To Esania’s horror, she found Mael up in the tower room with Sara. He sat to one side of the room, on the floor, his legs crossed, eyes closed.

As far away from Sara as possible.

A chill spread through the air. It wasn’t just her imagination. The temperature was definitely lower in here.

Almost as if he were meditating, Mael’s obsidian hands rested on his knees, and his face appeared smooth and emotionless. His bare chest glistened in the artificial light.

There was a stillness about him that was completely unnerving.

Sara sat in the grand old Drakhin chair on the other side of the room, watching him warily, the way one might look at a sleeping tiger.

But there was also a hint of fascination in her eyes.

Thankfully, Mael was well outside Sara’s radius. From that distance, he wouldn’t absorb any of her vir.

Still, Esania was horrified. They shouldn’t be here together… alone.

“What are you doing, Mael?” Esania snapped, making large strides across the floor, stopping just outside his radius. She didn’t want anyone taking her energy except for Imril, and as terrifying as Mael was, she no longer feared him.

If he and Imril had come to some sort of agreement, then they were safe for now. Besides, if anything happened to her, Imril would be furious.

“Leave.” Mael had the audacity to make a dismissive gesture with his hand, even as his eyes remained closed. “Do you know how hard it is to try and maintain two shadowveils at once?”

“It would help if I actually knew what a shadowveil was.”

“An extension of my will. My power. A barrier constructed from nothingness, designed to keep out the most irritating intruders. On a good day, I can kill those who come into contact with it by draining their life-force. On a bad day, it becomes patchy, imperfect, full of holes. That’s why the Naaga have been appearing in your forests recently. They got out, because I had other, more pressing issues to attend to.” He sighed. “I can’t be everywhere at once. Does that answer your question, human?”

“I…” Irritated by his tone, which was dismissive and bored-sounding, she shook her head. Mael’s explanation of his powers was baffling, but also revealing. “I take it Imril has asked you to protect the eyrie in his absence. Do you have to do it from here, of all places? There are four other towers to choose from.” Her protective instinct kicked in, overriding any sense of caution. Imril had let Mael into his house, so she no longer feared he would harm them, but she didn’t trust him… not one bit.

“We were talking,” Mael snapped back, sounding equally terse, his brow creasing slightly. In the soft artificial light, his dark face shimmered, making him look like an obsidian statue. Just like Imril, there was a sense of agelessness about him. “We are still talking.”

Esania definitely felt like the intruder here.

“I’m okay,” Sara said softly, and for someone who had been spending time alone with an irritable immortal shadow-wielding alien, she seemed quite fine. “Mael said I can leave anytime I want. I don’t think he’s in a position to try anything crazy right now, anyway. He’s, uh, got a lot on his shoulders.”

Calm. Relaxed. Serene.

That’s how Sara appeared.

The complete opposite of how Esania had had felt when Imril abducted her.

Had Sara fallen under Mael’s spell? Was she in the grip of some sort of Stockholm syndrome? No, Sara wasn’t the sort to be so easily influenced.

But then Esania remembered all too well how quickly she’d become entranced with Imril. He wasn’t aware of how dangerously seductive he was, that strange-yet-irresistible combination of sheer power and arrogance and vulnerability drawing her to him like a fly to honey.

Maybe these ancient Drakhin exuded some sort of aura or glamor that affected humans.

Anything was possible on this planet, after all.

Aware that Mael’s eyes were still closed, Esania raised her eyebrows questioningly. Sara frowned and made a gesture with her hand. It’s okay. Go.

Are you sure?

“I’ll be fine.” Sara actually mouthed the words. “Go.”

“Unlike my brother, I’m not a tyrant,” Mael drawled, as if he’d somehow understood their silent communication. “I’m not going to hurt Sara, and I’m not going to feed from her either. Leave us, human.”

There was the imperious Drakhin. In some ways, he was so similar to his brother, but at the same time, so different.

“I…. can’t leave you alone with her.”

“And what do you think you’re going to do? Even with all your weapons and the Vradhu at your side, you still wouldn’t be able to stop me if I really wanted to get away with it.”

He had a point.

“Enough, human. I’m only tolerating your insolence because my brother likes you…” His eyes snapped open for just a spilt second, revealing twin pools of inky blackness. It wasn’t just the iris or pupil that were pure black. The entire orb of each eye had turned into liquid obsidian. “You are fortunate you bear the beginnings of his elgida.”

But he didn’t elaborate. Instead, Mael raised his hand. Quiet. His features twisted into a look of intense concentration as he closed his eyes again.

Scary. What was that all about?

It was as if the very darkness he manipulated had infused his soul.

She didn’t want to provoke him any further. With a sigh, Esania turned to Sara. Let’s go. She gestured toward the door.

Sara shook her head. Nope.

Are you kidding me? Esania glanced back at Mael. You want to stay here… with him?

Sara shrugged. It’s okay.

Appearing to be in some sort of trance, Mael began to mutter to himself, and the temperature dropped just a little bit more. Sara didn’t seem to mind; she had a cozy blanket wrapped around her legs.

Seriously, what was keeping Sara here? How could she be so certain that Mael was trustworthy… that he posed no threat to her or her unborn child?

Just a few days ago, he’d viciously attacked Imril.

Esania thought about physically dragging Sara out of here, but decided against it. Ignoring her screaming instincts, Esania took a deep breath. Are you sure?

As if reading her mind, Mael sighed. “I understand why you might be feeling protective of Sara, Esania Lafitte, but she can speak for herself.”

“I sure can.”

“I know that. Wait… how did you know my last na—”

“The Hythra told me.” Mael unfurled his sinuous black tail, taking it into his left hand. There was a distinct snap.

“What are you doi—”

His eyes were still closed. Cerulean blood trickled down his forearm. Something long and sharp protruded from his fist.

His… barb?

“Why did you do that, Mael?” Sara was on her feet, looking shocked.

“It’ll grow back,” he said through gritted teeth. “A Drakhin barb is almost as poisonous as a Vradhu’s. You need it more than I.”

“What the hell, Mael?” Sara glared at the Drakhin, but he still didn’t open his eyes.

“Your friend doesn’t trust me, so I’m giving this to you as a sign of my good intentions. There is enough poison in there to take down even me.”

“You’re affected by your own poison?”

“A flaw in the Ancestor’s design.” He sighed and rolled it across the floor. It came to rest at the foot of the chair, just before Sara’s boots.

“I don’t need that, Mael,” Sara protested, looking horrified. “Are you kidding me? I’m not going to stab you with a fucking poison barb.”

“Take it. My gift to you. You never know when it might come in useful. Khira is a dangerous place.”

Esania stared at the barb. It was long and sharp-tipped, made of a smooth, hard material that looked like black ivory. Mael’s strange blue blood had already dried, leaving a striking abstract pattern on the hilt-like end.

Gingerly, Sara picked up the barb… literally a piece of Mael. “Is this even safe to handle?” She took great care not to touch the tip.

“It’s encased in a natural sheath,” Mael said calmly. “The poison won’t be exposed until the moment of penetration.”

“How convenient.” Sara stared down at the thing, a look of bemusement crossing her face. “How… thoughtful of you, Mael.”

A ghost of a smile played across Mael’s lips for just a fraction of a second.

Esania looked at him long and hard. “Mael, why do you have this, and yet Imril doesn’t?”

For a long, uncomfortable moment, Mael was silent, and Esania wondered if she’d pushed him too far. With Mael, it was hard to tell.

“I cut it off,” Mael said at last, his voice distant, his expression like stone. “During a fight we had, a long time ago. It never grew back. The bastard doesn’t need it, anyway. He’s too strong for his own good—when he chooses to be.”

A chill ran through her. “And this enemy of his, this…”

“Nykithus,” Mael hissed. “The Naaga are under his command.”

“What are Imril’s chances of defeating him? I mean, he’s on his own. I assume this Nykithus has resources, an army, weapons at his disposal. Is Imril in danger?” The thought of something happening to him scared the hell out of her. He was so powerful, so sure of himself, but she’d also sensed a kind of desperation in him… beneath the hard, perfect exterior, he was a little unhinged.

Weren’t they all?

“Tch. I am not worried for my brother at all.” Mael opened his eyes again. They were back to normal. “He hasn’t explained anything to you, has he?”

“There’s a lot to cover,” she said tersely. Besides, he can’t… we can’t stand to be in each other’s presence for too long without going insane.

Mael clearly didn’t understand the exquisite pain of desire; of being close enough to smell, touch, feel that person… yet all the while, something—an invisible barrier—forced them apart.

“Fine,” Mael snapped. “Just remember this. He is Imril, son of Acheros. We might be Drakhin, but our father was pure Auka.”

Auka? He pronounced the word with a strange inflection, producing a sound that could never be replicated by a human.

The word itself was enough to send a chill down her spine, and she didn’t know why.

Sara was being unusually quiet, too.

“You don’t even know what that is, do you, human?” Mael’s voice was hollow and distant, taking on an otherworldly quality… as if he were caught between two dimensions. “Pray that you never, ever have to find out.”

And Imril was half… Auka.

It didn’t matter.

Esania took a deep breath and concentrated, remembering how it felt to be close to him, to have him trace the elgida over her hand with such gentle precision, how he somehow knew to pull back just at the right moment, just when it was becoming too much…

And to have him draw on her power, to need her, their souls momentarily connected.

She didn’t care who—or what—had sired him.

Her elgida throbbed in response to the memory of his touch. The pink lines had intensified, turning a deep shade of crimson, and her hand was shiny from the aminac—a fragrant smelling sap-like substance—that she’d rubbed into it. With time, the swelling would subside, and she would be left with very fine bronze scars.

His mark.

She could feel him. He was far, far away, and the sensation was faint, but she could definitely feel him. Anger pulsed through their bond, along with a deep feeling of…

Sadness.

“Imril is my mate,” she said softly, glaring at Mael as she rubbed her arms, trying to ward off the cold. “I can’t help but worry about him, but if you tell me he can handle this, then that’s some small comfort.”

Sara’s eyes were as wide as saucers at this point. “Fucking brilliant,” she murmured.

“My brother might be a pompous, arrogant ass, but he has the strength to match.” Mael raised his hands, shadows trailing from his fingertips. He began to trace strange symbols in the air, and the very sight of his graceful, slender hand moving in such a manner raised the fine hairs on her arms and the back of her neck. “All will be fine. Now, can you leave us, human? I have been excessively patient with you.”

In the past few minutes, Esania’s impression of Mael had changed drastically. “Sara?”

“It’s cool. Seriously, Es, don’t worry. As you said, this isn’t the Serakhine.”

Esania dipped her head in respectful agreement as she bowed out, leaving pregnant Sara in the company of an irritable Drakhin who was surprisingly honorable, despite his fearsome powers.

Just like his brother.

No, Mael was right. This definitely wasn’t the Serakhine.