BEAUTIFUL SALVATION

Blood Prince Series: Book Five

"A princess under a curse. A blood-spilling earth god stripped of half his power. The longer the land goes without the power it needs, the more it will take to awaken the kingdom’s…Beautiful Salvation" 

A princess with darkness inside her…

Aiyana’s dreams are filled with blood and death, her waking hours plagued by phantom cries for blood that seem to come from the earth itself. Fearing that she’s becoming a danger to her people, Aiyana determines to risk a bargain with a fairy to get rid of the frightening power inside her. If she can find the fairy. If she can get past the god she meets in the woods. If there wasn’t something about him that felt so…familiar.

A god reduced…

Saamal is a deity who has gone from being all-powerful to being forced to watch his land die. His only chance to save his kingdom is a marriage bond with the princess prophesied to return him to glory. The only obstacle? The princess has been cursed—trapped in a death-like state. When he is given a way to communicate with her, he has hope for the first time in decades. Unfortunately, the princess is horrified by his very nature and the future she envisions if she believes what he claims. The once all-powerful god must now do something he’s never had to do before…ask.

A marriage and a war…

When your real world is the Dream World, it’s difficult to know who’s telling the truth and who’s lying. A princess under a curse. A god stripped of half his power. The longer the land goes without the power it needs, the more it will take to awaken the kingdom’s…Beautiful Salvation.

Prologue

“You’re early.” Eurydice paused mid-stretch, pale brown arms reaching for the full moon, back arched against the nest of her branches rising behind her. She offered a small welcoming smile to the figure hovering between two oak saplings at the boundary of the thick forest surrounding her clearing. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Saamal, reduced god and prince of the kingdom of Mu, bowed slightly as he left the cover of the trees and entered the large, circular glen. The bare branches of the trees around him clicked against one another like the teeth of nervous forest sprites, drawing attention to the evidence that fall had arrived once again. Saamal was dressed in his customary black shirt and pants under a plain tunic the color of thick fog. Looking at him against the backdrop of leafless trees with their brittle branches reminded Eurydice of the prince’s precarious situation. She bit her lip, thinking of the sorry state of the god’s kingdom and the dim future in store for it if her efforts to help him were unsuccessful. For a moment she imagined she could see his mate, cursed into unnatural sleep, lying deep in the heart of a castle surrounded by dying briars tipped with ragged thorns. Even the brilliant silver light of the full moon couldn’t chase the shadows from the prince’s eyes, and no wonder.

“I hope my early arrival does not upset your plans?”

Eurydice kept her face impassive as she noted the stiffness of his shoulders, the strain outlined in the deep creases around his mouth and the dark shadows under his eyes. Saamal, quite unlike his future bride, was not sleeping. The stress was showing, a great red flag of the god’s failing health and depleted strength. It hurt to see him that way. Eurydice tried to keep her observations from showing on her face. “Quite the contrary. I choose to take your presence as a sign of your eagerness, a testament to your hope that I will be able to help you as I’ve told you I would.” She tried to infuse her voice with confidence, bordering on arrogance. Anything to force some hope into Saamal’s worry-lined face, to take some of the weight from his sagging shoulders.

Something flickered in Saamal’s eyes, a shadow amongst shadows. “Hope. Such a dangerous word.”

“Not dangerous, Saamal, never dangerous. Hope is a wonderful thing.”

“Nothing has changed, Eurydice. There is no reason to believe now will be any different.”

“Saamal, I more than anyone know what it’s like to know who you are destined to be with and yet be helpless to get to them.” Pain blossomed in Eurydice’s heart, images of her husband dancing behind her eyes, her ears echoing with the haunting memory of his sweet song. Tears threatened, but she forced them back. She set her jaw and pressed her lips together, drawing on all of her hope, all of the determination that had gotten her this far. She let it show in the set of her shoulders, the unwavering manner in which she met the eyes of the god before her. “I died Saamal. He died. The maenads proclaimed that we would never again be together in this world, even death would not unite us again because no world—”

Eurydice closed her mouth, ceasing the ramble of her thoughts aching to pour from her mouth. Now was not the time for her story. Her story was not yet over, not yet ready to close. Not until all the pieces came together. Her body trembled, empty branches swaying and clacking against one another, and she fought to keep the gruesome memories from overwhelming her. I’m almost there, almost there. Keep it together, Eurydice. “I know what it’s like to be faced with a hopeless situation. But I did not give in. And I did not give up. I couldn’t have him in this world so I’m making a new one.” Saying the words out loud set her heart to hammering ferociously against the wall of her chest, a painful battering. Everything was nearly in place, she could say it now. She swallowed hard and met Saamal’s eyes. “Look me in the eye and tell me your situation is more hopeless than my own.”

A gust of wind tousled Saamal’s dark hair, making the shadows on his face dance. He held her gaze and there was a depth to the darkness in his eyes that went beyond color. It was like peering into twin pits, bottomless and empty. No light, no spark…no hope. “I am immortal, Eurydice. It has been a hundred years already. I know you have a plan, that you are working on attaining something important—this ‘new world.’ But I dare say you know my own prophecy as well as I, and you and I both know it could be centuries more until I am worthy enough.”

Eurydice parted her lips to speak, but was interrupted by a new arrival.

“Centuries? No, I’m sorry, my friend, but that is unacceptable.”

Kirill’s voice drew Eurydice’s attention to the other side of the clearing. Kirill, silent as a panther and almost completely obscured by his ever present cape of many dangers, stepped into the clearing. His eyes glinted like pools of red wine in the moonlight, glittering in the darkness. The vampire prince of Dacia’s white-blond hair glowed as it fell like a guillotine in sharp, unforgiving lines down his neck to his shoulders.

“We have been progressing at a very nice pace thus far,” Kirill continued, advancing farther into the glen. “I see no reason your marriage cannot be arranged in the same expedient manner.”

“Ever the romantic, eh, Kirill?” came a teasing, velvety voice.

Adonis glided down from the night sky and landed in a pool of onyx leather wings, clawed hands kissing the earth as he settled on the ground. A flash of skin on his back revealed the plunging cut to his white tunic, the lack of fabric compensated for by the crimson cloak falling between his wings, attached at either shoulder with a burnished gold clasp. The demon prince of Nysa’s hazel eyes glittered as he tilted his horned head at the vampire. “You’ve been married to Irina for, what, four seasons now? I can’t believe having a rusalka for a wife hasn’t had more of an effect on your people skills.”

Kirill’s cloak twitched as though he were fingering one of the weapons he no doubt had hidden beneath its heavy folds. “Anyone’s people skills would be found wanting in comparison to those of an incubus, my dear Adonis.”

“Too true, too true.” A shadow passed over them as something soared overhead and Adonis flinched down and arched his wings, peering out from the shelter of bone and leather. “Oh good, Chuckles is here.”

The beating of giant feathered wings on the wind heralded the arrival of Prince Patricio. The seven foot giant landed with a muffled thud next to the crouching demon, blond hair wind-whipped and wild as it brushed his shoulders. Eurydice leaned closer to the angel, intrigued to see that he was not wearing his customary white robes, but rather an azure toga that would have let him blend in with the brilliant sky earlier that day. It matched his eyes perfectly, making them a breathtaking sapphire blue even with only the moonlight to illuminate them. The prince of Meropis tilted his head down at the crouching incubus, his face blank of emotion.

At least he hasn’t drawn his sword. The weapon in question shone dully in the light of the moon, the blade the width of a hand, with a solid, unadorned hilt that rested comfortably in the angel’s large palm. Its composition was a mystery to Eurydice, but something in it made her skin tingle with trepidation. It was a simple sword, absent of any ornamentation or fancy etching. It was an instrument of justice, of violence. No decoration was needed. Eurydice leaned away from him, clenching and unclenching her fists as she remembered the agony of the massive weapon’s bite a few moons ago. The angel and the demon had allowed their bickering to go too far and it had been she who’d paid the price, she who’d ended up with that sword buried in her trunk. That will not happen again. She crossed her arms and waited to see what the mercurial angel would do.

Patricio inclined his head in the demon’s direction, burnished gold hair brushing over his shoulders with the movement. “Marcela says hello.”

Adonis’ wings twitched slightly then he lowered them to bare the top half of his face so he could better see the angel. He blinked at Patricio’s mention of his wife. “Oh? Well…tell her I said hello as well.”

Patricio inclined his head once in acknowledgement and faced Eurydice. His brow furrowed slightly and Eurydice realized her lips were parted in shock. She knew Adonis had played a small part in pushing Patricio and Marcela together, but she hadn’t expected it to have such an…immediate effect on their tempestuous relationship. She snapped her mouth closed and cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. “Greetings, Patricio. I’m told you had quite a bit of excitement with your maid of the sea. How is Marcela doing?”

A rare spark lit Patricio’s eyes and a hint of laugh lines creased the skin around his mouth. “She’s well, thank you.”

The stress on the words “thank you,” and the solemn tone that echoed in the angel’s voice went straight to Eurydice’s heart. She blinked, trying to keep herself from crying all over again from the sheer happiness at seeing Patricio finally opening his heart, and at seeing someone else finally open theirs to him.

Saamal cleared his throat. “While I appreciate your…desire to proceed in a timely fashion, Kirill, I’m afraid I have little control over the situation. It’s not that I haven’t been trying for the last century, I have simply been…failing.”

The heated tone of Saamal’s voice alerted Eurydice to the god’s rising temper, the toll his frustration was taking on him. Guilt ate at her as she realized she’d forgotten about the god amidst the excitement of the other princes’ arrivals.

“What is the situation?” a gruff voice demanded.

Etienne, prince of Sanguenay, ambled into the clearing, still in the process of fastening his pants. His broad, tanned chest was bare as usual, and his brown hair was still tousled from his recent shift from wolf form, a dried leaf or two sticking in the chocolate brown strands. He finished dressing as he came to stand with the group, then raised his chocolate brown eyes to Eurydice. “My apologies for being late. One of the pups took off with my bag and it took me longer than it should have to catch him.”

“Apparently, you were a little too late,” Adonis observed, pointing to a tear in the leg of his pants. “Your pup chewed through the bag.”

Etienne followed Adonis’ gesture and scowled at the jagged hole in his earth-toned clothing. “The tailor’s going to have a fit. He’s already in a snit over Loupe letting the wolves chew on the edges of her gown as they please.”

“The werewolf asked a very astute question prior to being dragged off on a tangent by our resident demon,” Kirill broke in pointedly. He fastened his intense attention on Saamal. “I believe you were about to enlighten us as to your situation?”

“As I told you, it was over a century ago.” Saamal gazed off into the distance. “I was…a different person then. A prophecy came to my attention that a child had been born who would grow up to be my wife. The prophecy declared that she would double my power and divert me from the dark path I was on. I was the most powerful god in the kingdom, but the promise of more power immediately caught my interest. More power for me meant more control, more potential to help my people. I decided to attend the child’s naming ceremony to get an impression of the female who would become my bride.”

“What did you think of the bit about diverting you from your dark path?” Adonis drummed his claws on the ground as he peered up at the god. His eyes flickered with specks of scarlet. “How dark was your path?”

The lines around Saamal’s eyes tightened. “I did what was necessary for my people to keep them strong. I—” The words died on his tongue and he closed his mouth abruptly, averting his eyes. He remained still for the span of several moments, body as stiff as a statue. “I ignored that part.” His voice was reserved, a hushed confession in the isolated glen. He paused, giving those around him time to form their own conclusions.

Eurydice glanced around at the princes, searching their faces. Kirill’s face was as expressive as granite, chiseled white features guarding his thoughts as surely as Cerberus guarded Hades. By sharp contrast, Etienne’s face was an open book, suspicion etched in the creases around his severe mouth, the golden glint in his brown eyes. Adonis was guileless as ever, not a trace of judgment to be found, just blatant curiosity in the way he leaned closer to Saamal, his wings settled like a blanket over his back. Patricio stood like a silent sentinel, sword at his hip. He waited like a judge hearing evidence, calm and distant, but inwardly preparing to do whatever might be necessary once all the facts had been revealed.

Eurydice took a deep, slow breath. She had saved Saamal for last for good reason. It had been her hope that the princes would bond, that loyalty would grow, alliances would be forged. She’d seen evidence of this already, perhaps most obvious in Kirill’s clear desire to teach Adonis to be less…carefree, and more strategic, more prince-like. And then there’d been the way they’d all come together to save Irina…

Still, Saamal had the most gruesome past of any of them. Indeed, his kingdom had had a grisly beginning, and continued to stay closer to the flesh and blood of creation’s beginning than most kingdoms. It was time for the others to learn more of the kingdom of Mu, and she only hoped that they would be as willing to help the god then as they had been when the night started.

“I was not the only deity to show up,” Saamal continued, not making eye contact with his audience. “Chumana, a lover I had taken in the past, had shown up as well. She was…not pleased with my reason for being there. She laid a curse on the child, condemning her to die on the day she reached the age for marriage.”

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned for an infant.” Adonis’ voice lacked its usual humor, coming out more of a grim observation than a joke.

Saamal’s eyes went dead, becoming the bottomless pits Eurydice had glimpsed earlier. The air crackled with unease, and she could feel it gripping her branches, embittering the wind. Saamal was no longer at full strength, he couldn’t bring the skies bearing down on them with all the fury of a winter storm, but he was still a god. It would be best if he remained calm and clear-headed. Easy, Saamal.

Thankfully, the god merely flexed his hands and went on with his story. “It is a custom in my culture for each of the balam to grant a royal child with a gift—a blessing if you will. One of them arrived late, and had not yet given her blessing at the time Chumana laid her curse on the child. Although a fairy does not have the power to curb the curse of a goddess, I was able to further empower her blessing by giving up some of my own power to fuel her magic. The balam acted as a conduit and guided my power, and together we changed the outcome of Chumana’s curse. My future bride, Aiyana, would not die, but merely sleep.”

“But you haven’t been able to wake her up.” Adonis shoved himself into a sitting position, raising his wings behind him to keep from crushing them. He crouched like a gargoyle on a church, face pinched with thought.

The sharp smell of the air preceding a storm flooded the clearing as Saamal clenched his hands into fists. “She has slept for the last hundred years. I have sought out seers to discover how I might wake her up, but only one has had an answer. ‘It is the kiss of Death that will wake Aiyana.’”

“She has to die?” Kirill’s cobalt eyes flashed as he focused more intently on Saamal. “If that is what has kept you from waking her, let me tell you with every confidence, death is not always an ending. In my personal experience, it has actually been quite empowering.”

Eurydice eyed the vampire, searching his face for some trace that he was teasing. The vampire remained composed, observing Saamal intently.

“I am Death.” Saamal drew himself up, in that moment looking every inch of his six foot height. “It was one of my names before…” His shoulders drooped as if he were a puppet whose strings had been severed and his gaze fell away from Kirill’s. “Thus far, I am obviously not worthy to wake her.”

“So you’ve been trying to wake her with a kiss for the last hundred years, but it hasn’t worked.” Adonis tilted his head. “For my own curiosity, how well do you know Aiyana?”

Saamal glanced back at the demon. “I have never met her. After her naming ceremony, my powers were severely reduced. I have many powerful enemies, and I did not want to draw them to Aiyana. I formalized our betrothal and then set out to find someone who could help me bolster my power until the curse could be broken.”

“Her parents simply let you claim her?” Patricio raised an eyebrow.

Eurydice shivered as the god focused that fathomless stare on the angel, his defenses once again in place as his face refined itself into an emotionless mask.

“They did what I told them to do.” His voice was even, matter of fact.

“Interesting.”

The vampire’s musing and the rustling of paper drew everyone’s attention to Kirill. The Dacian prince had a scroll and a quill out and was taking notes. The scratching of the writing instrument over the parchment filled the air, dispelling some of the tension. His eyes had a glassy, far away haze to them and Eurydice could practically see the wheels in his head spinning. Her lips twitched in muted amusement. A master strategist, her vampire. If anyone could think of a way to break Aiyana’s curse, surely it would be him?

“Does the girl know she’s…betrothed, to you?” Etienne crossed his arms, regarding Saamal like a father might view a prospective suitor for his child—a suitor with no money or social position. A suitor who may have been rolling around in a manure pit.

Saamal opened his mouth then closed it. “No.”

Adonis’ eyes sparkled and the corners of his mouth twitched as if he were fighting not to laugh. “So your plan is to wake this woman up and tell her to put on her wedding dress because you’re getting married?”

“At the time the marriage was decided—”

“By you,” Adonis interjected.

Saamal pressed his lips into a thin line and inhaled slowly through his nose. “Yes. By me. At the time the marriage was decided, I was a different man. It was not in my nature to consider individuals. My concern was with the land and the people as a whole. More power for me meant more power for the land, and for the people.” He stepped closer to Adonis, crushing the grass beneath his boots. “I am an earth god, Adonis. I pour my blood into the land, I share blood with the kings and bind them to the earth they rule. I did not ask permission to perform my duties, to keep the kingdom and the land itself alive.”

Seemingly unfazed, the demon peered up at Saamal, his body completely relaxed even with the god looming over him. “And on a grand scale, that makes perfect sense, but on an individual scale—on an individual female scale—‘marry me because I said so’ is more likely to get you a broken nose than a bride.”

“The demon has a point.” Patricio’s feathers ruffled as he crossed his arms, mirroring Etienne across from him in a disapproving father stance. “So far, none of our mates have been human. If this girl has magic in her, it might be her lack of consent that’s keeping you from ‘being worthy.’”

Eurydice’s eyebrows met her hairline at the astute observation as Kirill’s quill exploded in another flurry of furious writing. She’d never considered that. Could she have sped up Saamal’s mating process if she’d tried earlier to get to Aiyana’s spirit?

“And what do you propose I do about that, hmmm?”

Saamal’s voice lashed out at the angel like a whip, tearing Eurydice from her thoughts. Saamal aimed the full force of his frustration at the angel, those miasmic charcoal eyes twin swirling pools of shadow, darker than Charybdis on a moonless night. Eurydice put a hand to her throat, unease rolling through her at the sharp spike of aggression in the clearing. Patricio bristled at Saamal’s tone, wings rising and his hand drifting down to the hilt of his heavy broadsword.

“She is asleep, under a curse. Do you think I wouldn’t talk to her if I could?”

“Well, she’s not exactly sleeping.” Adonis stood and approached the god, apparently oblivious to the skin tingling ire between Saamal and Patricio. He faced the god with a contemplative wrinkle between his brows. “If she’s under a spell that’s kept her unconscious for a hundred years, then you’re talking about displacing her consciousness, holding it trapped in another dimension.”

Saamal gaped at Adonis, whether for his intriguing suggestion or his audacity to step between him and the angel, Eurydice wasn’t certain. He recovered quickly, brows lowering as he smoothed the emotion from his face.

“Making her sleep was not the curse, the curse was for her to die. It was through my power and the balam’s intervention that death was mitigated to sleep.”

Adonis waved a hand, brushing off the distinction. “Same principle applies. No one sleeps that long, the consciousness is too powerful. Trust me, the lovely Aiyana’s mind is not in stasis—it’s on the astral plane.”

Eurydice leaned forward as far as the trunk of her lower body would allow her, excitement flowing through her veins and making her muscles twitch with anticipation. “What are you saying, Adonis?”

“I’m saying, that Saamal’s lady fair is probably existing—spiritually speaking—on the astral plane.” He grinned at Saamal. “And I can help you get there.”

For a split second, Saamal’s eyes brightened, more like polished obsidian than dark pits, revealing a glimpse of true hope. Then, like clouds passing over a full moon, they grew dark again. “No. It would not work. I am a god of the earth, bound to the land. I could not travel to the astral plane.”

The demon’s wings rose in indignation. “I don’t offer help I can’t provide.” Adonis stood up, brushing himself off as if to rid himself of the insult. “Being an earth god only means you’ll need help from the earth to get to the astral plane. There’s a plant called sinicuichi—”

“I’m familiar with that plant,” Saamal interrupted. “It is used to brew the elixir of the sun. It is known for allowing a man—or god—access to the Dreamworld, but it also renders the body weak and vulnerable.”

Adonis rolled his eyes. “Do you want to talk with Aiyana or not?”

“Of course I do.” Saamal shoved a hand through his dark hair, his perpetual composure seeming to crack. “But I must remain alert. I have enemies, enemies more powerful than you could imagine, who would be on me in an instant if they sensed such weakness. If I were to weaken…”

“Do you have any treaties with other creatures that will allow you to call upon them for aid?” Kirill queried, no doubt thinking of his own fierce negotiations with the magical beings of Dacia.

Saamal crossed his arms. “I do not. With my full power, I…” He pressed his lips into a thin line and let out a deep breath through his mouth. “I did not need help. Now that I have lost much of that power—”

“You have nothing to offer.” Kirill muttered something that sounded like “Poor planning” under his breath.

“I will guard you while you are on the astral plane,” Etienne volunteered.

The werewolf prince stood with his arms crossed, the stance lacking the grace it would have had if the muscle of his chest wasn’t quite so thick. The prince of Sanguenay eyed Saamal as if trying to see inside him, trying to see what was truly behind his desire to wake Aiyana. His offer indicated he was giving the god the benefit of the doubt.

“Your offer is generous, and much appreciated, Etienne.” The skin around Saamal’s eyes tightened. “Unfortunately, my enemies… I wouldn’t want to put you in their path. Immortals—”

“Do you know what my experience has been with immortals?” The lycanthrope’s golden eyes flashed and he bared his teeth in a feral mockery of a grin. “It always comes as a great shock to them when they get bit.”

Kirill snorted and rolled his eyes. Adonis barked out a laugh, and even Patricio seemed to be fighting not to smile. Saamal appeared to be the only one who found no amusement in Etienne’s confidence.

“Accept his offer of help, Saamal,” she begged earnestly. “For over a century you’ve tried to do this on your own, but you are alone no longer. Let your new friends aid you.”

Kirill’s eyebrow twitched at her use of the word “friends,” but he didn’t speak. Eurydice didn’t miss the contemplative glint in his eyes and she wondered exactly how much of an influence the vampire’s enigmatic wife had managed to have on him.

“Very well.” Saamal bowed to Etienne. “I graciously accept your help.”

Some of the weight she’d been carrying slid off of Eurydice’s shoulders, but something about the darkness in Saamal’s eyes kept her relief from being all consuming. Have a little faith, my god prince. I need you to have a little faith.

Chapter One

“Defend yourself and your land.”

The voice came from Aiyana’s throat, rattled her vocal cords, but it wasn’t her voice. The deep booming tones echoed into the night, carrying a weight no human voice could ever manage. A god’s voice.

She stood at a crossroads, facing a young man, no older than eighteen. His dark hair hung in braids to his chest, and the skin showing around the cut of his summer tunic showed no scars or lines, nothing to mark him as a warrior. He noticed her standing in the crossroads and the blood drained from his face, leaving his copper skin pale in the moonlight. His lips parted as Aiyana stepped into the road in front of him.

She was larger than she should have been, large enough to completely block the youth’s path. She glanced down and it wasn’t her body. It was a man’s, dressed in full battle regalia, her skin painted with streaks of  jade and tar, her arms and shins adorned with gold plated sheaths. A wickedly sharp spear was clutched in her right hand and her heart skipped a beat as the arm that came from her strange new body threw the weapon at the boy’s feet.

Aiyana closed her eyes, but nothing she did could stop the images. Tears streamed down her cheeks as the boy set his mouth in a firm line, put down his pack and picked up the spear. The fight was over in a miserably short time, the youth obviously no match for a grown man, let alone a god.

Blood. Gore. Intestines spilling to the dirt road as the boy’s body fell to its knees, the eyes empty of life. The sickly sweet copper scent mixed with the unmistakable odor of death filled her senses, warmed her skin as it flooded over her hands. She shook her head until her teeth rattled, but the nightmare remained. The youth’s corpse toppled over to the ground and she averted her eyes as it hit the dirt. Left it in the road to feed the scavengers. An offering to the predators of the night.

“No!”

Aiyana shot up off the bed, her pulse thundering in her ears, drowning her in a cacophony of sound. She drew a hand across her forehead, the sweat feeling all too much like blood. She gaped down at her glistening hand and for a moment her nightmare laid its grisly images over reality.

Aiyana threw back her silken coverlet and leapt off the bed, her body thrumming with a wild, disturbing song of energy. She paced around the room, quick, rapid steps. She shook her hands, trying to rid herself of the alarming tingle of power, the ache in her fingertips. Her chest rose and fell with each breath and she closed her eyes, concentrating on her breathing, tuning out the chaos.

Bit by bit, the nightmare evaporated and when she opened her eyes she could finally see her room, see the opulence that was so out of place after the carnage she’d witnessed. The golden silk of her curtain shone like polished treasure in the light of the wall sconces, casting deep shadows on her bed. The elaborate chandelier hung from the ceiling in the center of the room, more gold glowing at her as if the sun itself had been set in her bedroom. Paintings full of rich, vibrant colors hung on her walls, depicting the White God in the midst of some of his most remembered acts of mercy and justice. The sight of the White God failed to inspire her, to comfort her. His brother the Black God was still too fresh in her mind. Not just in her mind…

Aiyana groped for her robe that lay draped across the settee beside her bed. The rose-colored silk was a pale accent against the deep crimson of the cushion. She snatched up her robe and quickly slipped it on as she rushed to the door of her chambers. She flung the door open.

“Your Majesty, are you all right?”

Aiyana stopped short as she nearly ran into the guard posted outside her door. The worn leather of his boots barely made a sound as he faced her, the overlapping bones of his breastplate sliding against his thick leather tunic. He clutched his spear in his hand, the sharp obsidian point humming with quiet magic. The spears were from a time long ago, a time when they’d worshipped the Black God. The legend said the Black God had blessed the spears, that wounds inflicted on an enemy with the jagged points would require magic to stop the bleeding. Aiyana shoved that thought from her mind, unable to bear it after her nightmares. The nightmares that reminded her the Black God’s legacy was not limited to their weapons.

For a moment, Aiyana couldn’t tear her eyes from the bone breastplate. The nightmare ate at the edges of her consciousness, her opponent’s bones sticking out like macabre porcupine quills, shining bright white in the moonlight where the sharpened ends stuck out through the blood and gore. The bones on the guard’s breastplate were small—animal bones. Just animal bones.

“Your Majesty?”

With no small effort, Aiyana refocused her attention from the guard’s armor to his eyes. His brown eyes shone with concern even as his grip on his spear tightened and he peered behind her as if searching for an enemy. The guard on the other side of the door stiffened and gripped his own weapon. Aiyana didn’t miss the way the second guard’s spear twitched in her direction, his lips tightening into a thin line even as he tried not to stare at her. That one was afraid of her.

As well he should be, Aiyana thought miserably.

Forcing a peaceful calm to her face, Aiyana clasped her hands in front of her to hide their trembling. She stood tall, composing herself and offering the guards the most serene expression she could manage.

“I’m fine. I was simply going to get a glass of water.”

“Please, Your Majesty, allow me.”

“No, please, I want to—”

“Chayton, guard the princess, I’ll return shortly.”

The other guard stood to attention, his hands tightening on his spear even as he lowered it. Aiyana inclined her head once, acknowledging his attention, then stepped back into her room. She closed the door as gently as she could manage, then pressed her forehead against the cool wood. Fisting her hands in frustration, she waited for the guard to arrive with her water. She’d needed the walk, needed to get out of her chambers where the nightmare was too fresh. The gods take it, she was an adult, not a child. She could get her own water!

For a moment, she wanted to force her way out. She was the princess, she could command them to let her get her own water. Of course, then they’d follow her. Like guard dogs. And they’d likely tell the king and queen in the morning. That would mean another safety lecture.

But safety for whom? Me or them?

Power sparked to life in her blood, responding to her emotions. The adrenaline slid through her veins like a thick poison, awakening her nerve endings and making her skin tingle. She glared at the door. How dare they seek to keep her imprisoned in her own room, locked up under the pretense of keeping her ‘safe?’ She was no weakling, no vulnerable fawn to be hidden away—and well they knew it. An ache grew along the bones of her fingers, followed by the increasingly familiar prick of claws growing where her flat human fingernails had been. The small sharp crescents of white clicked against the door where her hand was pressed flat to the slick, polished surface. A jaguar’s claws—the Black God’s favored animal. Perhaps it was time she let them see what she was really capable of, let them see the raw power that was hers to command. They already thought her a monster, what was the sense of hiding it anymore? Blood would flow…

“Your Majesty, I have your water.”

The guard’s voice drew Aiyana’s attention and she stared at the door as if she could see through it. His companion was no doubt still gripping his precious spear, itching to drive the carved obsidian point into her flesh. He would be the first to suffer.

The sound of grooves being dug through wood pulled Aiyana from her musing, and she gaped in dismay at the deep slashes she’d carved in the door with her claws. Wood peelings drifted to the floor. She raised her hands to find the claws were gone, vanished as if they’d been one more nightmare. Only the damaged door bearing testament to their reality.

Aiyana yanked the door open, giving the guards a smile and not caring if it appeared as false as it felt. Her lips hurt to be pulled into the unnatural expression and she snatched the glass of water from the guard’s hand. His companion twitched, the point of his spear rising ever so slightly, and Aiyana spat out a quick thank you to the guard who’d brought her the water then shut herself back in her room, ignoring the twin expressions of concern on the guards’ faces.

She half-slammed the glass down on her bedside table. The loud noise echoed in the room and she tensed.

“Your Majesty, are you all right in there?” one of the guards called out hesitantly.

“I’m fine.” Aiyana tried to keep the heat of irritation from her voice. “I’m going back to sleep now.”

She listened for a moment, but the guards seemed to accept her word. Aiyana wrinkled her nose in disgust and strode over to her wardrobe. She shoved aside the rich Dacian silk dresses and the sinfully rich satin wraps from Nysa. At the end of the wardrobe was the cloak she was searching for, the thick deerskin worked until it was as soft and supple as any manufactured cloth, absent of any ornamentation or fancy beadwork. She slid it over her robe and fastened it to hide the nature of her garments underneath. Suitably covered, at least as far as appearances went, she made a beeline for the far southeast corner of her bedroom.

A golden sconce set into the wall held an unlit candle. Aiyana closed her hand around the cool metal and pulled, releasing the catch that held the door to the secret passageway closed. The stone grated against the floor and she tensed, holding her breath as she listened for any indication that the guards had heard the noise. After several minutes of silence, she let out her breath and slipped into the passageway, closing the door behind her as gently as she could.

The passageway was pitch black, but Aiyana knew the way. She trailed a hand along the sleek carved stone wall, counting her paces and feeling carefully for the shallow staircase. The darkness calmed her, helped her to clear her mind. By the time she’d emerged from the passageway out into the gardens, her hands were no longer shaking and she could breathe evenly again.

The smell of roses perfumed the night air and Aiyana savored the light scent. The full moon lit the gardens with a silvery glow and she couldn’t help but smile as she wound her way into the maze of hedges that formed a simple labyrinth of flowers and towering ceiba trees. She trailed a finger over the velvety rose petals blossoming from the midst of the carefully carved bushes on either side of her as she passed.

The sound of metal sliding against metal rang out suddenly in the silence. It was the unmistakable sound of a blade and Aiyana whirled around, hands out in front of her. The power inside her, never having truly gone back to its slumber after her nightmare, pulsed like a living thing under her skin, eager to be set free. The sharp tips of her claws crept from her fingernails, aching to slice through something warmer than a wooden door.

“Your Majesty?”

The male voice was gentle, calm even as it asked the question. Okomi, the royal gardener, slowly stepped out from behind one of the rose bushes. His sable hair was pulled into twin braids that fell to his shoulders and his clothes were simple loose cotton pants and shirt, the dark moss-colored fabric brushed with dry brown dirt and spotted with rich dark brown soil. Aiyana’s attention fell to the heavy pruning shears he held in his hands and a wicked blush heated her cheeks.

“Okomi, I’m sorry.” She forced her lips into a smile. “You startled me.” She tucked her hands into her cloak, hoping the gardener hadn’t seen her claws.

“Forgive me, Your Highness.” Okomi bowed, his dark hair taking on a pale blue sheen under the moon’s rays. His weather-creased face wrinkled further as he raised his eyes back to her. “The days have been very hot, I thought I could get some of my work done this evening while the moon gives me enough light. I hope I haven’t displeased you?”

“Oh, no,” Aiyana rushed to assure him. Her mind whirled, struggling to think of a reason she was out in the garden in the middle of the night with no escort. “I just wanted a little space to myself. Thankfully, I managed to convince the guards to observe from the tower. Though I do feel silly with them standing there, spears waiting.” She glanced up at the window in one of the castle towers and offered a little wave to the guards she’d pretended were there.

The gardener didn’t follow her gesture. “A little fresh air can be good for the soul. It is nice that they let you wander alone in your gardens. It must be difficult being the king and queen’s only child, always surrounded by armed guards. Perhaps a little overprotected.” He inspected a rose bush, lifting a limp branch here and there. “Especially considering you are not without your own defenses.”

Aiyana’s lips parted as she stared at Okomi. She’d seen the gardener often, since the rose garden was one of her favorite places to spend the afternoon. But though they’d exchanged a pleasantry or two over the beauty of Okomi’s work, she’d never had the impression the gardener thought they were on more personal terms. Then again, she had “slipped” on occasion, and there’d been more than one person to see the claws coming from her fingers. Perhaps Okomi had witnessed it himself, and thought being a subject of the kingdom entitled him to speak freely of a royal’s curse.

“I…” She paused, brow wrinkling in thought. If propriety had been breached, it had been Okomi who’d breached it, not her. Why should she feel awkward? “Yes, I suppose it is. Every once in a while, it would be nice to have some space to myself, without the eagle eyes of the guards following my every move.” She gave a half-hearted wave at the tower, though she doubted Okomi believed her story.

“A perfectly reasonable desire.”

“Isn’t it though.”

Okomi studied her for a moment, dark brown eyes considering. “If I might be so bold, you seem troubled, Your Majesty. The flowers and I are excellent listeners.”

The roses rustled gently in the evening breeze as if they were agreeing with Okomi. Aiyana brushed off the whimsical thought and raised her hand to touch one of the roses. A sharp pain stabbed at her finger and she inhaled sharply, jerking her hand back.

“Are you all right, Your Majesty?”

“I’m fine.” A bright red drop of blood welled on her fingertip, ensnaring Aiyana’s attention. Slowly, she held her finger out over the bushes. She raised her other hand to squeeze the finger, forcing the droplet of blood to quiver and fall to the earth.

She held her breath, waiting.

“Your Majesty, are you all right?” Okomi asked again.

Nothing happened. Frustration burned in Aiyana’s veins and she closed her eyes, trying to figure out what she’d expected to happen. Something inside her had urged her to offer her blood to the land, something tickled the back of her mind, tormenting her with the conviction that the land was…hurting? Hungry?

“You should know, Your Majesty, that no one believes those nasty rumors some of the women were spreading in the village last week.”

Aiyana narrowed her eyes, all thoughts of blood and earth vanishing. “They don’t?”

“Not a bit,” Okomi assured her, raising the shears to trim a few unhealthy twigs from the bush beside him. “Everyone knows the women were letting their imaginations run away with them, reaching for old stories to add excitement to their lives. The gods will think poorly of their wagging tongues, I’m sure.”

“What did they say?” Aiyana put a little more royal authority into her voice, using the tone her mother used if she wanted to be obeyed immediately.

Okomi appeared unfazed. “Oh, they were saying that you had a touch of the dark god in you. Some nonsense about noticing your hands and seeing claws instead of fingernails. One of them even went so far as to make up a story about how you responded to her questions before she even asked them, as if you had the Black God’s gift of prophecy.” His brow furrowed and he sniffed in disapproval. “Doddering old women had people all in a fright that you were going to change into some monstrous goddess and spill their blood to empower the land. I’m pleased you took none of that to heart.”

Aiyana stared at Okomi. It seemed like all the air had abruptly been sucked from the garden. “They thought I was going to change into some…monstrous goddess?” She tried to keep her voice light, but failed miserably. She cleared her throat. “Why… Why exactly would they think that?”

“It’s an embarrassment to us all.” Okomi lowered his shears. “Those women went on and on about how you’d been possessed by the Black God, that you had his power inside you. They claimed that you would return the kingdom to the old ways, to the days when a human sacrifice was needed to keep the land alive and healthy.” He gestured around him at the beautiful landscape. “Our people have not practiced such things in ages, and does the earth seem any less vibrant to you?”

Yes. Aiyana didn’t bother to look around. She knew what she would see, the blooming flowers, the rich green leaves, the blackish-brown soil teeming with moisture from the last rain. But she could feel something different. She could feel the land…suffering. In pain, starving. Aiyana put a hand to her temple as pain throbbed at the base of her skull. At least, she thought she could.

The gardener returned his attention to the rose bush he’d been attending. “Everyone is entitled to their secrets, Your Majesty. But do not let appearances fool you. When I am not tending to the royal gardens, I am a shaman for our people.” He raised his pruning shears and snipped a few brittle leaves from the bush. He ran a finger under a dead bud, brown leaves brittle and its formerly glorious roses no more than a dark mush. “If left unattended, the rot that killed this little bud would spread to the rest of the plant. The roses would all die and the bush would wither until it was nothing but a tangled nest of briars. But all I have to do is trim this little bud and the sickness will be gone. The roses will flourish and be a testament to the grandness of this garden for years to come.”

Aiyana’s blood turned to icewater in her veins and she took a trembling step back. Power burned in her hands and she clenched them into fists, firmly holding them at her sides even as part of her yearned to leap at the man who dared to threaten her, however subtly. An image flew into her head, claws sprouting from her fingertips, fangs filling her mouth. He would cut my power from me. She could practically feel Okomi’s throat in her hands, feel the delicious rush of energy as his warm blood splashed the earth and spattered her face…

It would be easier, a voice inside her head whispered. You would not be a threat to your people. The nightmares would go.

Slowly, Aiyana calmed herself, breathing deeply until her heart resumed its normal sedate pace. “Easy to prune a plant. Not so easy with a human being.” Her voice came out hoarse, a rasping sound like wind through brittle reeds. She buried her fingernails in the folds of her cloak, blinking to rid herself of the image of ebony talons on the tips of her fingers. “Who’s to say if it’s too late, if the sickness has spread too far to be cut away and leave something worthwhile? If a person had…some sort of darkness in them, who’s to say it could be…pruned away?”

“A talent beyond my own means,” Okomi agreed, his attention still on the rose bush. He grasped a wilted petal on one of the roses and gently pulled it free. “But there is a powerful fairy that lives at the lake not far from Your Highness’ castle. She is a powerful creature of nature, and she has the power to cut the darkness from a human, to help that human’s energies to grow in more positive, beautiful ways, exactly as she would for a plant.”

Traitorous hope rose like a warm, comforting cloud inside her and Aiyana had to fortify herself against the foolish urge to rush right into the forest. “A fairy that powerful would want a substantial payment.”

“For anyone other than a princess, that would certainly be a problem.”

Gold? Would a fairy want gold for her services? Aiyana searched her memory for any old stories that told of the sort of payment a magical being might demand in exchange for their magic. “I thought fairies demanded service in exchange for service?”

“And is there some service you think she would ask of you that you would be unwilling to provide in exchange for removing the darkness inside you that frightens you so?”

Anger surged like an angry bear from deep inside Aiyana and she snarled. “I am not frightened, and I have admitted to feeling no such darkness. I—”

Okomi fumbled, nearly dropping his shears. The scent of blood stained the air, filled it with the heavy perfume of life, the gut-wrenching coppery temptation that plunged deep inside Aiyana and pulled at her guts, twisting them into knots even as her heart pounded a new, thundering rhythm. Her senses sharpened, the scent growing stronger as her gaze zeroed in on the small wound in Okomi’s thumb.

“Clumsy,” the gardener muttered to himself, clasping his other hand around the wound. Blood welled up in a fat droplet and slid down his hand.

Aiyana’s arms twitched with the urge to grab his arm, shove him down to the ground until the blood poured from his thumb directly into the earth. She wanted to drag curved claws over his throat, spill the precious coppery fluid faster until the earth was moist with his life-essence. The energy such an offering would produce, the energy she herself would reap… 

Her feet were moving before her mind could fully respond, before she could block the cries of the land she imagined she could hear. Only instead of launching her at the bleeding gardener, her legs carried her with inhuman speed back to the secret passage. Aiyana wove around through the grove of jacaranda trees with their pale blue-violet leaves, ducked through the curtain of hanging ivy, and passed through the tapered passage in the stone of the castle wall until she was swallowed by the familiar darkness of the passageway. Okomi didn’t call out for her, didn’t try to stop her. The shaman probably knew exactly what he’d done, what effect his blood had had on her.

He must have sensed the darkness in me. He deliberately tempted me to show me what a monster I am. What a danger I am to my people.

As she rushed through the gloomy passage, Aiyana warred with herself between wanting to punish the shaman for his insolence and beg his forgiveness for the horrible things she’d thought of doing to him. By the time she arrived back in her bedchamber, she was trembling with the internal struggle and sweat had broken out over her skin.

Aiyana stumbled from the secret passageway into her bedroom, not bothering to close the entrance behind her. Her body still trembled in the wake of the adrenaline that had nearly overwhelmed her system and she practically threw herself to her window, throwing open the panes of glass so she could suck in a fresh gulp of air. The scents of the roses reached her even here, filling her senses with their perfume. She closed her eyes and focused on the peaceful aroma, slowing her heartbeat.

Thump…thump…thump.

The roses in her mind shifted into drops of blood.

“Hungry.”

The thought wasn’t hers, didn’t come from inside her head.

Thumpthumpthump.

Aiyana’s eyes flew open and for a split second, she saw a dying land. The labyrinth of rosebushes were gnarled briars, brown and brittle, thorns sticking out like jagged teeth. They rolled around the land in a mockery of the neatly trimmed hedges that had once been there, balls of thorny branches knotted where the beautiful roses had once been. The rich black soil had withered to dirt so dry that the lightest breeze sent giant clouds of dust rising into the air like sickly dragons, rolling outward to choke anyone who dared to breathe too deeply. Even the beautiful azure sky had given up its healthy color, faded to a misty grey.

“Feed me.”

The land rumbled like the stomach of a ravenous beast and the tiny wound on Aiyana’s finger where she’d pricked herself on the thorns throbbed in time with the deep, craggy voice echoing in her head. She blinked, realizing that at some point she’d held out her finger, letting a fresh swell of blood drip down to the waiting ground below.

“More.”

Aiyana snatched her hand back, eyes wide. She blinked and the image in front of her wavered and shattered, showing her the land as it had always been once again. This time, though, the roses held no beauty, the earth did not smell so sweet. She could not rid herself of the foreboding image of the earth starving, couldn’t push that voice from her mind. The land wanted blood. It was hungry, needed more than a few drops.

Nightmares came back to her, filling her mind’s eye with bloody sacrifices, hearts being ripped from the flesh of young men. Blood and flesh offered to the land. Chanting…

“Aiyana, what is wrong?”

Aiyana nearly jumped out of her skin, whirling around and pressing her body back against the wall beside the window. Her wide eyes scanned her bedroom, probing the shadows. Movement in her peripheral vision snared her attention and she almost collapsed in relief as she recognized her intruder.

“Mother.”

The queen stood near one of the bed posts, her nightgown blending with the silken curtains hanging down from Aiyana’s bed. Her face was creased with worry, still slack from the sleep she’d no doubt been roused from. Brown eyes looked almost black in the shadows of the bedroom, but Aiyana imagined she could still see the disappointment there.

“Chayton was worried about you.” Her mother stepped around the bed, not approaching Aiyana, but standing in her full view now. “He says you seemed…unnerved.”

“You mean I scared him.” Aiyana didn’t bother to hide her disgust, her anger. “I frightened the guard who’s supposed to be protecting our people from me.”

“Aiyana, that’s not funny.”

Her mother took another step forward, letting the moonlight shining in the window bathe her face. The pain in her eyes stabbed at Aiyana and she looked away, crossing her arms as if she could protect herself from her mother’s worry.

“The guards are there to protect you. You are the princess, you are--”

“They are here to keep my secret.” Aiyana’s voice was soft as she interrupted her mother. She didn’t want to upset her, but nor did she want to continue pretending. The time for pretending was over the night she’d woken from a particularly terrifying nightmare to discover she’d shredded her bed, her wicked pearlescent claws still covered in bits of silk and cotton. All pretense had died when her mother had found her like that, when Aiyana had looked into her mother’s face and seen not surprise, but resignation.

“The Black God put his influence inside of you, Aiyana, but you were only a baby. It was not your fault and there’s no reason the people should be made aware of just how much influence the Black God’s blessing has been.”

The queen sat on the bed, patting the spot next to her. Aiyana ignored the invitation. She wasn’t in the mood to be coddled during this conversation. It hurt to look at her mother, so she turned her attention out the window.

“The dreams are getting worse.” She said it quietly, as if speaking the words too loudly would give them power somehow, make the nightmares a reality. She let them hang in the air, part of her praying her mother would speak up, would give her the meaningless reassurances that mothers were supposed to give their children.

“Aiyana, you must keep fighting. No one can know about your dreams, no one can know about the horrible urges the Black God planted inside you. Fight it, keep it locked away. Blood and death lie down that path. You must choose life for you and your people.”

Okomi’s voice rose to join her mother’s. “There is a powerful fairy that lives at the lake not far from Your Highness’ castle. She is a powerful creature of nature, and she has the power to cut the darkness from a human, to help that human’s energies to grow in more positive, beautiful ways, exactly as she would for a plant.”

Aiyana blinked and stared out over the land. Off in the distance, she could make out the great walls that surrounded the expansive castle grounds, protecting the villagers from the dangers that lurked in the thick forests beyond.

That’s where the fairy would be.

The treacherous voice hummed in Aiyana’s ear and she peered harder at the trees as if she would suddenly see through them to whatever magical creature lived there beside the lake Okomi had spoken of. What would the fairy be like? Surely there were good fairies. The balam were good, perhaps the fairy Okomi had spoken of was one of them?

“I will always choose life for my people.” Aiyana met her mother’s eyes, forcing a smile to her face. “Thank you, Mother. I think I’ll go to sleep now.”

A line appeared between her mother’s brows and on either side of her mouth. “Aiyana, you must not sneak out anymore.” She gestured toward the secret passage. “I’ll have that sealed if I have to. You cannot take any chances.”

You can’t take any chances that you’ll hurt our people, let out our dark secret, Aiyana finished for her in her mind. Her smile grew brittle, but she held onto it anyway. “Yes, Mother.”

The queen stood, clasping her hands in front of her. “Aiyana, I love you. More than you could ever know. I wish I had been able to protect you from this.”

Tears sprang out of nowhere, burning behind Aiyana’s eyes. She blinked to keep them away. “I know. I love you too.”

Aiyana waited until the door closed behind her mother, then she rushed across the room to bolt it closed.

“I am hungry. Feed me, Aiyana. Flesh and blood.”

The voice, the same ancient, grating voice, spoke to her. It seemed to come from inside her head, a presence she couldn’t escape. Her mother was right, she was a threat. She had to do whatever she could to help her people, to choose life for her kingdom. There was only one thing to do.

Mind made up, Aiyana whirled around and raced for the heavy carved wooden trunk that rested at the foot of her bed. She fumbled the latches open and flung the lid back. She pulled out a simple leather bag, beautifully embroidered with colored beads. With shaking hands, she packed a few essentials and then returned to the secret passage still standing open.

Better to face a fairy than live with the monster in the mirror.

Chapter Two

“Gentlemen, welcome to the Kingdom of Mu.”

Saamal raised his arms, gesturing at the land around him. It was a mockery of pride, the gesture rendered ridiculous by the dead sand-colored grass and the ominous ashen sky. The castle in front of them was nearly swallowed up by monstrous briar brushes, branches thicker than a human being reaching up like the tentacles of some great sea monster to wrap around the stone walls, curling around even the tallest towers until it looked like the entire structure was being swallowed by a spiny wooden kraken. Dust wafted into the air with every breeze, the wind carrying the sickly sweet scent of decay and dead plants.

As it always did, the sight of his own land twisted Saamal’s heart in his chest, a vicious tugging that only came from guilt. He had allowed his land to waste away—his choices had brought it to this. Maybe if he had stayed even after he gave up so much of his power, maybe if he hadn’t spent so much time searching for temporary power, for a way to protect himself from his enemies, perhaps… He put a hand to his heart, pressing against the rough fabric of his tunic in a vain attempt to ease the pressure.

“It’s a very large kingdom.” Adonis’s voice held that light edge of attempted comfort, but it was overwhelmed by the acknowledgment that the situation was beyond a silver lining. The demon ran a hand through his mop of brown hair, eyes flickering over the overgrown brush trying to consume the castle. “I—”

“What have you done to it?” Etienne shifted on his feet, eyes flickering from brown to gold as if even the beast inside him were uncomfortable standing in the dead kingdom. A wrinkle of disgust teased his nose and a severe line between his eyes condemned Saamal for allowing such a fate to befall his kingdom.

Saamal tensed, but offered no defense. What defense was there to offer? The evidence of his failure was all around them.

“Etienne, a little tact? Honestly, and you were raised as a prince.”

“Yes, I was, Adonis, and that’s why I know that it’s the responsibility of the king to see that his land is protected, nurtured.” Anger warmed Etienne’s voice as he faced Saamal. “This—”

“Exactly, it’s the king’s job.” Adonis put himself between Etienne and Saamal. Even without his horns and wings, the demon was a few inches taller than Etienne, and he drew himself up to his full height as he stared hard at the werewolf. “Saamal is the prince, not the king, Etienne.”

It had been a long time since Saamal had even considered explaining himself to anyone, had even needed to explain the way his kingdom worked. He could hardly fault Adonis for not knowing. After all, he did not come from a kingdom that had been created with flesh and blood. He did not know how closely Saamal was tied to this land.

“Adonis, your defense is appreciated, but unfortunately undeserved.” Saamal pivoted slowly in a semi circle, forcing himself to face his once thriving land, to see the ruin that had come to it, feel it. The dull ache in the back of his head that never went away, grew in intensity. “I am the prince of this land by virtue of betrothal to the king’s daughter.” He lowered his voice. “By blood, I am the king.”

“You’re what?” Etienne and Adonis spoke in unison.

Saamal smiled, though the sentiment did not reflect his heart. “I am the supreme ruler of this kingdom, tied to the land by flesh, blood, and magic. I created this world. Every king who wishes to rule, shares his blood with me, and I with him. At the coronation ritual, the king spills his blood onto the land as an offering, a binding. He ties himself to the land that he claims rulership over so that he may prosper only as the land prospers, and he will suffer as the land suffers. It is our agreement, our bond, that allows the land to thrive.”

Both Etienne and Adonis glanced around as they listened to the last part, and a bitter laugh escaped Saamal. “What you see around you is a result of my own foolishness. After I gave the balam half my power to curb the curse laid on my future bride, it put my Aiyana into a deep sleep that we did not know when she would wake from. The balam worried that Aiyana would be distressed to wake with no one she knew around her, whether because those she’d known had aged to a point she did not recognize them, or because they had died and been replaced. I was foolish, led by the balam into thinking of the individual instead of the whole for the first time in my existence. I allowed her to put the rest of the castle to sleep, so that they might wake at the same time Aiyana wakes.”

“The king,” Etienne guessed.

Saamal nodded grimly. “As the king went to sleep, his vitality stopped feeding the land. Since the holy men were part of the castle’s population as well, there was also no one left to oversee the sacrifices. Without the sustenance it was the king’s duty to provide, the earth suffered until it is as you see it now.” He looked across the land, unable to swallow past the lump in his throat. “Barren.”

“Did you say…sacrifice?” Adonis’ eyes bored into Saamal’s, a strange emotion flickering in the brief sparks of cinnamon in the hazel depths. “What kind of sacrifice?”

Saamal met the demon’s eyes without flinching. “There is much you do not know about my kingdom. Do not judge when you do not understand.”

There was a strained silence, emphasized rather than broken by the wind through the brittle briars. Saamal could feel the weight of Etienne’s scrutiny on him as well, but he didn’t take his eyes from Adonis. This was it. This was the time he would find out if he could believe Eurydice, if he could believe that he was no longer alone in his quest to wake Aiyana from her sleep and save his kingdom.

“There was a time the people thought sacrificing a virgin was a good way to curry favor with an incubus.”

Saamal paused. It took him a moment to shift his thoughts and follow Adonis’ new line of conversation. “Indeed?”

Adonis rolled his eyes. “Ridiculous, right? Why on earth would an incubus be pleased to see a perfectly good virgin—”

“Get to the point, Adonis.” Etienne crossed his arms.

“We can talk about sacrifice later,” Adonis finished. “But we will talk about it later?”

“Is it your intention to tell me how to run my kingdom, Adonis?” Saamal kept his voice calm. The demon knew nothing about this kingdom, nothing about what it took, what it had taken… There’d been a time he would have killed Adonis for questioning him. Fortunately for the demon, a century of forced humility had taught Saamal restraint.

“You know me better than to think I want to tell you how to run your kingdom.” Adonis’ face hardened. “But if you’re talking about human sacrifice…” He stopped, pursed his lips. “Some things are not acceptable. If Kirill is right, and whatever Eurydice has planned is going to keep us in each other’s lives, then I need to know what sort of person you are before we go on.” He glanced at the castle for a long moment. “I’m willing to put the conversation off until we can make sure Aiyana is safe. But after that…”

The image of Aiyana lying in her bed, still as death even after a century, moved Saamal to incline his head, his eyes still locked on Adonis’. “We will talk later.”

Etienne furrowed his eyebrows. “If a sacrifice is needed to keep the land healthy, and the king is no longer able to lead the sacrifice, then why don’t you perform them yourself?”

Saamal stiffened, then reminded himself that though Etienne was perhaps a little more familiar with the flesh and blood aspect of existence, he was painfully unfamiliar with the divine. “A sacrifice is offered to gods, not by gods. If gods were to sacrifice to themselves, the sacrifice would have no meaning, no power. It would be murder, not sacrifice.”

Adonis opened his mouth, then closed it as if thinking better of what he’d been about to say. Etienne remained silent, appearing to be mulling over Saamal’s words. Saamal took advantage of the silence. He left his companions to their thoughts as he closed his eyes and opened his senses, listening without his ears to the wheeze of the wind. Though the air no longer answered to him as it once did, he could still hear its voice, gather information from its swells. The breeze ran invisible fingers through his hair, swirled around his head, breathing words into his ears in a language that had him aching for a simpler time. He clenched his teeth, forcing his mind to the present. There was nothing new to learn, nothing that had happened in his absence. Everything was silent.

A sudden growl from behind him prompted Saamal to open his eyes. He found Etienne staring off into the beginning of the maze of briars that surrounded the palace. His eyes had bled to the golden amber of his wolf and the sound trickling out of his throat had the hair on the back of Saamal’s neck standing up. The werewolf hunched over, the muscles of his arms and back swelling, stopping short of growing fur and moving him from human to half beast. He took a step in the direction of the brush and bared glistening canines at the darkness.

Adonis crouched slightly, rising onto the balls of his feet and scanning the environment with eyes that had bled to hellish crimson though he remained solidly in human form. “What is it?”

“Predator.” Etienne’s voice was thick, a low, gravelly sound that was more animal than human.

Familiar spirits danced in Saamal’s awareness, so familiar they were more an extension of his own consciousness. He held up a placating hand to his companions. “There are jaguars that live in the briars. They are guardians, loyal to me even in my reduced state. They will not harm you and I must ask you not to harm them.”

Etienne’s skin shivered and he narrowed his eyes to amber slits. He took a step back, but his gaze didn’t waver and his stance remained alert, aggressive.

“Why don’t we move inside?” Adonis armed himself with his usual easy smile and headed in the direction of the front door, his stride approaching his signature swagger. He waved a hand in the air and a cigarette appeared between his fingertips. The faint scent of cloves trickled into the air as he rolled the vice between his fingertips a few times, then blew on the end. The tip burst into bright tangerine flame. A cloud of smoke enveloped him as he sucked in a chestful of smoke and exhaled through his nostrils, eyes glowing a bright cherry red and giving him a draconic appearance amidst the smoke. “Shall we?”

Saamal obligingly led them into the mess of briars. Wood groaned around him, sharp thorns cracking as the enchanted woods pulled aside to allow him through. “The balam coaxed the briars to grow as a sort of protection spell to guard the sleeping palace. I don’t fully understand the enchantment, but I have yet to have a problem with them.”

“An enchanting welcome.”

Etienne groaned at Adonis’ quip and Saamal shook his head. His companions stayed close, following in his wake, and for a moment, Saamal reflected on how strange it was to not be alone as he travelled this path. It wasn’t an entirely unpleasant sensation.

“What is your castle built from?” Etienne ran a hand over the baluster leading up to the front door, brow furrowed as he stared at the smooth carved surface.

“Looks like brimstone.” Adonis leaned back, peering up at the towers rising like spearheads into the sky. “The skyline of the whole place looks like it’d be more at home in some monster’s mouth. I’ve never seen towers come to quite that fine a point.”

“The stone looks like it’s actually drinking the light.” Etienne glanced over his shoulder at Saamal. “Is it brimstone?”

Saamal lifted a shoulder in a tired shrug. “I don’t believe the castle was originally constructed from brimstone. It is more likely that the drain on my land has drawn the life from the stone, reduced it to a darker state.”

Etienne narrowed his eyes. “Stone isn’t alive.”

“Everything is alive, my friend,” Saamal corrected him. He kept his eyes on the front door, resisting the urge to look at the land behind him. “Everything can be robbed of its energy, left to wither and die. Why do you think stone crumbles?”

The werewolf fell silent, the lines between his brows remaining. Saamal took the lead as they reached the front door. The massive wood creaked as he drew the doors open, a sound befitting the mood of the eerily silent palace. They progressed into the main foyer and a rustle of clothing caught Saamal’s attention. Etienne was stripping out of his clothes—a process that did not take long, since the trousers were all he wore.

It took him a moment to think of what to say. “Are you uncomfortable, Etienne?”

The werewolf rolled his shoulders, standing naked as he took in his surroundings. “I’m going to shift and have a look around, make sure there’s no one here who shouldn’t be. Who’s supposed to be here?”

“Everyone.”

Adonis and Etienne both frowned. Saamal pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I told you, the balam put the entire palace to sleep. They will wake after Aiyana wakes. Until then, the castle’s entire population, from king to servant, is all here, all having fallen asleep in the midst of their duties.”

Adonis paused with his cigarette halfway to his lips. “Will it affect us?”

“No. It was meant to work on all who were present at the time of casting, so there should not be anything to fear for you.”

“Perhaps, but what about you?” Adonis mused.

“What do you mean? I am not affected.”

“Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t. You live here, don’t you? This is where you stay?”

“For the last few decades, yes. I stay here to make sure no harm comes to Aiyana.”

“Well, constant exposure to this level of spell, regardless of who it’s supposed to affect, would be quite a strain. Maybe this is why you are always so…subdued?”

The demon’s suggestion was interesting, though Saamal doubted its validity. It was more likely that the subdued nature Adonis referred to was a result of having half of his lifeforce sucked out of him.

Etienne cleared his throat. “So everyone I encounter should be sleeping. No one here should be awake?”

“Yes.”

Etienne inclined his head once, tilted it side to side, stretching the thick muscles in his neck. The change came over his body in an invigorating rush of energy that Saamal could feel like a warm summer wind, filled with the scent of new leaves and wet earth. Saamal closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. Being in the proximity of such a rush made his blood flow a little faster, his spirits rising ever so slightly. He opened his eyes in time to see Etienne’s muscles surge under his skin. Brown fur erupted along his flesh, swallowing his human skin in the pelt of a brown wolf. He fell to the ground, hands slamming into the floor as his legs snapped at the knees and bent the other direction, reforming into a quadruped’s form. He bowed his head, chest heaving as he breathed through the change. Sharp claws scrabbled at the stone floor and as the last twitch of his body heralded the completion of the change. He raised his snout and howled. He sniffed at the air and then took off, racing into the next room.

“I assume the lovely Aiyana is in the tower.” Adonis puffed on his cigarette and gestured at the stairs. “Shall we proceed?”

Saamal glanced at Adonis, a quirk in his eyebrow. “How do you know Aiyana is in the tower?”

Adonis swept in the direction of the grand staircase in the center of the room. “The princess is always in the tower.”

Another howl echoed around the castle before Saamal could formulate a proper response. A sudden chill raced down his back like the sharp slide of an icicle. The well of remaining power inside him opened wide and he drew deeply from it as he dashed through the grand hall, following the howl through to the kitchens and down into the servants’ quarters. His heart pounded as he finally dashed into the room the howl was originating from.

Etienne, still in wolf form, was crouched inside the doorway, facing an unconscious servant. The werewolf’s lips were pulled back, white teeth bright in the dim light. The man he was agitated by was average height, as far as Saamal could tell from looking at him lying on the floor, his skin a honeyed brown, black hair cut short and close to his head. He was curled slightly on his side, seeming to have gone to sleep in the middle of dressing for his shift. He wore the uniform of a cook.

“What is it?” Saamal demanded. “One of the cooks?”

Adonis spoke from behind him. “He doesn’t seem any different than any of the others.”

Suddenly, Etienne darted forward, closing his jaws on the footman’s hand in a vicious bite. The man screamed and shot up from the floor. Etienne released his hand and leapt back, still facing the footmen with a menacing sound rumbling in his throat.

The servant clutched his injured hand to his chest and scowled up at Saamal. “You always were a beast, Jaguar King, but now you’ve really gone to the dogs.” The cook’s lip curled up at one side, as if amused by his own joke.

Saamal opened his mouth to respond, but the words died on his lips as the footman’s appearance shifted. The chiseled, pale features darkened into a burnished copper hue. Human brown eyes became gold and now when he parted his lips, his canines were far too sharp to be human. His eyes sparkled with mischief, but the effect was somewhat ruined by the jagged smile.

Anger flared like a hearthfire in a draft, scorching Saamal from the inside out. His power took a sharper edge, and something primal woke inside him. “Coyote.” Saamal spat the name like a curse, clenching his hands into fists as he resisted the urge to give in to his power and let his animal spirit rise. “You are not welcome here. Leave now, while you can still do so under your own power.”

Warm energy riled beside him as Etienne shifted, rising up on two legs. His form grew broader, taller, but he did not take on his human form. He continued to grow, bulking up until he stood beside Saamal in a combination of human and wolf, a hulking monster right out of a child’s nightmare. His muscled back bowed, massive arms ending in long-fingered hands tipped with wicked black claws. His glowing gold eyes bored into the trickster still sitting on the floor.

“He reeks of sinicuichi.” Etienne’s voice was rough, gravelly. He tilted his head to the side, eyeing Coyote and flexing his claws.

Saamal took a menacing step in Coyote’s direction, hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Sinicuichi? You’ve been trying to reach Aiyana.” Heat flowed through his body, awakening nerve endings, coaxing muscles he hadn’t stretched in ages to move, slide against the bones they were wrapped around. His skin itched as fur sprouted, pale gold with jet black spots. An ache erupted in his jaw as his mouth filled with razor fine points. Bones cracked and moved and his clothing stretched, tearing in places when it couldn’t stretch any farther. Scents grew sharper, filling his nostrils with the musky odor of the trickster standing in front of him, a lighter scent than wolf, but still canine.

Coyote’s amused expression didn’t waver. If anything, he appeared more relaxed as he reclined on the floor, propping his head up on one hand. “Still with that horrible temper.” He clucked his tongue in disapproval. “Not the way for a husband to behave. Whatever would your wife say?”

The urge to tear out the trickster’s throat rose hot and strong, but Saamal shoved it away as best he could. “Coyote. What were you doing in the Dreamworld?”

“The Dreamworld?” Coyote put a hand to his chest. “Why would I want to go to the Dreamworld? No, no, I was merely…trying out a new herb. I thought sinicuichi might be precisely what I needed to give the king’s favorite stew a little—”

Saamal swept an arm out, snatching Coyote from the ground. The trickster twitched as if he’d tried to get out of the way, but Saamal was faster. It wasn’t until he held Coyote up by the neck of his uniform, saw the trickster dangling, muscles weak, that he realized the sinicuichi had weakened him.

“You should have done more research, Coyote,” Saamal taunted him. “You’ve left yourself very vulnerable.”

“You’re one to talk,” Coyote countered, smirking. “I’m not the one who had to go into hiding.”

Saamal tightened his hand on Coyote’s shirt, imagining it was his neck he was holding and all the damage he could do to the trickster…

“I am low on patience today, Coyote.” His voice came out low and strained. “What. Are. You. Doing. Here?”

“Don’t get your tail in a knot, Jaguar King,” Coyote tsked. “I was only saying hi to the future queen. No need to get testy.”

“You will stay away from her.” The words crawled out of Saamal’s throat, painful to speak. The thought of the trickster anywhere near his bride-to-be when he himself had yet to meet her, speak with her, drove him to the brink of insanity. He flexed his fingers, all too aware of the talons extending from his fingertips, claws he could use to permanently wipe the smirk from Coyote’s face with so very little effort…

Coyote met his eyes, raising his hands to hold Saamal’s fist and pull himself up. He leaned closer, putting his mouth as close to Saamal’s ear as he could. “I will do what I please. Stop me if you can.”

Pain flared in twin white hot lines down Saamal’s stomach. Coyote had shifted his legs into animal form as they’d dangled from his body held in Saamal’s grip, hidden by the pants of his uniform. He dug his hind legs into the wounds he’d created with his sharp claws and used Saamal’s body as a springboard, sending searing paths of agony streaking down Saamal’s flesh. The cloth of his cook’s uniform ripped easily, damaged as it already was by Saamal’s claws, and the trickster landed in full animal form, a sleek caramel-colored coyote.

Coyote’s agility was unequaled, and the entire acrobatic endeavor had taken mere seconds. Slowed by the wounds in his chest, Saamal missed the trickster’s tail as he shot by him. Etienne dove for Coyote, but he was too fast for the towering, half-shifted werewolf. Adonis flicked his cigarette at the fleeing trickster and the smell of burning fur followed Coyote out of the room as he escaped.

Saamal threw back his head and screamed, a high shrieking sound only a cat could make. He brought one of his hands down, dragging his claws through the uniform and tearing it to ribbons as he vented his frustration.

“I’ll kill him,” Saamal promised, putting a hand to his bloody midsection to staunch the flow of blood. “I’ll scatter his bones and make a rug from his hide.”

Etienne faced Adonis, eyes glowing with fury. “Your cigarette? That was your contribution, throwing a cigarette on him?”

“It was a knee-jerk reaction!” Adonis held up his hands and took a step back from the glowering werewolf. He glanced from Etienne to Saamal. “Shifters are so damn touchy.” He cleared his throat and tilted his head. “Speaking of shifters… Saamal?”

Saamal heaved a deep breath, blinking the red haze from his eyes. He paused as Adonis quirked an eyebrow at him expectantly.  Confusion knitted his eyebrows as he noticed Etienne was also eyeing him, suspicion etched into his wolfish features. The werewolf’s nostrils flared and his golden eyes flickered over Saamal’s new form. Saamal realized he was in half-jaguar form—an ability the others hadn’t known he had.

“I am not a shifter,” he corrected Adonis, grunting as his body fought to heal his wounds. Coyote hadn’t been trying to gut him, or else his insides would be bulging out, but the miscreant had done enough damage to leave an impression—one he would pay for as soon as Saamal could get his claws on him. “This is merely a form I can take if I so choose.”

“Can you become a full jaguar?” Etienne asked.

“If I had my full power, yes. But not now.” Saamal gestured at his body, a mirror of Etienne’s own save for his bestial half being jaguar instead of wolf. “This half-beast form is as far as my transformation can go.”

“Well, as long as Etienne isn’t experiencing an overwhelming urge to chase you, I think we’ll be all right,” Adonis joked.

The incubus’ innate humor, which Saamal was usually content to indulge, grated on his nerves like a rusted blade severing a diseased limb. “Coyote has been visiting Aiyana,” he ground out. “I must get to her and see what mischief he has caused. There is no time for jokes.”

“I’m sorry—”

Saamal left the room, ignoring Adonis’ apology. His skin sizzled with a discomforting sensation, as though fire ants were marching all over him, a trembling inside him driving him to break into a run to Aiyana’s room.

Fool! he cursed himself. Coyote was here! You were too reliant on mortal animals, too comfortable in the security of the briars. You let him in here, near Aiyana. Gruesome images filled Saamal’s mind, horrible ways Aiyana could have been hurt in his absence. Coyote was not typically physically violent, but he was unpredictable. If harming Aiyana would advance whatever plan had come into his head, then he wouldn’t hesitate to do so.

I’ll kill him, Saamal promised himself again.

Footsteps sounded behind him, the brush of bare feet and the clicking of claws. Still annoyed by Adonis’ gaiety in the midst of a dire situation, Saamal didn’t bother to slow down. Etienne could follow him easily by scent, he had no concern that he would lose them.

Saamal didn’t have to think as he trudged up the winding staircase, was too used to the path. Instead of concentrating on the uneven steps that led up to the tower, he was plagued with a soreness in his jaw, the horrible ache that came with wanting to attack his prey and being robbed of the opportunity. He could feel Coyote’s skull in his jaws, feel the bone crack as he bit down, spraying blood and brains to the earth. If that trickster had harmed Aiyana…

He ambled up the stairs a little faster, his bulky form making it a tighter fit in the narrow stairway. Another growl trickled from his throat and he roared as he raced up the last half of the stairs and landed with a leap on the floor outside Aiyana’s chambers. He strode into the room, his attention immediately going to her bed, illuminated by the wall sconces that burned perpetually in her lonely tower as well as the growing light of the coming morning that spilled in through her window.

Aiyana remained as beautiful as ever. Raven hair spilling in a silken sheet to her elbows, reddish brown features smooth in sleep like the face of a perfectly carved clay statue. High cheekbones cast delicate shadows on her cheeks, and her soft lips called to him, urged him to kiss her again. Perhaps this time it would work…

His jaguar form melted away as the sight of her washed away his ire. Extra muscles, fur, and claws dissolved into energy and soaked back into his being, settling into the well of magic that remained at his center. The clothing that had been torn during his transformation went limp against his body, too damaged to fit properly again. He ran a hand through his hair. If she were to wake up, what would she think of him? A tired old man, dressed in rags, gawking at her like a sinner looking upon the face of a goddess.

“Oh, thank the gods. Coyote didn’t hurt her.”

Adonis’ voice stirred Saamal’s anger, but he shoved that emotion away. The demon was here to help him contact Aiyana, now was not the time to let his temper muddy the waters. “Coyote prefers games to war, trickery to violence. Just because he hasn’t caused her physical harm, doesn’t mean he is innocent. If he has been interacting with Aiyana, it is no doubt part of some game he is playing, and it is too early to guess what his goal is this time.”

Adonis produced a small vial from a pouch at his side. “Well, we’d better get you to her then so you can find out.” He held up the brown glass, tilting it so the light reflected on the golden liquid glowing within. “You’ll need to drink all of this. I can make more, but it will take most of the day since the sun needs considerable time to infuse the herb. After you drink it, lie down and let yourself fall asleep. You’ll remain conscious of what you’re doing, but reality will shift around you. Don’t fight it, let your spirit rise to the astral plane.”

“I will be here guarding you both, so do not worry.” Etienne tilted his head from side to side, cracking his neck. “If Coyote comes back, I will hold him for you.”

Saamal clenched his hands into fists. “Keep him alive. If he comes back, I will kill him myself.”

Adonis tensed, then held the vial away and fixed Saamal with a stern look. “Obviously I need to explain a few things about the astral plane. It isn’t reality. Nothing on the astral plane is written in stone, so to speak. It’s fluid, subjective. If you go there angry, you can draw some very bad things to you. The land itself can become scary if you put that kind of emotion into it.” Adonis stepped back. “So, if you don’t want to terrify your princess, take a deep breath, and reach for your happy place.” He demonstrated, chest rising and falling as he mimed a deep breath.

Saamal held his hands to his sides, resisting the urge to snatch the vial from Adonis and shake the incubus until his hazel eyes rattled like marbles in his skull. “Happy place. Understood.”

“There’s one more thing.” Adonis pressed his lips together, observing Saamal for a moment as if the god wouldn’t like what he had to say next.

Saamal rubbed a hand over his face. “Yes, Adonis?”

“You told me that you gave up half your power to this woman. Now you’re going to the astral plane, a realm where reality has less to do with what you see and feel than what you’re thinking and feeling.”

“And?”

The incubus’ eyes glowed red. “Remember who you are now. You are going to the astral plane to win the affections of the woman you would have as your bride. You desire to win her heart, to wake her up. Regardless of how you feel on the astral plane, however powerful and invincible you may feel, after you come back to the physical plane, you will be as you are now.” He face grew serious, all traces of humor gone. “The consequences of your actions on the astral plane will follow you here.”

“What are you talking about?” Saamal tried to keep his frustration in check, tried to remind himself that Adonis was only being cautious. He eyed the vial, already imagining himself on the astral plane, meeting Aiyana, speaking with her. He might be on the cusp of breaking a curse that had lasted over a century, why was the incubus dragging his feet now? The urge to throttle Adonis grew.

“He’s saying you’re going to feel like your old powerful self once you’re with the girl on the astral plane,” Etienne growled. “He’s warning you not to let the power go to your head and make you into the arrogant bastard that betrothed yourself to a child in order to get more power in the first place.”

The words lacked venom, but even without it, the sentiment was surprising coming from Etienne. Saamal blinked at him for a moment, reevaluating the mercurial werewolf. “Duly noted.”

The incubus finally gave up the vial and Saamal quickly uncorked it and drank it. The elixir was as thick as honey, and bittersweet. It slid down his throat, and everywhere it passed, Saamal’s muscles relaxed. A warm, buzzing sensation filled him and his eyelids drooped.

“I’m certain I told you to lie down,” Adonis muttered.

The demon’s voice sounded far away. Saamal didn’t argue as he and Etienne grabbed him by the shoulders, catching him as his knees buckled. He felt himself being eased down to the floor, but by the time the cold stone was against his back, he was far from caring.

Darkness closed over him. A feeling of weightlessness overcame him and he experienced a strange sensation of rising without moving. He drifted with the feeling, lost in the sensation until he became aware that he was no longer lying on the castle floor. With a jolt, Saamal opened his eyes.