter. End this while I can still stand.”

Ashayna let her
guard slip. His sword tip neatly sliced a shallow cut along her upper arm.
Using his blade’s edge, Sorntar made another cut in his own arm. Then with
steady fingers, he brushed his talons along the cut and mixed it with the
sample of hers. He held his bloody fingers out to her. She dabbed some of the
blood off his talons while giving him a suspicious look.

To show her
there was no bad blood between them, Sorntar raised his talons to his lips and
sampled the cooling liquid. Even before the pleasant coppery taste had fully
registered to his senses, his Larnkin struck. A surge of magic, powerful like a
strong mountain river in spring, caused his wings to tremble as the Larnkin
tried to force his way free.

His Larnkin
scented his bondmate. Fear, spurred by the knowledge that the only thing his Larnkin
needed to temporarily summon its full strength was to link with Ashayna through
the ties of shared blood, helped Sorntar maintain his focus and fight for
control.

With a small
fragment of his consciousness not committed to battling his Larnkin, he noted
her look of revulsion. It lasted a moment, about as long as it took her to
notice his power beginning to crawl up her arm. Her look changed to fear,
followed by anger. He attempted to release her and found he did not have
control of his hand.

He poured every
bit of his will into breaking his Larnkin’s hold. When it fought, he narrowed
his concentration down to a fine point, asserting his will over his obstinate Larnkin.
While they remained frozen in silent battle, magic—with no will to guide it—flared
uncontrolled along his skin, then his fiery magic dripped to the ground. Ashayna
hollered curses and tried to jump out of the power’s reach, but there was no
place for her to go. It encircled them both.

His magic
wouldn’t harm her, but by the rising scent of her fear, Ashayna did not know
she was safe. Her desperation gave him strength enough to break his Larnkin’s
hold. With the magic once more his to command, he reached out and calmed the
burning fire.

His Larnkin
still seethed and churned within him, raging that he dared to deny it its
bondmate. Sorntar drew in a deep breath and waited. The Larnkin’s emotional
bombardment of anger, frustration, and resentment halted, leaving behind a
hollow sensation in his mind. The Larnkin drew in upon itself, curling into a
knot, taking all warmth of its magic with it. Even after it faded, Sorntar
still didn’t relax. Moments crept by. Then he felt it building.

A wave of agony
welled up out of his bones, buckling his knees and dragging a scream from his
throat.

Sensation
slowly crept into Sorntar’s sleep-fogged mind.

Cold. A world without
heat.

A nameless
emptiness churned deep in his core, a ragged hole...a fundamental part of him
was missing.

His mind
snapped to full alertness. Alarm hummed in his veins. He tried to move, but
both arms were lumps of dead weight. He couldn’t even shift them. The rest of his
body was just as unwilling to heed his commands. Something unpleasant had
occurred—a great trauma. But what?

Long moments
passed. A shiver sliced through him. Bone-deep cold saturated his body. His
head throbbed in time to the pounding of his hearts where they lurched unevenly
in his chest. Fear clutched his gut into knots.

His elemental
fire was gone. Its loss left a gaping void in his soul where his Larnkin should
have been. Panic seized him. His Larnkin was gone. What could kill a Larnkin?

He couldn’t survive
without it. The cold—was he already dead? Had he passed into the spirit world?

Before terror
got a stronger foothold, a painful tingling started in his chest and worked its
way out to his arms and down his legs. Feeling slowly returned in its wake.

Surely death
didn’t hurt. Fragmented memories stirred, returning a bit at a time. The human
lands…a rogue Gate…the duel….

His bondmate…a
human bondmate.

Merciful gods.

He wasn’t dead.

The cold, the
emptiness…his Larnkin had punished him for his interference. Anger sparked
within Sorntar, washing away some of his confusion. What was he supposed to
have done? Let the fool of a Larnkin take her then and there in front of all,
and burn the camp to the ground during the fiery bonding ceremony?

He groaned and
blinked up at the wooden rafters of an unfamiliar ceiling. Where was he? Woolen
blankets covered him in a heavy mound. Their weight added to the sensations of
entrapment.

Was he a
prisoner? All too likely if he was within one of the humans’ timber buildings.
Sorntar forced his lungs to slow, taking deep calming breaths as he ordered
himself to think.

His Larnkin was
no help. It had left him with so little power; if he was to escape, he’d have
to do it without magic. Panic still lurked at the edges of his consciousness,
but he fought it down. He needed to get free of the humans, find his people.

Feeling
continued to return while he lay and formulated a plan. He had to get mobile,
assess the state of his body. Even without his Larnkin, he was still
formidable. Escape would be infinitely easier if he was flight worthy. But he
couldn’t move his wings yet, not with them trapped under his unresponsive body.

A warm weight
rolled up against him. He grunted in surprise, thoughts scattering when
something snuggled closer. Moist breath puffed against his side. No, not
something—someone. Very definitely someone. An arm curved across his chest and
fingers feathered along his abdomen. Shifting enough to displace the coarse
blankets, he peered down at the bed’s other occupant. She stretched out full
length against him, her legs entangled with his. Everywhere they touched heat
and power flowed into him, the delicious sensation driving away the last of his
lethargy.

She banished
the emptiness within him. His opponent, his bondmate—such a strange mix.

Long dormant
instincts guided his arms around her shoulders and waist. He rolled to his side
and mantled a wing over them. Lifting his head, he scanned the room.

If the smell of
green wood was any indication, the rather primitive building had recently been
constructed. Close-packed, narrow beds lined two walls. A meager light came
from a few oil lamps sitting on tables at either end. Even though numerous beds
lined the walls, it made sense his people would situate her so close. Best not
to anger his already moody Larnkin.

A compelling
pull dragged his gaze back to her.

“Ashayna.” He
rolled the word on his tongue.

Mild surprise
engulfed him. It was already as familiar as his own name. Her eyelashes fluttered
once, but she didn’t awake. Her hair was a mess, mostly unbraided, in need of a
good grooming. The pillow beneath her head had left marks upon her pale cheek,
a smudge of dirt rested on her nose...still, she was pretty for a human. The
memory of her dark eyes, an intense brown with a hint of honey at their iris,
flashed across his thoughts. Of their own accord, his fingers found her hair
and began grooming tangles out of the thick mass. Ashayna drew a deep breath,
mumbling something in her sleep. His eyes dropped to her full lips. Would she
welcome her bondmate even while she slept? His magic flared at the thought,
escaping his control.

Swallowing
hard, Sorntar cursed his own stupidity. What was he thinking? He’d be more
likely to feel the kiss of her knife than her lips yielding to his. He knew
finding one’s bondmate caused emotional havoc, but no one had bothered to tell
him his brain would abandon all logic, or his body would do as it pleased.
Before he could get his magic under control, it flared again. The soft snap of
a spell breaking told him his magic had just obliterated one of his people’s
weaving.

He glanced
around, surprised. Somehow on his first quick survey of the room, he’d missed
the spell that had held the glamour in place. As he watched, a mirrored image
of his sleeping bondmate vanished from the bed opposite. Which was bad enough,
but then his mind reacted too slowly, and the linked glamour suspended over his
own vanished, revealing what was really going on.

He hadn’t yet
gathered his thoughts when the soft scuff of boots against the wood floor
disturbed the silence. Five human guards approached, their expressions
promising trouble. Two in the lead had their hands resting on sword hilts.
Sorntar blinked and three of his bodyguards were blocking his view of the
humans. An angry exchange woke his human bondmate, but for the first time since
the rising of the sun, he was a full heartbeat ahead of disaster and already in
motion. By the time her eyes snapped opened and focused on him, he’d perched
himself innocently on another bed.

Ashayna bolted
upright and scrubbed at her eyes. “Where…what happened?” She focused on him and
her cheeks colored an interesting shade of pink. Then a couple moments later
the becoming blush gave way to anger. “The last thing I remember is you trying
to burn me to death.”

“No, I wouldn’t
hurt you. It was…I lost control…my Larnkin…”

Her expression
softened a notch—not friendly, but less hostile, and in a whisper she said, “My
Larnkin and I don’t get along either.”

He was saved from
having to reply to her unusual comment by the arrival of Kandarra.

Marching up to
both sets of guards, his sister bestowed a charming smile upon the human
soldiers. He’d always envied his sister’s ability to disarm a person with a
simple smile or witty comment, but there was more to this. The air filled with
the sweet, spicy scent of magic, growing stronger as she neared.

Kandarra
greeted Ashayna as she passed and walked to his bedside, carrying a tray with
two stone goblets. “I wonder what you were doing to make your magic flare. I
felt it all the way outside.”

When he
glowered at his sister, her smile grew into a grin.

Glancing behind
Kandarra, he watched Ashayna straighten her clothing and pull on muddy boots
while trying to look at him without staring. Kandarra leaned into his range of
vision. She smiled and looked in the direction he’d been staring so intently.
His human bondmate returned to tying her boots, giving the laces such a violent
tug he marveled they didn’t break.

“See something
you like, brother?”

“Kandarra…” He
delivered his warning without taking his eyes off Ashayna.

“Would I ever
do anything to cause you embarrassment?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, you know
me too well.” Kandarra leaned down and placed a kiss on his forehead. “I
thought it time for some of Vinarah’s brew. The sooner you recover, the sooner
we can leave.” She handed him one of the tall, stone goblets and turned towards
Ashayna.

Ashayna
interrupted whatever Kandarra would have said. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Two days. Just
long enough for tensions to ease a little and for Elder Cymael to draw up a
peace treaty between our peoples,” Kandarra said, then added in a dry tone, “I
supposed it helped that King Ryanth ordered his army to disperse back to their
home territories.”

“I’ve missed
all that? You let me sleep two entire days?”

Kandarra
ignored Ashayna’s concerned statement. “We’ll leave by mid-day.” She studied
their expressions. “You look terrible. Both of you need a good meal and more
rest.”

“Where’s my
father?” A scowl darkened Ashayna’s features.

“He’s well.
Actually, he’s been here when the negotiations allowed.”

“He’s free
then?”

“Of course. We’d
not dishonor the tradition of the duel.” A mischievous expression spread across
his sister’s face. “However, those guards are eyeing each other with a great
deal of distrust again, so no more war games, you two. And brother, keep your
hands to yourself.”

Ashayna made an
unintelligible sound and drew a deep breath to speak, but Kandarra held up a
hand for silence. After handing Ashayna a goblet of herb-infused drink,
Kandarra left at a brisk walk, dodging the next volley of questions.

Ashayna
transferred her glare from Kandarra’s retreating form back to him. Sorntar
hastily sipped at his goblet with the hope she’d find something else of
interest to glower at. She continued to eye her drink with suspicion long after
she watched him sip his.

New energy
flooded his weary body. The slow return of strength to his limbs a welcome
sensation. Had the brew possessed such ability, there would be no need for
healers. No, this new strength came from elsewhere. Summoning his mental
shields, he watched his future bondmate over his goblet’s rim. It seemed nature
had given her instinctual knowledge to share energy with another. By her
guarded look, Sorntar doubted she did it knowingly. He decided not to enlighten
her just yet.

“How do you
feel?” Ashayna asked after she had emptied her goblet in a few quick swallows.
She awaited his response with a stillness that spoke of great discipline.
Behind her stout mental walls he sensed a great number of questions looming. He
wasn’t sure he could hold his silence so long if their positions were reversed.

“Much better,
thank you.” To prove the truth of his words, he stood and walked around,
stretching and loosening stiff flight muscles and aching joints.

He caught her
staring. When she realized he’d noticed, her cheeks took on a pinkish hue,
which she hurriedly tried to hide by turning to straighten the camp bed. A
smile tugged at his lips. He wouldn’t have labeled her as shy.

Curiosity
reared up within him. He knew so little about humans. Maybe with her help he
could learn at least enough to avoid a war with them.

“This is quite
a mess, isn’t it?” Ashayna glanced at him over her shoulder. “Yet, your people
seek peace?”

“Yes, and it’s
good my mother has sent Elder Cymael. She’s a councilor, her specialty is
fixing up other peoples’ mistakes.” Sorntar replied. “Honestly, we never wished
to spill blood, but after the first failed attempt at negotiations with the acolytes
of the Revealing Light, we couldn’t allow your kind to advance unchecked.”

“Too bad this
Cymael wasn’t there the first time our peoples met. Perhaps she could have
convinced the acolytes of the benefits of an alliance, and prevented all this.”

“It wouldn’t
have helped. Once they learned of our magic…” Sorntar shrugged. “I doubt anyone
could have convinced them of our innocence.”

“No, not
likely,” she replied. “There are many myths about magic, but I never paid it
much mind, thinking there was no truth to the rumors, until recently. It has
been feared in the past, but not like it is now. For many years, long before I
was born, acolytes have sought out rumors of magic. Then they encountered your
kind and most senior acolytes took ship back to the empire.”

“We were just
what they were seeking.” A vague note of concern echoed in his voice. The acolytes
must have learned something of importance about his people if they were so
quick to return to their own land with the news. But what had they learned? An
enemy he didn’t understand concerned him.

“I doubt very
much you have anything to fear,” Ashayna countered.

“Good, I don’t
need more enemies when my bondmate’s idea of a greeting is to kidnap me from my
city and then drag me through an unstable Gate.” Sorntar laughed, muscles along
his shoulders and wings relaxing for the first time in several candlemarks. He
didn’t know what it was, but something about his little human bondmate calmed
him. The thought of spending a lifetime with her didn’t seem so terrible to him
at the moment.

“What did you
say?” Her empty goblet clattered to the ground, rolling across the wood planks
of the floor before coming to rest at his feet.