Weaving Words

eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. Samhain Publishing, Ltd. 577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520 Macon GA 31201 Weaving Words Copyright © 2008 by Kim Knox ISBN: 1-60504-190-4 Edited by Laurie Rauch Cover by Anne Cain All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: September 2008 www.samhainpublishing.com

Weaving Words Kim Knox

Dedication

To Kell and Jess. Thanks!

Chapter One

The corpse’s heart juddered and then began to pump fresh, slow blood through its decaying veins. “Not decaying any more,” Kaede murmured. “What was that, witch?” Kaede ignored his lord’s question. His eyes stayed with the body on the altar, watching as the blood flushed the exposed skin not covered by its simple white funeral shift. “Nothing, lord.” His fingers dipped into the liquid gold, sweeping intricate symbols over her face and neck. The symbols writhed and Kaede snatched his fingers away. He winced. These were the final rushes of power. She was almost there, almost returned to bright life. Almost. He risked a look to the arched entrance of the ancient cavern. Light edged over the sky in a soft pale grey. It was only dawn. That knowledge had tiredness eating into his bones. Had he only been bonded to her for a few hours? It felt like forever. For the hours of darkness, he had stood over the Lord Tarou’s dead wife and worked his skill. A skill he shouldn’t have, and certainly not one his lord should know about. The shadows cast by the twisting patterns covering the woman’s skin danced over the cavern wall. Kaede kept his gaze fixed on his gold-smeared fingers. Tarou knew what he was and that scared him more than bringing a dead woman back to life. How had his lord known? Kaede’s jaw tightened. He knew his mother had to have talked in her final hours. Tarou had presided over her interrogation, obviously wrung secrets from her. The old soured anger swelled again, tasting bitter on his tongue, but he cut out those thoughts. They had no place in his head. He had a job to do. He forced his gaze back to the woman’s face—her features calm and delicate even as she fought her way back to life. He hoped the Lord Tarou knew what he was doing. His wife couldn’t be that vital to him. The rumours ran that she was only a bartered woman from a wealthy Northern family. She had no connections, no special talents. To risk a resurrection was insane. Kaede said a silent prayer for his own soul. Her lips parted. Dry. Cracked. With a cry, her spine arched away from the cold slab of the altar, her

limbs twisting. Kaede grabbed at her arms, and held her down as her soul clawed its way back into her body. The witch willed all of his strength into keeping her still. Her soul had to settle. That fact the scrolls had stressed, stressed in blood and bone. “Witch, what is happening?” Kaede gritted his teeth. “She is almost back with us, lord.” She shrieked, the cry piercing Kaede’s heart. That hadn’t been in the scrolls. A soul was supposed to crave the touch of its body. But he couldn’t panic. Not now. She fell limp to the stone in a sudden rush. Kaede fell forward, pushing hard against her arms. She groaned. He released his tight grip and took support from the raised lip of the stone dais. Her breathing was slow, even and there was a slight, living flush to her cheeks. The Lady Annaliese was the most beautiful woman in the king’s court. Kaede’s eyes flicked to the hovering lord. He stood taut, grim, his stark face intent in the candlelight. Tarou wanted more than just his pretty wife. It was there in his narrowed, black gaze, the whitened fingers that gripped the dagger at his hip. Kaede stared back at Annaliese, watched as her eyelashes struggled to release the oil clogging them. He’d assumed that she was just the vacuous smile gracing Lord Tarou’s arm. He’d seen nothing special in her. Nothing at all. Kaede rubbed gently at the muck and oil the ceremony required, erasing it from her skin in the reverse of how he had drawn it. With a final Word, the ash circle protecting them both swirled into the air and vanished. Her eyes flickered open. They were a dark blue—evidence of her Northern Clan. There was no focus, just wild fear. Kaede blinked. He had never seen that before, none of the lords’ wives showed any emotion other than perfect serenity and happiness. “Lady?” Kaede whispered, bending to catch sound from her parched mouth. His hand gripped the dais, helping to support his exhausted body. Her lips moved and there was a rush of nonsensical syllables. She searched his face for understanding and her panic grew. Pulling in his control, Kaede pressed his thumb into her forehead and forced out tired Words, grimacing at the pull of them in his flesh. He murmured a silent prayer, needing his final spell to work. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe— “What is this place? Who are you? Why…” She reached up to tug at his thin, silver robe. Kaede lurched over her as she caught him by surprise. He stared at her as her voice faded away. A knot tightened in his stomach. What had he done? He’d failed. That failure would see her dead again. And him right along with her. “Is she well, witch?” Tarou demanded, pushing forward to stand beside his silent wife. Annaliese simply stared at her moving fingers, examined her palm, ignoring her husband. “Yes, lord.” Kaede pushed back the hood of his robe and held the woman’s staring eyes. “The resurrection was successful.” The lie soured his mouth. Tarou’s dark gaze narrowed and the telltale muscle jumped in his jaw. The one his household had come to fear. Kaede’s heart tightened and he willed his expression calm. His mother had drilled him daily in

the art of his blank mask from when he was a small boy. It had saved him more than once. “You don’t sound confident, witch Kaede.” “Lord, your wife is alive and whole.” Tarou’s gaze bore into him and Kaede fixed his face in stone, controlled his breathing. “Your position in my household depends on this, witch. I want you to prove that you are as fine as your mother.” His stern mouth quirked upwards. “Before she failed me, of course.” Kaede pushed down the dangerous surge of emotion. He could not physically harm Lord Tarou, even though the man had his mother put to death. Ancient Words, spoken almost a thousand years before, would tear him apart. Tarou was the lord and master of his household, with the ultimate right of life or death over everyone bound to him. “Yes, lord,” he murmured, bowing his head. “I work tirelessly in service to you. The Lady Annaliese has returned to us.” Kaede stared at her as she lay on the dais. For a moment, he thought he caught something in her eyes, a flash of sharp and wary intelligence. It had to be a false flicker of candlelight as she turned a soft, vacant look back to her husband. Kaede wanted to wipe the sweat from his forehead, from his neck, but he had to remain calm. Tarou snapped his fingers at a terrified girl, who jumped forward. “Dress your lady.” The mute girl nodded and offered her assistance to the Lady Annaliese. She gripped the young girl’s hand and, in a surprisingly fluid movement, the lady dropped to the floor. Annaliese straightened and squeezed the girl’s hand. She rubbed at her mouth, her throat, and flicked a glance to Kaede, where her gaze stayed. He felt the look to his toes and shifted uneasily. Tarou’s wife had never looked at him before, never really looked at him. A witch was beneath her. His heart punched his chest. He was the first to look away, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I should—” Kaede shuffled backwards, needing to get away, to stand in the fresh air and gain a scrap of calm. “Stay with her, witch.” Tarou stopped at the entrance to the cavern, a dark silhouette in the grey light. He took a sheaf of paper from his hovering aide, turning it away from the darkness of the cave to read it. He didn’t look up as he said, “If she’s fragile you must work to keep her alive. I have to make ready for the hunt and then the banquet.” “Yes, lord.” Kaede stopped shuffling. Tarou stood with his guards at the cave mouth, leaving him alone with Annaliese and her maid. Kaede stared out of the cavern. He needed to ignore the two women standing behind him as the maid painted her lady’s face and curled her hair in gold. Tarou trusted him with his wife. He scrubbed at his damp neck. The truth was his lord didn’t see him as a threat. Any inappropriateness would see Kaede torn apart by the Sang family’s ancient blood oath. The lake stretched out beyond the cave, washing in cold air, heavy with the scent of mud and willow. The empty grey sky reflected in the waters below. Mist clung to the banks, twisting in the morning winds and there was only the sound of the slowly rippling water and the rasp of Tarou’s deep voice. The guards stood facing the lake, their spines straight, hands on sword hilts.

Dread was a sour knot in Kaede’s gut. This was insane. What the hell was he going to do? “Witch?” “Lady?” He turned without thought…and stared. Stupid courtesy. He couldn’t utter another word. Annaliese stood before him completely naked, candlelight glowing in flickering gold over her pale curves. Her dark hair curled in tantalising twists over her breasts. Heat surged through his body and straight for his penis. Panic hit him and his gaze leapt up to her face, his heart pounding. What was he doing? Tarou would carve holes in him for seeing his wife naked. He caught the slight curl of a smile on her painted mouth and her blue eyes sparked bright. Kaede swallowed, his throat tight, and willed down his unexpected reaction. It didn’t happen to a witch. Not like this. That was the real reason his lord trusted him with his wife. A witch reacted to only one woman, the woman destined to be his mate, and the Lady Annaliese Gaute wasn’t her. Couldn’t be. “How…how can I help you, lady?” He cursed the stumbled words. “Don’t you like what you see?” Her words were no more than a soft whisper. Annaliese stared down at her body as the maid knelt beside her. Annaliese lifted her leg, her thigh straight, and pointed her toes. The young girl pushed on the white silk sock. The lady’s balance was perfect. “So smooth,” she ran a hand over her waist, her hip, “so soft. Yet with a truly surprising strength, don’t you think?” “Was that your question, lady?” His voice was still no more than a croak. The white silk rolled over the curve of her calf… With a kick to his chest, he realised what else he was looking at. Heat scorched his face and he stumbled back, but he couldn’t turn away, not now. Shit. Stupid, stupid courtesy. “Yes, I believe you are all of those things.” He started to turn away as the maid tied the ribbons mid-thigh. Annaliese changed legs. “I should add supple, too.” Kaede silently cursed her. She was doing it deliberately. “Yes.” He grated out the word in an urgent whisper. “All in all, a very interesting new body.” Kaede stared at her and closed the distance between them. The scent of her perfumed skin hit him and he held down a groan. Had he brought back a mad woman? He willed himself to look back at Tarou and found him poking a hard finger into the chest of his cowering aide. His panic dulled, until he remembered the hovering servant girl. “Lady…” His gaze shot to the young maid unfolding undergarments from a leather box, her back to them both. “I don’t think—” “We’re safe with her.” Annaliese had followed his gaze. “The poor girl can neither speak nor hear.” Her mouth twisted and a hardness settled in her gaze. “The perfect servant.” “How could you know that? You’re not…” He waved his hand at her, still unable to admit the dangerous truth. He stepped back and schooled his expression as the maid returned. With a small smile, she held up a thin white tunic. Annaliese put out her arms and slid it over her head. The maid fastened the tunic ribbons under her breasts and returned to the box for more clothes. “She watches my mouth. So…” She smoothed the rumpled silk of the tunic, pushing it down so that it safely fell beyond the top of her thigh. Kaede found himself able to breathe again. “What did you do to me,

witch?” “You…the Lady Annaliese…was dead. I resurrected her.” He winced. “You.” “Resurrected.” She stepped into the offered loose trews. The maid took the wide cord and cinched it around her waist. Annaliese hissed. “Interesting.” She watched the maid return to the leather clothes box as she smoothed down the tunic again. “The last thing I remember is running up stone stairs.” Her gaze turned inwards and Kaede wished he could see into her thoughts. “A temple tower. And it was cold, icy cold. Snow gusted in through the windows.” “Snow?” The word was strangled. He flicked a glance back to his lord. Tarou towered over the small, cowering man. Kaede wanted to feel pity, but at that moment, he could only be glad it wasn’t him. “You’re from the far north?” But she couldn’t answer. Her maid had turned back to them, holding up a gold-embroidered scarlet robe. Obediently, Annaliese slipped her arms in and watched the young girl settle the fabric with skill over her shoulders. She wrapped the robe around Annaliese’s body and held it in place. Pulling a thin belt from over her shoulder, she secured the robe. Kaede held back his impatience. They must appear normal in front of the entire household. With the final wide, blood-red belt tied around her waist, Annaliese stepped into her delicate black slippers. The woman before him was the one Kaede had seen gliding around the third ring of the palace. Beautiful, stately with the sparkle of gold dust on her cheeks. However, there was another look in her eyes, a sharp intelligence that had never sat there before. The maid packed up her bag and looked to her mistress for orders. Annaliese waved her hand towards the cavern’s entrance. “Go to my rooms, please.” The young girl glanced at Kaede, fear and confusion in her dark eyes, before she bowed and scurried away through the open iron door leading up to the Lodge House. He watched her leave, waiting before he turned back to Annaliese. Kaede moved close again. They only had a short time now before Tarou would want to return to the lodge. “What is your real name?” Annaliese dug her hand into her side, twisting against the tight pull of the final belt. “How did she wear this bloody thing?” Kaede pinched at the bridge of his nose. Hard. “Damn it, lady, if this mistake is found out, both of us are dead.” “Yes, I thought that was probable.” She straightened and pushed her hair from her eyes, grimacing as the ornate curls of thin gold caught on her fingers. “I only know that my name is Vara. Nothing else.” She gave him a short smile. “I remember a tower, snow,” she stared down at her shimmering robe, “and a leather cuirass.” Vara turned over her hand, stretching her palm. Her brow furrowed. “I should have sword calluses.” “You’re a soldier.” He waved at her, at her clothes, her hair. “Are you…erm…female?” Vara gave a soft laugh. “Are you worried, witch Kaede?” Her gaze slid down to his breeches and he stopped his hands moving to cover himself. The soft scent of her chamomile perfume wrapped around him. His penis twitched and he held down a curse. “I can’t pretend that I didn’t notice your reaction to this body.

Were you and she…?” Kaede shook his head and tried not to notice the glitter of gold edging her cheek, the way it sparkled in her wicked eyes. “No.” He straightened. His lack of control made no sense. Annaliese Gaute had married his lord five years before and she had never once affected him. “And this is inappropriate.” “Really?” Her warm breath brushed his neck, her tongue-tip tracing along the underside of his jaw. He hissed and stumbled back from her. She grinned. “I’d call that inappropriate.” They were dead. Tarou would take one look at his smirking wife, demand a sword from his guard and slice her head off himself. His lord would save the Seven Words for him. “You were brought back for a reason.” Kaede forced his mind to focus and push from his thoughts the need to have this new Annaliese hard up against the cavern wall, showing her how inappropriate he could be. Even with Tarou standing only yards away. “And I don’t know what that is. I have my books, I’ll try to find out more about what…you…were trying to do. Why he’s risking resurrection.” “Yes, he,” she nodded towards the lake, “doesn’t seem the doting husband.” Kaede couldn’t look back, afraid of what she would do if he turned his back on her. “He’s not.” “We have a problem.” She hitched her belt around her waist and smoothed back her robe. “I’m ready to go, Kaede. It’ll look suspicious if we delay too long.” He blinked. She was being sensible now? “Witch, just call me witch,” he muttered. “Witch…” The drawled word flushed his face and he held down the surge of fear. Vara’s red mouth twitched upward and the wicked spark returned to her gaze. She stood back from him and her chin lifted. “Aren’t you going to ask me if I’m a woman again?” Kaede bit back a curse. They weren’t going to live to see the night.

Chapter Two

“Are you feeling well?” Tarou lifted his leather-clad arm and eyes darker than thick shadow pierced her. Vara nodded, her face frozen, and slid her hand over the cold leather. “Quite well, lord.”

“Witch, light our way.” Kaede closed his eyes. He spoke a single word and pain flickered across his face. The air stank with the acrid burn of smoke. Sparks flickered and, with a sharp crack, a streak of white flame surged before them. Kaede had greyed and his shoulders sagged. Magic, he’d performed magic right in front of her. Her hand tightened into a fist and, for a moment, the loss of her sword hollowed her stomach. She wanted its comforting weight. Her sword brought with it the knowledge that when she held it she had a purpose. She willed down the hot surge of panic tearing up through her chest. She had more control than this. She was a captain in the— Blackness. She met a wall of blackness where she should be. She cursed and forced herself to focus. Who she’d been wasn’t vital, staying alert and aware was. Kaede’s flame cast bitter white light over the iron doors and the twist of the stone steps leading upwards. Two guards stood before them, Kaede, Tarou’s aide and two more guards followed behind them. Tarou’s slow, measured pace had her unnerved. She risked a glance at him. Light edged his sculpted profile. He had a soldier’s face, hard, implacable. A thin scar, pale and old, ran from his ear and along his jaw. “Are you ready for tonight?” The words were a whisper and his mouth barely moved. His dark gaze spiked her. “After yesterday’s failure.” “I believe I know where I went wrong, lord.” It was the best answer she could give. What had his wife promised him? Vara broke away from his penetrating stare and made the pretence of lifting her robe to take the next slippery step. Whatever it was, it had killed her. And that woman had known what she was doing. “Good.” A harsh smile lifted his mouth. “I don’t think my witch can bring you back a second time.” He laughed and the sound echoed over the hand-carved walls. “He’s not strong enough, are you, Kaede? I’d have to hunt for a new witch.” “Yes, lord.” Kaede’s quiet, placid voice irked her. He had power, could burn Tarou with the fire he called up with a single word. A guard thumping his fist against another iron door cut into her thoughts. There was an exchange of passwords and then a key scraped and turned in the lock. The hinges grated and squealed as the door swung back. The sudden sharp tang of copper in the air sliced through the damp smell of mould and old stone. She knew that smell. It stabbed at her memory as an odour she’d known all of her life. It was the scent of blood. “After you, Annaliese,” Tarou said. She walked into a curved chamber. The thick odour of dried blood stuck in her throat. A large oak table took up most of the small room and cabinets lined the walls, holding glass jars, pots, copper pans and books. She followed the guards, aware that Tarou was behind her, his hand at her spine. Her steps were as measured as his, slow, calm. Vara winced as she passed too close to another thick, iron door, one of three in the room. The sweet stench seeped through the crack between the solid door and the stone flags. Something dead and rotten lay behind there.

“I will stay in my laboratory, if I may, lord.” Kaede dropped his bag onto the oak table. His hand gripped its edge, the knuckles white. The man was exhausted. “It has been a long night.” Tarou’s hard jaw twisted. “For us all, witch. Stay with my wife. Service to me comes before rest.” Kaede nodded and straightened. He picked up his bag again. “Yes, lord.” Vara stopped herself from cursing. This was Kaede’s room and he was her best chance of finding out what task Tarou had set his wife. She walked on through the door that a guard opened for her. The smell of wet stone was a relief after the sickening air of Kaede’s laboratory. She waited politely for Tarou. More guards surrounded them; Tarou offered his arm and their little procession moved forward. They followed the twist of more stone stairwells up. The constriction of the heavy belt made breathing difficult. She bit at her lip and grimaced. The grease the maid had smeared over her mouth tasted of bacon fat. She stopped herself from spitting onto the smooth-flagged floor. That wasn’t her anymore, which she could hardly forget as Tarou’s dark, cold eyes watched her struggle up the steps. The stairs ended in another solid door, that opening into a small room with yet more doors. The place was a warren. Light cut through the space from a high window, splashing over the faded rug and old wood panelling. Tarou pulled a key out from under his tunic and pushed the narrow door. Beyond was a private dining parlour. He stopped and stared at her. “You will go to your chamber and prepare. Witch,” that dark stare shifted to Kaede and she breathed a little easier, “you will escort her there. Then come to my rooms.” Kaede nodded. “Yes, lord.” Tarou, his aide and his guards streamed out of the door. Vara flopped against the panelling. The gold in her hair clinked against the cold wood. She tugged at the belt and let her lungs expand. Damn it, the thing hurt. “Lady, shall we go?” “Why haven’t you burned him, Kaede? Just,” she snapped her fingers, “and he would be a blackened husk.” Kaede stood by the door, his eyes fixed in the next room. “I’m owned by the House of Sang.” His words were little more than a mutter. “With Seven Words he can kill me.” Vara let out a slow breath. This made no sense. “This is insane. Magic is a myth, tales that belong with dragons and two-headed monsters.” His laugh was bitter. “I wish, lady. For a thousand years my family has served.” “Bringing back the dead?” “No, lady.” Kaede’s mouth twisted and his dark eyes lifted to hers. His beauty hit her again. Smooth, clean features untouched by disease and scars and a strength to him she could almost taste. Yes, she was locked in an irrational lust. “No one has that power, and to even suggest it means the death of the witch and the House that owns him.” She blinked. “All right.” The words were a drawl. “So what else do you do or don’t do?” She gripped his arm, her long fingers pressing tight into the warm linen of his tunic. “I have to have some idea of what your world, her world, is like, Kaede.” He stared straight ahead. “You have never spoken to me.” She laughed. “Then I was blind.”

His mouth thinned. “Should we have that talk about inappropriateness again?” Vara ignored him. “How did I die?” Kaede winced. He did that a lot, she noticed. “I don’t know. Lord Tarou’s guard brought me to your chamber. You were on the bed, dressed, and with no obvious injuries.” She couldn’t help it; she baited him. “And you did a thorough examination of my body?” A dark flush burned against his brown skin and the muscles bunched in his jaw. What was he fighting? Their attraction? She still had the memory of him on her tongue, spice and sweat and something that rushed a shiver to her toes. “We must leave.” He led the way out into the dining parlour, through the hall and towards the central staircase. Vara tried not to gawk. Servants scurried from room to room, carrying golden candlesticks, bolts of silk fabric, and two men hung an ornate tapestry against the long wall of the hall. Vara squeezed Kaede’s arm. She leaned in close, her lips almost brushing his ear. He flinched and she bit back a smile. “What’s going on?” “Lord Tarou is holding a banquet tonight.” His lips barely moved. “He is an influential man.” A banquet? They didn’t have to go any farther, her lack of courtly manners would expose her completely. Vara climbed the last of the steps to the long gallery. Light sliced through the thick shadow and spilled over the paint-thick portraits. Tarou glared down at her and she held down a shudder. The man was terrifying even in paint. Kaede walked her down the empty corridor, her leather slippers silent on the smooth stone. They passed a long line of closed wooden doors. Kaede finally stopped at double doors. He opened them onto a long sitting room. Sunlight streamed in through glass doors opening onto a small garden. Kaede closed the doors with a soft thud and slid the bolts into the wall and floor. She moved through the other rooms and found a bedroom with the maid’s cot at the foot of the large bed. There was no maid, for which Vara was grateful. Next to the bedroom was a windowless box crammed with elaborate robes, shoes, underclothes. Vara pinched her nose at the cloying scent of lavender and closed the door again. “We’re alone,” she said, returning to the sitting room. Kaede stood at the open doorway, staring out into the small rectangular garden. Flowers and herbs grew in wild, thick tumbles, climbers clinging to the sharp rock face stretching up behind the lodge. The air was growing sluggishly warm. Slow-lapping water in the pond fell into a rhythm with chirruping and whirring creatures deep in the undergrowth. Every lungful of air seemed alien. “Kaede?” He blinked and pulled his attention back. “Sorry. I don’t get to see the sun that often.” Vara thought of this laboratory buried beneath where they stood, heavy with the stench of death. “What is your magic, Kaede?” “To own a witch, your House must gain permission from the king. You must be powerful. Because owning a witch means you must have the power, the permission to secure our ingredients.” He paused and, for a moment, closed his eyes. “We render and grind down the dead so that the Words can consume them.” Vara stepped back from him and swallowed bile. “That’s…”

His dark gaze slid to her and there was only weariness there. “Disgusting? Foul? I don’t have the luxury of walking away from my profession.” She stepped into the garden and breathed in the heady scent from the profusion of flowers. The space was private, tranquil. She imagined the old Annaliese spent as much time as she could in the peaceful space. Breathing in the warming air, she leant against the outer wall and tried to stay calm as she asked, “What are we going to do?” Kaede ran a hand through his dark hair and stared up at the sheer face of rock. “I don’t know. I need to get to my books. I need to understand what she was trying to do.” The blue sky faded to white and an icy wind and flurries of snow cut through the slow heat. She was running, running for her life. Howls echoed over the temple walls, followed by harsh laughter. “Run, Captain. The brethren are dead. And you,” from the burst of snow, a long curved blade slashed down, “you are no longer needed.” Vara released a slow, hot breath and the agony in her chest faded. “Well, you can’t reverse it.” She laughed and heard the strain in her voice. “I’m…my body…is dead.” Her hand pressed hard against her breastbone and the vague shadow of pain burned beneath her fist. “That temple I was in. Someone hacked a knife into my chest up to the hilt.” Kaede cursed. “I don’t understand any of this.” She willed her hand away from her chest and pushed herself away from the wall. “You need to see Tarou. Perhaps he will let something slip.” Kaede’s laugh was bitter. “The Lord Tarou?” He straightened and smoothed down the rumpled front of his linen tunic. “You still have a lot to learn, lady. A lot to learn.” She watched him leave, followed him and slid the bolts back after he was gone. “Yes, witch, and no time in which to do it.”

Chapter Three

The guards watched him with cold, wary eyes. Kaede stopped before the doors to his lord’s rooms, standing beyond the lengths of their still sheathed swords. Both men had seen him resurrect the Lady Annaliese. Weaving on that scale tended to make soldiers very nervous. “I must attend the Lord Tarou.” The younger guard felt behind him and pushed at the door. His partner kept his hand hard on the hilt of his sword. “We’re watching you, witch,” he growled. Kaede bit down a sour smile. They had no idea how powerless he was. His palms started to sweat. He had to believe that Tarou hadn’t guessed the resurrection was a failure. He stepped toward the open door and the guards flinched. The older one slithered his sword halfway out of its leather scabbard. The blade gleamed. Kaede ignored him and entered the shadow-thick room beyond. The guard tugged the door shut behind him. Tarou looked up from the papers littering his broad desk and his gaze narrowed on Kaede. The light from the fat wax candle sparked gold in his eyes, cast deep shadows over his lean face. He dropped his quill back into the ink well and sat back in his chair. The old leather creaked. “What is wrong with my wife, Kaede? Why is she not whole?” “Lord?” Tarou’s features shifted to stone. Kaede’s heart started to pound. Wrong thing to say. He braced his body for pain. “Do not insult me, witch.” Tarou rose from his chair. He spoke the First Word and agony lanced through Kaede’s feet and calves. He fell to his knees with a cry of pain. “The Lady Annaliese is not herself.” “Give her time, lord.” Kaede struggled up, the echo of pain still caught in his body. “She died. Her soul has to settle, to remember who it was again.” “That is not good enough. A resurrection ceremony, when it’s a success, is obvious.” Kaede prayed the surprise didn’t show on his face. If Tarou spoke the Second Word out loud so soon after the First, Kaede would be out cold. How did he know anything about the ceremony? Kaede’s gut clenched. Had his wife dabbled? Had she been trying to perform a spell and the Words turned on her? She was insane. A witch was born. Only a witch could control the spells, as Words had a ferocious power all of their own. The Lady Annaliese had discovered that the hard way. “This is the first time I have performed this rite, lord. I followed it to the letter. The Lady Annaliese has been returned to you. She remembers you, this lodge…” Tarou pushed back his chair, the iron-shod legs scraping over the stone. Kaede held his breath, but his lord strode to the window. He stood before the narrow slit in the stone. “Push some sense back into her brain.” Stark sunlight etched his sharp features with gold. “Something about your weaving rattled her brain.” Cold eyes turned to Kaede. “Your position in my household depends on this, witch. I want you to prove that you’re as fine as your mother.” His jaw tightened. “Or her fate will also be yours.” A muscle jumped in Kaede’s cheek. He pushed down dangerous emotions. He had to remind himself that Tarou was the lord and master of his household, with the ultimate right of life or death over everyone bound to him. It didn’t help. Tarou had lost face when another lord’s witch had out-spelled Kaede’s mother.

He had spoken the Seven Words to her and she had burned to ash. Kaede could never forget that. “Yes, lord.” “She must be ready for the banquet tonight. If she is not the woman I know,” his mouth quirked upwards, “then you and she are dead.” “Perhaps the manner of her death is troubling her, lord.” Tarou’s mouth flattened and he turned to face Kaede. His hand settled on the dagger fixed to his belt. Fingers tapped the hilt in a slow rhythm. “What do you know of it, witch?” Kaede’s gut cramped, he was risking more Words, but if he could gain any clue from Tarou, he could keep them both alive. Time for him to lie. “There were signs on her body, signs of trauma.” He stepped back and fixed his gaze on Tarou’s ornate desk, thick with papers. The Second Word burned silently on Tarou’s lips, the pain of it slicing through Kaede’s thigh. “I can’t ask her, I know it’s none of my business. It may be that which has her rattled.” He paused, fighting the stabbing pain burning deep in his legs. “You…you, of course, have the right to do as you see fit…” Tarou laughed and the Second Word died. Kaede fought to stay upright. “You think I killed her?” “I don’t think anything, lord.” “Just as you should. No, Kaede,” his boots struck against the smooth flags as he moved toward him, “I wouldn’t kill my wife needlessly. The king covets her, has since I brought her down from the north. I’ve had the pleasure of dangling her before him for years.” He stopped before Kaede. “I want my wife back. She’s useless to me without her full senses.” Kaede stared at the golden torc around Tarou’s neck, a symbol of his power. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Annaliese hadn’t been performing a weaving. Perhaps it was whoever inhabited her body now. Kaede wanted to sit in a quiet corner and think. His head swirled from lack of sleep and the exhaustion of calling on his powers. “I will do all I can, lord.” Tarou snorted. “I’ll know if the woman who enters the hall tonight is my wife. If you fail, Kaede, I’ll pour the Seven Words into you right there.” “I won’t fail you, lord.” Tarou swore under his breath and a muscle jumped in his cheek as he turned away. “Get out.” “Yes, lord.” Kaede bowed low and backed away. He felt behind him for the door knob, twisted it and pulled the door open. The slither of swords greeted him. He straightened and twitched a smile at the two wary guards. “Goodbye.” “Don’t get funny with us, witch,” the elder of the two growled. “Get back to your stinking hole.” Kaede ignored them. He had all he needed in his bag. He turned and headed for the Lady Annaliese’s chamber. He had to be certain it wasn’t the new owner of Annaliese’s body who was causing all of his problems. He regripped his bag’s leather handle and a grimace pulled at his mouth. He had a spell to perform.

The need to do something had Vara pacing her sitting room. Yet, she was trapped. Anything she tried could reveal that she wasn’t the true Annaliese. A slip of the tongue, not knowing someone’s name or

where something was would be construed as a lapse. But she couldn’t risk the chance that others would report her odd behaviour to Tarou. He was already suspicious of her. “Wouldn’t you be?” She tugged at the twists of gold pulling at her scalp. “After all, I…she…was dead.” Repeated knocks on the door made her start. Vara blew out a calming breath. It was probably her maid. She hoped. She pushed down the thought that Tarou would visit his wife. No. The maid. That elusive girl still hadn’t turned up. She yanked the door bolts free from the frame and the floor. Vara, despite everything, was getting hungry. She opened the door to Kaede and her stomach growled in protest. “Lady.” He walked into her room without invitation, shut and bolted the door. It was a relief to see him. “How do I get breakfast, Kaede?” He dropped his leather bag on a small, low table. Surprised, he turned to her. “You’re concerned about food ?” “Being brought back from the dead gives you such an appetite.” Her stomach growled again and she rubbed at it through the tough tightness of the belt. “I don’t remember when I last ate.” Kaede sighed. “We don’t have time for this.” “So I die of hunger?” “Lady Annaliese…” She glared at him. “That is not who I am.” “Tarou is nervous.” Vara blinked. That threw her. “What?” She tried to think his words though again, and failed. “What?” “He has something planned. Something his wife, which you are, was going to do for him.” He unbuckled the straps holding his bag shut. “I think it might have to do with pleasing the king.” Kaede had succeeded in making her forget about her hunger. “Pleasing as in…?” “Tarou’s been using her as bait for years.” “Wonderful.” Vara sank onto a silk-covered couch, wincing as the belt dug under her breasts. “Now I get to be a king’s toy.” “I don’t think she’s had sex with him.” Vara snorted. “Lucky her. So it’s my treat.” She bit at her lip and the sour taste of bacon fat made her head feel light. “Kaede, I do need food.” She looked about the cold room with its heavy tapestries and expensive, ornate furniture and tried to focus. “The maid seems to have run away.” Her smile was crooked. “Not that I can blame her.” Kaede shut his bag again and let out a slow sigh. “I will get you breakfast.” He pulled his tunic straight. “Don’t touch that bag.” His dark eyes burned with frustration and Vara couldn’t help herself. “Do you know how pretty you are when you’re angry?” The sudden flush under his skin made her smile grow. “Really.” “Very funny. I’m trying to keep us alive and you? You flirt.” “There’s not much else for me to do.” Kaede stopped at the door. “Think about who you really are. Concentrate. I have to know if Annaliese

created this problem, or if you did.” “Me?” “Think about it.” And he was gone. Vara pushed herself off the couch and secured the door. He was crazy. This situation had nothing to do with her. She rotated her neck, wanting to ease the pull of tension making her spine ache. “Concentrate,” she murmured. The memory of her death rose up and her chest tightened. She willed herself to breathe. She had to face her past. Warm air drew her outside to the little garden. Golden light splashed over the wall, the morning sun climbing higher in the heat-hazed sky. The scent of the flowers and the heavy drone of insects filled her senses. There was a little chair set to one side, almost lost to the cool shadows. Vara sat and closed her eyes. “Concentrate,” she said again. The rich sent of jasmine and chamomile wove through her. Rhythmic buzzing and somewhere the gentle drip, drip, drip of water slowed her pulse, slowed…and then the warm world around her faded. She tasted the cold, dry air, heavy with snow. Warm leather and fur protected her as she patrolled the towers. A smile pulled at her mouth. The pelts she wore always stank and the priests complained endlessly. “Captain Haradt, I want a word with you.” She didn’t groan because that would be unprofessional. Being unprofessional in front of the priests tended to get her privy duty and she’d already had that twice in a month. Maybe she was learning…? “How can I help you, Holy One?” The small man, bald, wizened, and huddled in thick wolf fur, glared up at her. His bright blue eyes were sharp, hard. “Who ordered you to patrol here?” “My section commander, Holy One.” “When was this order given?” She stopped herself from saying it’d been a standing order for the Third Captain of the Towers since records began. Because that of course would be unprofessional. Even if this was the Goddess Maeva’s newest temple, halfway up a mountain they had no right to be on, the rules stayed the same.

“This morning,” she said and tried hard to keep the twist of sarcasm from her face. Priests and warriors never mixed well, but the emperor had put them together in the temple, so there they stayed. She added, “Holy One,” for good measure. “Well, you shouldn’t be here. I expressly stated that these towers were beyond the purview of the warriors. This is a holy place, sacred. You, with your stink and blood-soaked swords, are not allowed…” His words rolled over her. She watched her breath curl in the freezing air and barely saw the little man whose face was gradually turning scarlet under his rant. The back of her neck prickled and her hand jumped to her sword. “What are you doing? How dare—”

“Shut up. Now.” She pushed the little priest back along the narrow tunnel connecting the second and third sanctuary towers. The air tasted wrong, somehow sour. Her first command was to protect the priests. She had to remind herself of that as the struggling priest kicked her in the shin. “Something is wrong. Can’t you taste it?” “Taste it? What are you…” Howling shook the air. She took a firm hold of his robe and dragged him after her. Snow flurried through the arrow loops, followed by a thickening mist that swirled around them. Something else twisted there, something tangible. “The worshippers of Maeva must die.” A sudden swipe of razored claws from the mist raked the priest open from throat to belly, splattering her with hot blood. His screams tore through her. She staggered back into a solid body and cried out as claws dug into her neck. “All of you must die.”

Chapter Four

Rapid knocks on the door jolted her. Vara’s hand shot to her mouth. Gulping down air, she tried to calm herself. Warm breezes washed over her damp skin and she breathed in the rich, easing odour of chamomile. What the hell had been in that temple? What had grabbed her? More knocks had her pushing herself up and moving awkwardly to the door. Her legs were shaky. She pulled back the bolt and opened the door. Kaede stood holding a tray. She let out a slow sigh, turned back from him and found a couch. It was a relief to sit. “Lady?” He dumped the tray and sat beside her. His hand hovered over hers before he took it. Warm fingers rubbed over her skin. “Has something happened?” She laughed, a bitter sound even to her own ears. “You asked me to concentrate. I did.” He blinked and pulled his hands away. Securing the door, he stared at her. “And what did you learn?”

“My full name is Captain Vara Haradt.” Kaede poured clear tea into two small, smooth cups and handed one to her. She sipped it and didn’t look at him. Her panic was embarrassing. She was a high-ranking solider. Vara rubbed at her left shoulder, expecting a deep, old scar. Yes, a soldier wounded in battle, highly decorated and she was falling to pieces over a memory. “I was guarding the sanctuary towers of Maeva when we were attacked. Something with claws. Something that wanted us all dead.” Her hand shook and she put the cup down. “I need to know more, lady.” “What? How I had to spit out the priest’s blood? How he screamed?” She blew out a hot breath. “I failed in my duty. I should be dead. I deserve it.” “And you just happened to end up in the body of a lord’s dead wife thousands of miles away?” He sat next to her again and inhaled the steam from his tea. “I have to know…Captain.” “I can’t guarantee—” “I can.” Vara followed his gaze to his leather bag still sitting on the low table. “More of your spells.” “Tarou said he’ll kill both of us if you’re not you when we enter the banquet hall.” Her stomach growled again. Vara picked up a steaming bowl of porridge. She dipped a wide spoon into it. Her first taste proved it was not porridge, but it was bland and filling. Her stomach was happy. Vara was aware of Kaede watching her. She swallowed the last mouthful. “I know.” She stabbed a fork into grilled fish, broke off a piece, tasted it and shuddered. Too sharp. “I know Tarou will kill us both, but can I have a little time to get used to the idea of magic?” “The banquet will start at sunset and hours before that you must be made ready. We have to move forward now.” Vara emptied a bowl of dried fruit, sipped at her cooled tea and sat straight. She was a warrior, felt it in her bones. She would not disgrace those who had fallen at the temple with her cowardice. “What do I have to do?” Kaede flashed her a smile and unexpected heat surged up her chest. She was trying to be brave, selfless and with a simple smile, he turned all of her thoughts to lust. “Can we do a deal?” He looked up from sorting through his bag, his silver robe already folded over his arm. “Deal?” “When this is over I want you and me in that bed through there.” Kaede blinked and his skin flushed. He swallowed, his gaze fixed on the open doorway to her bedroom. “Lady…” “I’m not her, Kaede.” He broke off his stare. His jaw tightened and he turned back to his bag. “The answer is no.” The simple, quiet words stabbed through Vara. She should accept his refusal, but a word slipped out. “Why?” He cradled the crown of a skull in the palm of his hand, a finger tracing the smoothed edges. “I’m a witch.” “What, and witches don’t have sex?” “Yes, we do. Just not with…” He turned back to his bag, the sentence unfinished.

“Women?” A smile twitched on his mouth. “Oh, I could happily strip you naked right here, right now, Vara.” Dark eyes pinned her and her mouth dried. Raw need burned in him and her body blazed with the corresponding tug. “I could.” He let out a slow breath and lifted out a jar of white powder, putting it on the table. “But I won’t. The problem is I want to.” She struggled to speak. “And that’s a problem?” “Something in you calls to the witch in me. Wants to bind me to you. You have a strength that complements mine and it would ensure the survival of my powers in our children.” Vara choked. “I wasn’t planning that far ahead.” “Neither was I.” He shrugged on the silver robe, pulled the thin hood over his head and fastened the ties at his waist. “I can’t risk it. I won’t put more of my kind into slavery.” Vara stared at her feet, feeling torn. Nice to be rejected for a reason. She looked up. “What do we need to do?” He dropped ingredients into the crown of the skull and twisted his fingers above it. Energy crackled through the air. There was a sharp pop and then a gush of acrid grey smoke. Ash coated the tips of his fingers. He brushed a circle out over the smooth stone and stepped inside. He held a small clay pot of liquid gold. Kaede’s breathing slowed. “I’m going to weave. Please, stand inside the circle.” Vara pushed herself up and stepped over the drawn line. The thick scents of leather, sweat and blood hit her. A rush of heat prickled over her skin and she gasped. “What the hell was that?” “The circle protects us.” “From what?” “From the Words.” “The Words?” Her thoughts were stilted. Kaede hadn’t made the circle big enough. He was too close, her mouth almost level with his. She fixed her eyes on the worn silver of his robe, focusing on the unintelligible runes stitched into the delicate hide. “Some witches don’t wear a robe. They don’t live long.” His warm breath brushed her cheek. “This is almost a thousand years old.” She knew he was smiling. “It’s a family heirloom. “Words.” He let out a slow sigh. “Words focus my energy, give it shape, bend it to my will. But they have a power of their own and can devour the unprepared.” He took her hand and pressed it to his heart. It laboured hard, pounding under her palm. “I’ll paint a pattern on your skin. It’ll bring out your memories and share them with me. I’ll be in your memory, see what you see, feel what you feel. Do you understand, Vara?” She held his gaze. “Yes.” He dipped his fingers into the liquid gold and the air burned with the stink of hot metal. His light touch curved over her forehead, her nose, her cheeks. She flinched, but the liquid metal wasn’t hot as it formed a tangled shape that itched like a cobweb against her skin. It began to pulse, to gleam. Words poured from Kaede, his moving lips a blur. His face reddened and sweat beaded his skin. Vara fought to stay still, to stay calm as the air crackled around her, the whisper of hungry Words pulling at her

senses. Kaede took a pouch from a pocket in his robe, loosened it and tipped out a fine grey-white powder. It didn’t fall. It swept upward toward her. He gripped her wrist, holding her still and the powder surged over her face. Vara cried out. “Blood to bind it. Bone to seal it!” The sitting room, its dark stone walls, couches and tapestries blurred and faded. Cold air swept around her, chilling her skin. The familiar stink of old leather and ancient fur hit her nostrils. And something else. The odour of blood. Somehow she knew it was hers. Memory snapped over her. “The emperor thinks he has power in these mountains.” Claws dug at her throat, just breaking the skin with a prickle of pain. She couldn’t see what held her, but felt the strong body of a man pressed to her back. He stank like her fur. Ahead was only mist. On the floor, the little priest was dead, his eyes staring in horror. Her gut twisted, but she stayed calm. “This is your mountain?” It seemed he wanted to gloat. That was fine by her. It kept her alive and gave her information. “Who are you?” A cold muzzle pressed into her neck and she held down a shudder. “We are the mountain. Your puny goddess has little hope of taming us. Only one holy woman holds us in her sway.” “What do you want?” “Isn’t that obvious?” His slow growl vibrated against her skin, long teeth pressing. “I’m going to eat you.” Vara stamped on his foot and swung her fist into his groin. He staggered back. “Not today.” She whipped out her short sword and drove it into his gut. His howl shook the air. Yanking her weapon free, he fell to his knees and she ran. She was not thinking what he’d looked like, because it was impossible. He was not a wolf. Not at all. She had to raise the alarm. The temple was under attack. The towers stood empty, but the thick splatter of blood streaked the stone walls. Howling echoed through the temple and chilled her blood. Screams echoed around her. Vara grabbed her surging panic and pushed it down. Think. She had to think. The night guard would just be turning into their bunks. Rousing them was her best plan to defend the temple. She burst out of the tower door and charged down the steps. Mist enveloped her, the cold bite of snow freezing her skin. Her heart pounded and still she ran. A shape loomed out of the mist. “Run, Captain. The brethren are dead. And you,” from the burst of snow, a long curved blade slashed down, “you are no longer needed.” Agony tore through her chest and she crashed to her knees. Blood choked her. She scrabbled at the hilt with numbing fingers, her strength draining away. The stench of her attacker overwhelmed her. Dimly, she saw his muzzled face as he licked her jaw with a hot, wet tongue. “You taste sweet.”

Fangs gleamed with saliva. They swallowed her vision. Vara thought she screamed— —and then a burst of brilliant white shrouded her. Pain seared and she was falling. Raw-throated screaming, screaming in unison with someone else... Vara opened her eyes, saw a cavern and a stranger’s face. Kaede’s face.

Chapter Five

Kaede’s eyes shot open. He caught Vara before she wilted and broke the protection of the circle. His trembling finger retraced the spider-thin weaving of gold, drawing it from her skin, erasing the pattern. His body sagged. Lifting the unconscious Vara, Kaede willed himself to leave the ash-drawn circle. He laid her body across the couch and searched her throat for a pulse. He found one, slow and strong. Relieved that she was alive, he fell into a chair set beside the fireplace. He rubbed at his face and willed the pain out of his bones, his flesh. Vara was telling the truth. She was a soldier and had died defending her temple. Kaede pushed at the memories. As she died, someone else was there, someone echoing her screams. Yet, before that, there had been…singing. Yes, for a moment he’d heard the rise and fall of a rapid song in Vara’s voice. He blinked. No, not Vara…Annaliese. He focused. The song was elusive, but he grappled with language every day. He closed his eyes and concentrated, breaking down and reforming the Words. Kaede’s heart stopped. He stared at the unconscious woman on the couch. The sucking in of Vara’s soul had been a deliberate act…by the woman she now inhabited. Kaede rubbed his hands together, finding them clammy. A tremor shook them. It hadn’t been a resurrection. His weaving that morning had been pointless. What Annaliese had done took an incredible amount of power and nerve. She’d swapped souls. And it had worked. So where the hell was the Lady Annaliese Gaute?

Vara arched her spine, air rushing into her body in a raw heave. She rolled onto her side and wretched. “He ate me.” Her hand gripped her mouth and she crushed her eyes shut. She breathed in and out and her whitened fingers eased back from her face. “That bastard started to eat me while I was still alive.” “Yes.” Vara stared at him. “You saw.” He winced and rubbed at his throat. “I felt.” He sank back into the soft padding of the chair. “Annaliese did this. She put you in her body.” Vara sat up. “What? Why? Did she end up back at the temple?” She wiped at her mouth. “She wanted to die?” “No.” Kaede pushed himself onto his feet and paced the floor. He stopped at the end of the circle. With a single Word and a wave of his hand, the ash spiralled up and vanished. He twisted his back against the bite of the Word in his flesh. “If she wanted to die, there are noxious plants in her garden. No, what she did took real power and purpose.” “This makes no sense. Tarou is expecting something from her, but she’s taken herself out of her own body and put me in it.” Vara gave a sour laugh. “And how odd is that to say?” Kaede snorted. “I didn’t suspect a thing about her. She didn’t feel like a witch.” He ran his hands through his hair, his fingers curling tight. What was he missing? “Annaliese Gaute was a witch…but you said there was no magic in your land.” “No. Nothing like…” She waved a hand to where he had drawn the ash circle. “There never has been.” “So we make the assumption that she found her power here.” “What does a witch need, Kaede?” “Bodies.” He couldn’t meet her eye. He wasn’t proud of what he did. At least he wasn’t the same as his ancestors, who’d enjoyed the process of breaking down the corpses themselves, dismembering, draining blood and fat. He left that job to the Words. “One a week to maintain the protecting spells around the Lord Tarou and a spare for my own use.” He caught her expression. “It’s sympathetic magic. I use sweat for movement, powdered eyeballs for seeing or finding—” “Enough, Kaede please.” She held up her hand. “I have a strong stomach, but not for this.” A wry smile cut her mouth. “Not after I’ve just been eaten.” She poured tea into the little cup and sipped it. “So you use bodies. The Words. Where do they come from?” He shrugged. “My mother taught me, and her father taught her. Our knowledge has passed from parent to child for centuries.” He remembered sitting at the table in the cellars in the lodge and in the larger laboratory at the palace as his mother poured over the heavy tome passed down through the generations. Kaede closed his eyes and stopped himself from groaning. He needed to sleep, because he was a fool. “Her book. She has to have a book.” He glanced out of the window. The morning was moving on. He let out a slow breath and turned back to his bag. It was dangerous, but he would have to risk another weaving. He picked up the blackened crown of the skull and tipped more black powder into it. With a pop, it ignited. Soft, warm ash coated his fingers and he redrew his circle.

“What are you doing?” He didn’t look up, murmuring the protecting Words until the circle was complete. He straightened. “We have to search for her book. Something this precious she would’ve hidden. This is the quickest way to find it.” He dropped his ingredients in the leather pouch, mixing powdered eyeball, blood, bone and a trickle of his own sweat. Holding a yellowed finger bone in his teeth, he adjusted the silver hood around his face and stepped over the line of ash. Heat flared and energy surged through his veins. Kaede spat out the bone. It floated in the air before him and he heard Vara gasp. He ignored her. He had to finish the weaving with no distractions. He painted the air with a throbbing tangle of liquid gold and poured more of his Words into the pulsing web. Throwing the powder, he knotted the weave with the binding Words. The finger bone quivered, twisting, searching. It shot away from him. Arrowing around the room, it had Vara shrinking back onto her couch. The bone shot into the small garden and disappeared into the undergrowth. Kaede’s eyes narrowed and his Words changed. He winced against the pain as they drew their ingredients from him. The golden web shifted, altered its pattern. There was a faint rustle as the plants parted, revealing rich black earth. Soil piled up and a stone lifted, hovered. A moment later, a soft, leather-bound book flopped onto the stone path. Kaede dropped the stone back into its place and urged the soil and plants to surge over the hole. He retraced the spider-thin weaving of gold, drawing it from the air. The bone returned to him, dropping into his palm. His knees buckled, but he waved Vara away. “Leave me. Don’t step into the circle.” He wiped the sweat from his face and willed the pain from his bones, his flesh. He was stupid to forget the price of his craft. He stepped out of the circle and flopped onto the couch beside Vara. “Are you all right?” “I got carried away,” he muttered, trembling fingers pushing back his thin hood. “Forgot that Words need to feed. And if I change the weave, they feed on me.” He met Vara’s horrified gaze and made a smile lift his mouth. “Get me the book? Please?” She blinked. “The book. Yes.” Vara returned with the book, wiping at the soil-stained thin hide of its cover. Kaede ran his hand over the Word-carved surface and a surge of power rushed against his palm. Cautious, he opened the cover. Neat stitching secured the skin to the thin ebony board. The Lady Annaliese had been busy. He’d worked with cured human skin long enough to recognise it under his fingertips. Annaliese’s neat script covered the first page, listing her first attempts at creating the book to secure her Words. He turned to the back of the fat book. Word formulae ran side by side with diary entries and experiments. He scanned them quickly, a knot tightening in his gut as he read on. She’d been a quick study, too quick. Her success was terrifying. “What is it?” Vara asked.

Was his horror so obvious? “Annaliese was clever and powerful.” He skirted one weaving, scared to read it. His memory was too sharp; once read, never forgotten. And some magic he didn’t want to know. “What she attempted…” He turned the page quickly and glanced through more of her diary entries. He stared. “She was insane.” He shut the book and gripped the edges, holding it tight. “What?” “If I’m reading this correctly…” He shook his head. “She was playing to Tarou’s ambitions. And his lusts.” He rubbed a thumb over the cover, over protecting Words carved there. They stung his skin. “He is sleeping with the queen. And Annaliese promised to make him king.” Vara sank to her couch. Her hand slipped to her throat and massaged her skin. “King? How the hell could she do that?” Kaede still had trouble believing the audacity of the woman. Her skill as a witch must have been incredible. Yet, he had never felt any power from her. How many others had he missed? Kaede closed his eyes, calmed his heart with deep, even breaths. Vara couldn’t make Tarou king. They were both dead. “The line of kings is eternal. Tarou wanted his soul put in the current king’s body.” “Was I a practise run or did something go wrong?” “I don’t know. But there are hints... I don’t think either of us are here right now by accident.” Kaede opened the book again and stared at the list of ingredients and the Words written in Annaliese’s own hand. He had all the ingredients. He was a competent witch... No, he was insane to think he could do this; defy his lord. And would the oath burn him to ash in the attempt? He looked up and found Vara staring at him, her hands knotted. One thing was certain, she couldn’t perform the weaving. But to make Tarou king. The man would kill anyone who knew of his secret. So, he and Vara were dead. Again. He closed the book. The Lady Annaliese wasn’t stupid. A wry smile pulled at his mouth. What if the wily lady had fooled Tarou, wanting revenge on her former husband? Kaede blinked. He stared at Vara. “Annaliese isn’t dead. She moved her own soul. I think she’s the king.” Vara shook his head. “Tarou’s head would be on a pike by now. If that was her plan, it failed.” Kaede ran his fingers through his hair, his gaze dropping from her. He fixed on the thin crack in the stone floor. She was right. “This book only has that she planned to move Tarou, nothing about herself. And nothing about us.” “I can’t weave.” She stood and crossed the floor, her feet silent on the rug. Her hand dropped to the book he held, tracing its edge. “But you can.” Kaede stared up at her. Determination shone in her eyes. “Put Tarou in the king’s body? We’d both be dead within the hour.” “No,” she said. “Not the king. Tarou. You pull me into him.” “No.” Vara’s sharp blue eyes narrowed. “Don’t want to be attracted to your lord?” A smile pulled at his mouth. She was quick. He stared at his hands gripping the book. He had hated Tarou for years. To think that his body would react to his lord as it reacted to Vara was…disturbing. “No, I don’t.” He pushed himself to his feet. “There has to be another way.”

“This is our best chance of staying alive. I can’t perform the ritual, so Tarou burns us. You perform the ritual and put his soul inside the king? We know the secret and Tarou burns us.” She took the book from him. “But this way. I’m Tarou. And we leave here very much alive.” “If it works,” Kaede muttered. “If it doesn’t, then I’m dead and so are you,” Vara said. “I’ve been dead today already.” She smiled and humour lit her eyes. His heart contracted. Yes, he would miss her. “It’s really not so bad.” “Except for being eaten alive.” Vara laughed. “Don’t remind me.” She let out a slow breath and there was a spark to her that had him suddenly nervous. “So…how about my deal now?” “Vara…” “Would you want me as Tarou? I know he’s almost handsome in a stark and terrifying way. But really, this body is so much nicer.” She stepped closer and the book pressed between them, crackling heat over Kaede’s stomach. The soft mixing of her scent slid deep into his lungs. She traced his jaw, her touch light, sure. He saw something else in her eyes and his heart tightened. Fear. Vara was scared. They were going to die. He made himself smile. “Yes, I’d like to know you as a woman first.” Vara smirked and stood back from him. “You say all the right things.”

Chapter Six

Vara closed the door to the bedroom. Nerves had her leaning back against the cool wood. It was odd when she had propositioned him…twice. She shouldn’t be nervous; she felt deep down in her gut that she didn’t get nervous. It was just sex. Old knowledge burst over her…and as a captain, she took a potion that guarded her against disease and pregnancy. She stared down at the scarlet robe, its silk shimmering in the light from the narrow window. However, she was not in her body. Was that why she was anxious? Kaede stood beside the bed, his hands knotted and white. He looked more nervous than she did.

Vara ran the back of her hand over her mouth and wiped off the foul grease the maid painted there. They didn’t have time for this. “Kaede, can you get me out of these clothes?” His smile was brief and he waved for her to turn around. “I can try.” With a few deft pulls, the belt loosened and Vara let out her first full breath in hours. The belt dropped to the floor. She had to resist the temptation to stomp on it. “So much better.” He laughed and slid warm hands over her hips and waist. “Yes.” He unfastened the thin belts under her breasts and pulled apart the robe, sliding it from her shoulders to drop to a puddle of cloth at her feet. “Turn around, Vara.” The curls of gold in her hair clinked as she turned to face him. His fingers worked at the last knot of her tunic and she smiled at the look of concentration on his face. “I used to be easier to undress.” Kaede’s mouth twitched, shifting into a grin when the knot slid free. He tugged the hem upward and Vara obediently lifted her arms. She shook her hair free. “I’d say this is fairly easy.” Her trews dropped to the floor. “Yes, very easy.” His hand framed her jaw, his thumb tracing over her lip. “Do you feel undressed enough now?” She licked his thumb and grinned. “Perhaps.” She pushed Kaede towards the high bed; his legs hit the edge of the mattress and he sank down. Stepping close, she ran her fingers through his hair. He watched her, his dark eyes intense, and Vara had the uneasy feeling he was trying to burn the memory of her into his thoughts. “We have now, Kaede. I know the weaving may not work…and even if it does, I can’t imagine you here with Tarou.” “No.” A brief smile pulled at his mouth. “His rooms are in the western wing.” Vara growled at him. Kaede laughed and slid warm hands around her waist, pulling her to him. He rested his head against her breasts and his slow sigh stirred her skin. “I can’t promise anything, Vara.” The rhythm of his slow strokes over the hollow of her spine slid an easy heat through her flesh. She closed her eyes. “I know.” His hands stilled. “He killed my mother.” Vara’s heart squeezed. “I’m sorry, Kaede.” He let out a hot breath and it prickled her skin. Kaede looked up and, for a long moment, Vara let herself sink into the liquid black of his gaze. The tug was there between them, an instant lust, perhaps in time something more and there too, the knowledge of the life they should’ve had. Yet as she’d said, they had now. And now would have to do. Vara twitched a smile as his fingers curved around her buttocks. With a wink, his tongue curled against her nipple. She gasped, arching into his mouth. “Shouldn’t you lose some clothes?” Kaede didn’t seem to be listening as his fingers slid between her thighs and rubbed in exactly the right way. Vara groaned, pressing his head against her breast. “Clothes, Kaede.” He pulled his mouth away from her breast with a deliberate pop, yanked his linen tunic over his head, and dropped it to the floor. His undershirt followed. Vara ran a hesitant finger over his collarbone, tracing over the curves of a spiralling tattoo. Kaede’s skin was warm and smooth, but the ink drawn against his flesh pulsed beneath her touch. More tattoos swept over his torso. “They’re beautiful,” she murmured.

“My mark as a witch.” He unstrapped and tugged off his boots and shrugged out of his breeches. Kaede undid the ribbons holding up her long silk socks. “I was tempted to keep these.” Vara ran her hand over his muscled leg, her thumb pressing his inner thigh. “They look better on me.” “You’re funny, Vara.” She smirked at him. “I try.” The thin cut of light from the narrow window edged his scowl. A rush of lust hit her. Snatches of her past life were still elusive, but she was certain she’d never had anyone quite as pretty as Kaede. Vara shoved him and he flopped back against the mattress. She sat astride him, pressing against his erection in a way that made her bite her lip around a grin. She leant forward and her teeth caught his bottom lip. Closing her eyes, she covered his mouth, her tongue curling, tangling with his. He tasted of spices, the gentle tang of tea and something else that made her moan soft against him. Heat surged through her body. Vara deepened the kiss. Kaede’s arms wrapped tight around her. He rolled them and Vara sank deep into the smooth blankets. The hot brush of his skin against hers burst flickers of light behind her eyes. Vara shifted her legs, grabbed his buttocks and he groaned into her mouth. The head of his penis rubbed hard against her in a delicious rhythm. Sweet tension tightened in her pelvis, pulsing through her. Vara’s mouth broke away. “Kaede…” “You want me?” She grinned at him. “Maybe.” “Maybe?” He pushed, sliding deep inside her and she arched to take more of him. Kaede’s laugh was wicked and he pulled free. “Or maybe not?” Vara glared at him. “Don’t make me smack you.” “That might be fun. But this,” he buried himself and Vara forgot her anger, forgot everything else, “this is good too.” She linked her legs, urging him hard against her, urging him fast. Fire danced in his gaze. “Is that the way you want it?” Her answer was to take his mouth. Anticipation burned up through her body and the taste, the scent of him wrapped around her. She wanted him faster, deeper, harder, because the burn of her release had her aching. Light twisted through her mind, seared her. She was almost…almost… Vara cried out against the surge of pleasure, the intense wave shaking her mind, her body. Kaede buried his face in her shoulder, smothering his groan against her skin. Her head fell back against the bolster and she let out a slow, satisfied sigh. A smile pulled at her mouth as Kaede pressed a soft kiss against her neck. “That was…” He lifted his head and something sparked in his eyes, making her start. “Kaede?” His gaze narrowed and he rolled away from her. Air cooled her skin. She shivered and struggled under the rumpled blankets. His eyes had closed and she watched a muscle jump in his cheek. “What was that?” He let out a slow breath. “What I feared.” His voice was quiet, resigned. He glanced at her, before he looked away. She’d caught a glimpse of bitterness. “You’re the one, Vara.” His mouth twisted. “The one I didn’t want to find.”

“The one who would bind you and make slaves of your children.” Her stomach twisted with unexpected pain and she sucked in a breath. His rejection, his bitterness shouldn’t hurt. She’d only known Kaede for a few hours and in a few hours more she could be dead. Again. It was simply that lust hadn’t hurt her like it before. “Vara…” Kaede rolled onto his side, his hand propping up his head. His other hand took hers and he ran his thumb over her skin in a slow, even stroke. “I didn’t mean to be cruel.” She blinked. Had she been so obvious? “We’re tied to one another now, Vara. I can feel your emotions. In time, it would’ve been something we shared.” She wiped at her eyes and hoped he didn’t have a hook into her immense and overreacting stupidity. Kaede smiled and pulled her into a hug. Vara pressed her face to the warmth of his chest, inhaling his scent and had to wonder whether Kaede would smell different to her when she lived in Tarou’s body. She kissed his collarbone and the words tattooed there stung her lips. It brought her sense back and she smiled up at him. “Get some sleep, Kaede, I’ll keep watch.” His mouth brushed her forehead. “Thank you.” Vara forced herself away from the solid heat of his body. Her feet curled against the cold stone of the floor and she willed herself to stand. She shivered. She grabbed the underclothes from the floor and pulled them onto her sweat-damp body. Kaede had stretched across the mattress, his breathing already deep. Her gaze skirted the smooth muscle of his back, following the swirl of his tattoos. She ached to trace them with her fingers, her mouth, but she forced her hands into tight fists. He had to rest. Even now, exhaustion etched his face. She winced and picked up her robe. He needed to sleep because at some point in that day, he had to pull out her soul. Again.

Chapter Seven

“Kaede?” He jumped awake, batting at the hand on his bare shoulder. His room smelt wrong. The smell of clean sheets, lavender and the unmistakeable scent of sex broke through him. Kaede stared up at the sweep of gold silk dropped into a loose canopy over the bed frame. He stopped himself from groaning. He’d just been monumentally stupid. “How late is it, Vara?” “Almost the end of the afternoon.” The bed creaked as she sat on it. “I think you have to get me more food. I’ve even eaten the fish.” Her distaste crawled over him, a sour turn to his thoughts that burned bitter in his mouth. Pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, he let out a slow breath. Getting used to her in his mind would take time. He sat up, the sheet falling away from his chest. Heat surged in his gut and his gaze shot to Vara. “What was that?” A smile tugged at her mouth and there was a hint of a blush on her cheeks. “What? Can’t a woman ogle?” “Ogle?” She ran a finger across his chest, following the path of his tattoo as it snaked down across this stomach. She slid lower and he yelped, catching her hand. “Well, touch and ogle.” Kaede pulled her into a kiss, enjoying the hot spice still clinging to her tongue. Her hand slid lower, wrapping around his erection and he groaned. For a long, long moment he thought about running his mouth, his fingers all over her body…but cold sense killed that thought. He covered her hand and eased her away. Vara sat back and sighed. She licked her lips and Kaede had to ignore the twitch in his penis that demanded he satisfy them both. She climbed off the bed before his resolve collapsed. Her strength of will fired through his muscles like a hot brand. “Has the maid not appeared yet?” “No. I think she’s left the lodge.” Vara stared at the floor. “Sensible girl.” Kaede pulled on his breeches and tugged the cord tight. “There is nowhere we could hide, Vara. I’m bound to the House of Sang. Leaving would have me dead within a few miles.” He straightened his tunic before he yanked it over his head. “Those who bound us made certain we would stay bound.” “Except for Annaliese.” Kaede laughed. “I don’t know what she was…is. What she did,” he waved his hand at her, “I didn’t even know there were Words to do it. Somehow she found them.” He stamped into his boots. “I’ll get food.” He glanced at the turn of the shadows on the wall. “They still have a few more hours of hunting. I’ll scare up another maid to prepare you for the banquet.” Vara winced, staring down at her loose, open robe. “I suppose it’s essential.” Kaede smiled, brushed a hand over her jaw and escaped her rooms. In the shadow of the long hall, he let out a slow breath. Solid stone walls and heavy doors separated them, but he could still feel her nerves stretching tight. He forced himself to move forward. The kitchen would be in uproar. His presence, though unwanted, would be tolerated. Shouts and the clatter of the horses and men pulled him into the narrow window. Lolling-tongued wolfhounds padded through the courtyard to the kennels. Servants held the bridles of the

hunting horses as Tarou’s party dismounted. Kaede cursed. They were back early. Now they would bathe and feast. Shit. His lord flicked a narrowed glance up and Kaede stepped back on instinct. There was no time for him to find Vara a maid to help her dress and paint her face. He turned back to her room and rapped on the door. There was the faint scrape and twist of bolts, the hinges creaked and Vara’s face appeared. Her gaze narrowed on him. “You have no food, witch.” He pushed his way into the room. “No time. Tarou is back early. They’ll wash and start the banquet straight after. You have to be ready now.” He flicked a hand at her face. “I’ll have to paint you.” “Is that wise?” She grimaced. “Sorry. It has to be better than me doing it.” She rubbed a hand over her stomach. “At least when I’m trussed the pain overwhelms the hunger.” Vara caught his look and she shrugged. “I’m used to four meals a day. The emperor always feeds his soldiers well.” Kaede turned back to the bedroom and the large cupboard storing her clothes. Vara lit a lamp, casting a bright glow of golden light around the small room. Able to see, he lifted out a white silk robe and handed it to her. “This. Whenever I saw the Lady Annaliese at a banquet, she wore white.” He laid the robe across the bed. Vara picked up a leather box from a cabinet and carried it into the sitting room. “The light’s better through here…though you should bring the lamp too.” Kaede followed her. He willed down the thud of panic through his body. He’d been stupid to sleep, stupid. He should have been preparing her, preparing himself. He pushed away his anger and focused. Vara was speaking. “Sorry?” “I did what I could with my hair. Rethreaded the gold. Is it right?” Smooth curls wrapped with gold tumbled over her shoulders. He remembered its dark mass splayed over the white pillow... He swallowed. “Fine. It looks fine.” He turned to the leather box she’d opened and he stared at an assortment of jars. Pointing Vara to a stool, he opened the first jar and sniffed it. He wrinkled his nose. “This stinks worse than the body in my laboratory.” Vara laughed. “She started with a white cream. Smelt of chamomile.” Kaede was glad that she had paid attention when the maid first painted her face. He was used to the intricate painting of gold for his Word patterns and webs and he hoped the creation of a mask of makeup wouldn’t be a disaster. Vara turned her face up to him and he smoothed white cream over her skin. He tried to think of nothing as he rubbed it over her throat and neck and not let his fingers slip down further… Vara’s heated thoughts burned through him and his hand shook. “Can you think of something else?” She blinked and then her mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Why?” “Vara…” He almost growled the word and then changed tack. There was no point in arguing with her. “Which jar is next?” She handed him a glass jar half full of milky-coloured gloop. “Spread that over the cream. She had some sort of cloth.” Kaede hunted through the box and pulled out a linen square. He dipped it into the jar and spread it lightly over her softened skin. Powder and a sprinkle of gold over her cheekbones followed. Under Vara’s

direction, he darkened her eyes with kohl and spread something that smelt of old meat on her mouth. She caught his grimace. “You only have to smell it,” she said. “So, how do I look?” Kaede held up a small, silver mirror and waited for her verdict. Vara turned her face from side to side. “All right, not bad.” She looked up at him and her eyes gleamed. “It’ll be dark, won’t it?” Kaede ignored her and brought her robe and belts from bedroom. He slipped the robe over her shoulders and settled it as he had seen the maid do. “Handy that you were watching so closely, Kaede.” He stopped himself from rolling his eyes. Her humour was there protecting her because he could feel the tearing of her nerves in his own gut. “A lord’s wife is demure and silent.” Vara stretched and retied her white socks, then held out her arms for the robe. He wrapped it over her body and moved her hand to hold it in place. Picking out the first of the belts, he tied it around her waist. “You’ll sit on his left side, and you must put the food on his plate. Tarou eats like a wolf. Pile his plate with meat.” “Will it go that far? Won’t your,” she waved her fingers in a vague way through the air, “magic have swapped us?” Kaede tapped his skull. “I have her Words here.” He picked up the last wide belt. Vara’s hatred of the thing buried a spike in his gut. “But I need time to work the weaving. I’m not certain how long it will take.” He pulled the thick belt tight, stretching the white, embroidered silk. Vara hissed and arched her back. “At least Tarou’s clothes look comfortable.” “There are rumours that he wears a corset.” Vara snorted, winced and rubbed at her side. “Don’t make me laugh, Kaede. It hurts.” Her shoulders straightened and the humour dropped from her face. “I need a quick etiquette lesson. I know to keep my mouth shut, well as much as possible, but how the hell do I bow in these clothes?” “Slowly?” Vara glared at him. “That is not helpful.” “But it’s true.” He put his hand on the thick padding of her belt and the other at her spine. With light pressure, he moved her. “Keeping your back straight, you bend from the hips, until your neck is exposed.” Vara groaned. “Bloody belt’s stabbing right into my gut.” But she didn’t move. “How long do I stay like this?” “Count to five and straighten.” He stood back from her. She was ready. Vara looked like any other lord’s wife, gracious perfection. “So I should say goodbye...” Kaede didn’t know whether the sudden cramping in his gut was hers or his. It was almost as painful as one of Tarou’s Words. He winced. Maybe several of them. Vara let out a slow breath and held his gaze. “It’ll be strange, being a man.” A smile twisted her mouth and despite himself, Kaede echoed it. He would miss Vara Haradt in this body. “With all my bits in different places.” His hand hovered over her cheek, not quite touching. He couldn’t disturb the delicate sheen of powder and gold dust making her skin shimmer. “Vara, I—”

A rapid knock on the door broke off the words he needed to say. He breathed out a pained sigh and his hand dropped from her face. He turned to the door, pulling back the bolts. A liveried servant stared at him, his jaw dropping. The boy shut his mouth with an audible snap and performed a florid bow. “The attendance of the Lady Annaliese is requested at our lord’s banquet.” Kaede forced himself to nod. He glanced back at Vara and found only serene blankness in her face. Her nerves ran hot through him. They were out of time. The end had begun.

Chapter Eight

Vara walked at a sedate measure behind the page. She was aware of Kaede, silent and steady behind her. He knew what she was feeling, had seen it reflected in his gaze. She stopped her mouth from twisting. Yet another strange thing in an utterly bizarre day. She forced herself to focus on the young boy walking at a strained, formal pace several feet in front of her. At least he wasn’t hurrying her to her fate, she supposed. She ignored the tightening of fear in her gut. She was fortunate, she had to remind herself of that. Wolves had eaten her whole...and wasn’t that a pleasant memory...she should be dead. But she was here, with the bittersweet knowledge that she could lose something precious with Kaede, a man she had known for only a few hours. All too soon, she stood outside carved ebony doors that stretched to the ceiling. Guards saluted and Vara’s hand tightened into a bloodless fist. Yes, she’d almost returned that salute with her own, giving herself away in the first few seconds. She eased the riot of nerves in her stomach. Vara ached to grip the warm, leather-bound hilt of her sword, but willed herself to relax, her shoulders dropping, her hands loose at her sides. The guards pulled at the ornate, iron rings in the centre of each door, heaving them open. The hinges groaned, but the wood slid smooth over the deep grooves worn into the ancient flagstone floor.

The page moved forward and she followed him. Washed with golden lantern light and the flicker of a great fire, the banquet hall stretched out before her. The vaulted ceiling, stained a sooty brown through the centuries, swirled with pale smoke. A great curve of a table stood in the centre of the room, already groaning with gold and silver plate. Servants lit yet more candles. Vara’s gaze shifted over the still-empty dishes and bowls and she tried not to think about food. The last of the evening light slipped through the doors that opened out onto a long balcony and shone over a loose knot of men and a single woman. Crowns and jewels gleamed. She recognised Tarou’s tall frame as he stood with his back to her, in conversation with a small, old man she presumed was the king. “Your Majesties, your Highness, Lords…the Lady Annaliese,” the page announced in a clear, ringing voice. Her feet moved forward. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was aware of Kaede. He slid off to the side and she caught him at the edge of her vision as he stood beside the great hearth. His fingers twitched and his mouth moved, uttering fast, silent Words. Tarou turned and his sharp, black gaze burned over her. Vara willed herself to look knowing, to look prepared. She had no idea if that was the look she achieved. She focused solely on him and put Kaede out of her thoughts. He didn’t need her feelings for him as a distraction. She was sure her fear had him wound tight enough already. “My lady.” Tarou strode across the flags and Vara steeled herself. She had faced worse than Tarou today. She held his fierce gaze, saw the thin line of his mouth and the way his hand hovered too near to his belt-dagger. Her gut cramped. Those wolf-men could only dream of being as intimidating as this lord. He took her hand, his grip a little too tight for comfort. He leaned in, pressing a cool kiss to each cheek. He smelled of soap, spice and something that shot a shiver through her. He drew back and his eyes narrowed. “Ready, lady?” She forced a smile. Her voice was no more than a whisper, “Are you ready…Majesty?” Tarou’s firm lips twitched. “Good.” He turned and offered her his arm. She slid her fingers over the cool leather. “The king is eager to see you again.” “And I him.” “Majesty,” Tarou performed a sharp bow, “my wife is finally here.” There was a joking lightness in Tarou’s voice that surprised her. He performed as much as she did. “Lady Annaliese.” Vara bowed as Kaede had taught her, bending low before the little old man. Her hair fell forward and the gold tinkled. She counted to five and straightened, fighting to keep the action smooth as the belt dug into her gut in exactly the wrong way. “Majesty,” she murmured. The king took her hand in both of his. Warm and damp, they made her skin crawl. Hot eyes bored into her. “A pleasure as always.” She gave him a small returned smile. “Thank you, Majesty.”

“Lady Annaliese.” A woman stepped forward, her hand slipping over the tight grip the king still had on Vara’s fingers. With a scowl, he dropped them. The fine gold silk of her embroidered gown and precious stones studding the wide belt screamed money. Her hair wove through a white-gold crown and it glittered in the lamplight. Eyes almost as cold and as dark as Tarou’s fixed on her. This had to be the queen. “I compliment you on the fineness of your house.” Vara bowed again. “Thank you, Majesty.” She looked up into the queen’s flawless face and something flickered there. An odd thought hit her. Annaliese. Annaliese had jumped bodies. She wasn’t the king, but was she the queen…? Did they have it wrong? Tarou slept with the queen. Had jealousy spurred Annaliese’s actions? Vara pressed her lips together and the sour taste of the lip balm almost made her wince. But Vara couldn’t know, couldn’t test her belief. No, she couldn’t risk exposure. Tarou put his hand to her spine and she stepped back. She kept her face calm and tried to ignore the bubble of panic pushing through her. If Annaliese had jumped into the body of the queen, what did that mean for herself and Kaede? “Lord?” A liveried servant bowed low before Tarou and muttered something in his ear. Tarou nodded. “My cook has announced his food ready. If you will sit, Majesty?” “Even such a short hunt has given me an appetite, Sang,” the king said, leading the way to the great horseshoe table, his queen on his arm. “Hopefully tomorrow won’t be spoiled by the over-enthusiasm of a young dog.” Servants pulled out chairs and Vara surreptitiously watched the queen, copying her as she waited for the king to sit before allowing the servant to push in the seat. Vara sat as smoothly as she could, rearranging the folds of her robe. A stream of servants filed into the room, struggling under the weight of covered platters. The man sitting on her other side rubbed his hands together and a grin cracked his face. Vara had the sudden urge to stamp on his foot. Lucky him. He got to eat and she got hunger and a belt wrapped so tightly around her that her ribs and gut ached. Servants stopped before the queen and before her. From the corner of her eye, Vara saw the queen nod and the young boy lifted the domed lid. The rich scent of roasted meat drifted on the warm air and her mouth started to water. Vara focused. She nodded at the boy who strained to hold up the platter. Thick slices of meat, steaming and with a dark sauce running over each slice, sat on the platter. Another servant offered her utensils. Kaede’s words burned back into her brain. Pile his plate with meat. So that was what she did, heaping it onto his golden platter until he held up his hand for her to stop. He speared a small slice and dropped it onto her plate. Vara kept her face straight. Annaliese had put up with that for five years? That had to be a reason for her to work like a demon to rid herself of the man. Root vegetables followed, Tarou deigning to pass on the most wizened morsel. Vara now wanted to stamp on his foot, her safety be damned. She willed herself to be calm. The queen had taken a sip of wine, so she felt herself safe to follow her

example. With the cup to her mouth, she let her eyes find Kaede. He still stood beside the great curving jamb of the fireplace. Most of him was lost to shadow, but she wanted to imagine that she could see the quick, assured movement of his mouth. He had said he had no clue how long this would take. She swallowed the wine in her mouth and put the cup back on the table. Tarou ate with single-minded intent. Vara cut out a small square of meat and popped it into her mouth, chewing slowly. She almost sighed. She glanced at he king as he started to cough. He flicked his fingers to his queen, who passed him a cup. Tarou stopped chewing, swallowed and put down his cutlery. “Majesty?” “I’m fine.” He took a gulp of wine, tried to swallow, but then sprayed it out over his food. He slammed back into his chair, his face scarlet. His fingers scrabbled at his throat. Tarou leapt out of his seat. “Majesty?” He flicked a glance back at Vara and a blast of icy fear shot down her spine. He thought this was her doing. “Call for my physician! Now!” The king’s eyes widened, his mouth gaping as he tried to force air into lungs. Hoarse heaving filled the room. Tarou tried to support him, another very young man holding him up. “Highness, we must get him to the balcony, fresh air might—” Vomit splashed down over the flagstones, the king panicking and fighting the men who tried to drag him out to the balcony. Vara followed the queen. She knew a poisoning when she saw it. She and Kaede would pay for this. The cool mountain air did nothing for the king. His breathing came in ragged gasps now, sweat slick across his face, soaking his neck. His son cradled him in his lap, stroking shaking hands over his wet hair. Tarou glared at Vara. He strode toward her, gripping her arm. “What did you do?” Vara winced at the bite of his fingers into her muscle. “Me? I didn’t do this.” His dark gaze bore into her and his voice rasped close to her ear. “Did you think to go ahead and then poison me?” “No, of course not.” “You and the witch will die,” he growled. “Right now.” He pulled his dagger from the sheath at his hip and pressed it hard under the tight binding of her belt. The sharp tip pressed low into belly her and she hissed at the sudden pain. Damn it, she had to buy time for Kaede, time for him to finish his weave. She made a pointed glance towards the dying king. “Do you really think now is the time?” “They have to blame someone for this.” The knife twisted and Vara bit down a pained gasp. “And I think, lady, it will be you.” Vara kicked out at his shin, jerking back from the stab of his blade. Tarou grunted and released her arm. Anger blazed in his eyes. “Who are you?” Her smile was sharp. There was little point in hiding and if she distracted him, he wouldn’t think about Kaede. “Captain Vara Haradt.” She saluted and watched him frown. “Temple soldier to Emperor Aler of Waen. It’s an honour to meet you, Lord Tarou.”

“Lower your voice.” His own was just above a growl. “Are you insane?” “Quite probably. But being dragged out of your own body will often do that, I’m told.” Light flashed over the blade in his hand. “Time for you to die again.” “Lord Tarou! The king!” The queen’s panicked voice distracted him and Vara knocked the knife from his hand. It clattered to the stone flags and she kicked it into the shadows. Tarou jabbed a finger at her. “You can’t run.” He knelt beside the king, his hand pressed against his wet, withered neck. He closed his eyes and his head fell. He swayed. Sweat broke out on his forehead. For a few seconds, he was silent. His dream had died with the king, Vara knew he’d just realised it. “He’s gone, Majesty, I’m sorry.” Tarou pulled himself away and bowed low before the young man still cradling the king’s head. “Your Majesty.” Vara edged towards the door. Something felt…wrong. What the hell was keeping Kaede? She risked a glance through the open doors. Men blocked the view, expressions anxious. She didn’t blame them. They had just witnessed the murder of their king. Everyone was suspect. The sour burn in her gut had her pushing through the crowd of men. The fire still spat and cracked, but there was no one standing in the smoky shadows beside the fireplace. Panic had heat firing through her muscles. Where was he? She ran around the table…and stopped. There, his body crumpled on the floor. Her chest constricted and it was suddenly hard to breathe. She fell to her knees and stretched out a hand to stroke his smooth face. He was warm to the touch. Her trembling fingers slid lower and she hunted for a pulse. Pressing her fingers against a vein, she held her breath. Nothing. Nothing for too many of her own straining heartbeats. He was… She closed her eyes against the pain tearing up through her gut. He was dead. “Lady.” She stared down at solid boots and willed back the surge of grief. Selfish as it was, she still had her own life to think about. She took a steadying breath. “Yes?” “His Majesty, King Botan requests your presence.” Polite, but it wasn’t really a request, it was an order. Vara pushed herself to her feet and smoothed down the creasing in the white silk. She twitched a smile at the liveried servant. “Lead on, sir,” she murmured. She watched him turn and fell into step behind him. Tarou had kept his promise. He had declared her the poisoner of the old king. Shit.

Chapter Nine

The servant led her through the dark, torch-lit corridors, their pace formal and unhurried. Vara tried to focus her mind, think how she was going to talk her way out of this one. If Tarou had said that she killed the king, he was fair game too. They’d execute her for murdering the king. But she would be sure to tell all about Tarou’s plans. Her gut tightened. She had no one else to protect. Guards saluted at a set of double doors. Her hand lifted without thought, and she caught it in her hair before she committed to the full salute. One of the men narrowed his eyes at her. She was sure she could blame witnessing the king’s death as an explanation for her odd behaviour. The doors opened and the servant strode ahead. Vara followed him into the dimly lit room. “The Lady Annaliese Gaute of the House of Sang, Majesty.” “Thank you, Solada,” came a young voice from the thick shadow. “You may leave us.” “Yes, Majesty.” He delivered another low and immaculate bow and backed out of the open doors. The guards pulled the doors shut and the room sank into further darkness. Vara tried to control the rapid hammering of her heart. She breathed slow and deep, needing to find her calm centre. She blinked as light flared in a lantern. It spread a golden warmth around the small room, illuminating a large table, padded chair and rows of leather-bound books and curled scrolls. Vara had the urge to slip into the comfort of a military stance, but she willed her body loose and informal. Behind the desk sat the new young king. He slumped in the padded chair and let his head fall back against the smooth, worn leather. He could be no more than seventeen, but there was an unexpected maturity in his young features and Vara’s skin itched. Dark eyes narrowed at her and unexpected fear slid cold down her spine. “What’s your name?” Vara blinked. “The Lady Annaliese Gaute, Majesty.” A smile pulled at his mouth and there was something harsh there. “Your real name.” Had Tarou told them about who she really was? But then Kaede had said resurrection was an illegal

act. Revealing it would have him dead too. “I—” “Is the witch dead?” Anger burned through Vara’s uncertainty. “Yes.” The king closed his eyes and a slow breath eased from him. “It is done.” Her hands clenched into tight fists. “You killed him? How?” The boy opened one eye. It gleamed in the lamplight. “Seems I chose wisely.” He sat forward and the golden light warmed his young features, taking yet more years off him. “You had sex with him, didn’t you?” The bright burn of anger in her gut flared. What did this boy want from her? “That is none—” “You did.” His smile was bright and satisfied. “Just as I planned.” “What?” She’d had enough of it. “What do you want?” “I want you to take the Sang strongbox, put it on Tarou’s best carriage and leave the kingdom.” Vara blinked. “Why?” “Because I’m blaming you for the old king’s murder, but I have no proof, so I’m banishing you.” Something felt…off…about the proposal and Vara didn’t know why. Exhaustion sat on her. It was so hard to think. She willed herself to focus. Yes, she should grab at what he offered. Her life and all the money she could carry, how could she argue with that? She winced. She hardly believed she was about to ask, “Why are you being so lenient?” Botan lifted an eyebrow, but said nothing. “You’ll have a passenger.” “A passenger?” “Your husband.” Vara’s gut cramped. She needed a weapon. He’d try to kill her as she opened the carriage door. “Lord Tarou.” “I’ve banished the House of Sang.” He stood and straightened his long tunic. The gold threads gleamed in the soft light, catching on the ivory handle of a dagger strapped to his waist. “That includes Tarou, lady.” Vara thought about taking the dagger and knew that would be suicidal. “I need something with which to defend myself.” “From your loving husband? I’m sure you’ll be fine.” The inflection stabbed at Vara’s tired mind. A twist of hate lurked in the young king’s eyes. Her stomach dropped as realisation hit her. It wasn’t the queen. Annaliese had pushed herself into the body of the crown prince. And now she was the king. “You…” Botan held up his hand and stopped her words. “I’m just a young man, fit, healthy. My father,” he sighed, “rest his soul, was frail and so very old. But at least he died with his family around him. And he always had a special place in his heart for Lord Tarou. His eyes narrowed and he closed the distance between them. He leaned in close and his whisper itched her ear. “Keep this body and your offspring safe. Don’t ruin the work of years. The House of Gaute may yet rule this kingdom.” Vara backed away. “You want…” Botan moved close again and pressed a smooth hand to the constricting belt covering her belly. “Our

legacy.” Vara blinked. “How did you do all of this?” The young king stepped back and leaned against the edge of the heavy desk. His fingers tapped the dark surface. “You’re from the North, aren’t you, lady?” Botan looked up and his dark gaze gripped her. She could only nod. “I’ve heard wild tales from your homeland. Tales of wolf-men and their holy woman. A holy woman who grew tired of mountain life and ached for more than snow and stinking pelts.” He glanced around the room with its flickering golden shadows. “Ached to have a taste of real power.” Her gut cramped and nerves crawled under her skin. The wolf who’d caught her had said they obeyed only one woman. Was that woman Annaliese? It would explain her unknown power, one Kaede had never felt. Kaede. Grief surged and pain hollowed her chest. Annaliese had wanted him dead for her plan to succeed. “Kaede is dead. Why?” Botan smiled, something that looked like a young boy, but wasn’t. The power of Annaliese lurked in his gaze. “What a strange question, lady. He was a witch bound to your House. Though witches, I’ve heard, are useful, powerful tools.” He held up his hand to examine the king’s crest glittering on a jade-carved ring. “I’ve also heard that you northerners are a strange people. For true…happiness…only one woman fits one man. “It must be difficult to make such a fit. Years of hunting, planning so that you’re in the exact place at the exact time to make the needed connection.” Botan’s smile widened and something like dark humour edged it. “Even though you’re in exile, lady, you’ll have your—what’s the word?—mate, to live out your days.” He pushed himself away from the table and straightened. His face fell into the mask of a new young king, with no hint of the scheming woman possessing his body. “I’m being generous, lady. I’m sure there is no need to discuss this further.” Vara’s hand found the door and she tugged at it. Annaliese wasn’t risking the truth being overheard by anyone. And who would believe it, anyway? A lord’s wife, really the holy woman to a clan of wolf-men and practising an unknown magic had jumped into the body of the crown prince, poisoned the king and taken the throne. Vara’s stomach cramped and the pain of loss had her throat tight. Annaliese had set her wolf-men on a rampage though a northern temple to secure one particular soul, a soul that could snare a witch. The new boy king had planned everything, even down to Vara’s offspring, which would hold Annaliese’s blood, to rule after the boy she had stolen. No, Vara hardly believed it herself. She scrambled from the room, ignoring the knowing glances from the guards. Lantern light shone up from the courtyard, flickering a chink in the closed shutter. She pulled it back and stared down. Servants swarmed around a solid carriage, strapping boxes and guiding the team of horses into their harnesses. The animals stamped shod hooves against the flags, their breath steaming in the air. Annaliese wanted her safe, but she’d put Tarou in the carriage with her. It made no sense. That could only mean she wanted Tarou dead. Right now.

Not a problem. Vara drew in a tight, cold breath. Annaliese had joked about Kaede being her mate, the one man meant for her. Had she needed Vara to have that connection to perform her magic? But Kaede was dead, killed by the new king. She couldn’t take her revenge, but she needed to spill blood. Vara’s hands balled into fists. Well, if Annaliese wanted her husband dead… She glanced back to the guards. “Give me your dagger.” The men straightened, the younger of the two blinked. “Lady?” Vara snapped her fingers. “Now.” The younger guard looked to the other, who gave a slow nod. He pulled the weapon free of its sheath and handed it to her, hilt first. “Thank you,” Vara murmured. She turned from them and tucked the blade inside her loose sleeve. She yanked at the ties holding her padded belt and grunted when they came free. Throwing the hated thing into the thick shadows of the corridor, she turned down the stairs. She’d kill Tarou and then go…where? North? She had no family and her comrades were wolf-food. She straightened. She’d have money and good horses. Worrying about her destination would come later. Vara stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Servants still bustled in and out of the hall, securing the trunks to the carriage. Chilled air wrapped around her, bringing with it the stink of horses. She shivered, but the hard grip on the dagger warmed her. She moved forward, weaving between the distracted servants. Tarou stood silent at the open carriage door. His hands were fists at his side, his sharp face cold, tight. His gaze had fixed on the upper level of the lodge. Vara edged closer, taking advantage of his distraction. The thought hit her that it shouldn’t be this easy as she pressed the blade hard against his spine. The toughened tunic stopped the deep thrust of the dagger. Damn guard, the thing was practically blunt. Vara cursed as he whipped away from her. “You!” “Thought the king had me in the dungeon?” Her smile was sharp. “I have more to offer than you suspect.” The servants had stopped, and were staring at the gleaming dagger in her hand. Tarou’s mouth thinned. “We should take this somewhere private.” Vara flexed her hand around the hilt. She was a captain to the Emperor Aler. She could take this pompous lord. “Here’s fine.” “Vara…” Her name was no more then a light breath and it itched her spine. She held down the need to shiver. What game was Tarou playing now? Did he want her as an ally now? “What do you really want from me, Tarou?” He stepped back and his face slid into a hard mask. “In private, lady.” “The stables.” She flicked the dagger at him. “You first.” She followed him into the whitewashed, vaulted room. Stable boys hurried out of their way and Vara’s glare had them pushing shut the heavy double doors. The air stank of damp horse, dung and wet straw. Vara stood with her back to the wall,

watching Tarou as he paced before the empty stalls. “I’m waiting,” she said. “Your soul has been swapped into the body of the Lady Annaliese Gaute.” Vara stopped herself from rolling her eyes. She waved the knife at him. Her body ran on panic, fear and grief. She was exhausted. With Tarou dead, she could escape. “Get to the point.” He stopped. The lamps hanging from hooks outside the stalls washed him with clear, golden light. He looked like his painting, fearsome, bleak, starkly handsome, but there was something in his gaze. Vara had to believe it was a trick cast by the flickering light. “Can you remember your name?” What was his game? “You called me Vara.” His gaze dropped to the floor and for a moment his shoulders sagged. “Yes.” “And?” Tarou straightened and the bleakness in his face chilled her. “The king has ordered us to leave. He’s been generous. But the order is that we must remain together. I had thought that wouldn’t be such a hardship, but now…” He winced and rubbed his hands together. “Shall we go, lady?” The dagger clattered to the floor and Vara couldn’t move. She stared and tried to believe her own instinct. There, in his face…that wince. “Kaede?” Tarou blinked. “Yes?” Vara laughed and fell back against the cold wall. Her body started to shake and she couldn’t stop laughing, laughing until the surge of emotion had tears blurring her eyes. She buried her face in her hands and tried to regain some control. Warm hands slid over her arms, drawing her to him, and she clung to the strange body that Kaede now inhabited. He smelled of leather, spices and something so familiar that her heart ached. She swallowed, her throat tight and then let out a slow sigh. “You smell like you,” she murmured. “Vara…” He pressed his lips to her forehead and the touch seared her soul. “I thought you were gone.” Her fingers found the tear in his tunic where the dull blade had struck. She could have killed him. Heat bloomed in her chest and she pressed her body hard against him. “It’s all right, Vara. I’m still alive. Just remind me never to get on your bad side.” She snorted, pulling back to stare up at him. The shock of seeing Tarou’s face, and of seeing his face smiling, jolted her down to her toes. He rubbed at his jaw. “Yes, odd, isn’t it. I saw me and…” Horror and disgust tore through Vara, burning her gut. She staggered back. “What the hell was that?” The sly smile suited his face and Vara wanted to smack him for his surge of smugness, which twisted through her. “I’m still a witch, Vara. We’re still tied.” She forced her mind to focus. “Can this day get anymore confusing? Is anybody still sitting in the flesh they were born in?” She rubbed at the back of her neck. “What happened, Kaede? I was supposed to be…well…you.” “I don’t know. I performed the ritual, followed every Word.” There was more, but he cut them out of his thoughts. Vara could feel it, that and the first sharp spike of remembered pain. His hand framed her jaw and the unfamiliar sword calluses prickled her skin. “I think Annaliese played us all from the very beginning.

She wanted me bonded with the woman she put in her body.” Vara thought back to her obscure conversation with the new king. “Yes. And more.” “More?” “I’ll tell you when we’re safely away from here.” She looked up at his face and saw that Tarou didn’t live there anymore. There was a softness to his dark gaze that spoke of nothing but Kaede. “What happened to Tarou?” “I don’t know that either.” He smiled and the spark of his satisfaction lit her heart. “But this is Annaliese. I’m sure it was something suitable.” Vara matched his smile, stood on her toes and placed a gentle kiss on his mouth. “You’re taller.” Her hand snaked down his chest, lower, until she cupped him. She squeezed. “Oh, and bigger.” “Vara…” His low growl heated her flesh and she grinned at him. “What? I can’t play with my new toy?” “Later.” He took her arm and pulled her towards the stable doors. “We survived. Let’s not overstay our welcome.” Servants scattered as he pushed open the stable doors. The carriage stood ready, two coachmen already in place. “You,” he jabbed a finger at the nearest servant, a young boy, who cowered from him, “get my lady her travelling cloak.” The boy shot off into the lodge. Other servants scrambled to open the carriage door and pull down the steps. Vara found herself handed inside and made herself comfortable. Tarou…Kaede…she was still having trouble with fixing exactly who he was in her brain…sat beside her. “Nice impression,” she murmured. Kaede gave her a wry smile. “Thank you.” Breathless, the boy burst back into the courtyard. He was almost lost under a mound of fur cloaks. “My lord,” he tried to bow as others took his burden from him and passed the cloaks into the carriage. “I didn’t know which one, so I brought them all.” “Thank you.” The boy blinked and Kaede pulled the carriage door shut. He let out a slow breath and helped her rearrange the wolf fur around her shoulders and across her chest. “Still dressing me?” “Undressing you is more fun.”

Vara smirked at him. “One for you,” she said, throwing a fox-fur cloak across his lap. “So,” she sank back into the deep leather, softened and warmed by fur, “where are we heading?” Kaede banged on the roof and the carriage jerked forward. “North.” “Suits me. Though can we keep away from the mountains? I don’t want to tangle with a certain clan of wolf-men.” She sighed and pulled the furs tight around her body. “Time to leave all our pasts behind.” “Yes, we should.” He gave a final look to the lodge and with it the family who had owned his for over a thousand years. Relief settled in his soul. He found Vara’s hand sliding through the fur to hold his and he returned her strong grip. His mother was avenged and he, he was free.

He reached up to pull down the hide blind and a light caught his eye through the carriage window. A figure stood at the window of Tarou’s study, golden light shrouding him. The young king’s new crown glittered. He lifted a hand in farewell and Kaede was certain he saw a smile lurking. “The king…” he murmured. Vara leaned over to stare up at the window. Kaede felt her unease, her suspicion. “We both know who that is.” “Yes.” He saluted the king, pulled down the blind and settled back into the warmth of the furs. Vara’s arm snaked around his waist as she wormed her way closer to his side. He placed a kiss on her hair and she sighed. Kaede closed his eyes. Yes, they were all free.

About the Author

To learn more about Kim Knox, please visit www.kim-knox.co.uk. Send an email to [email protected] or join her Yahoo! group to join in the fun with other readers as well as Kim! http://groups.yahoo.com/group/daughtersofcirce/

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Now Available: Nimue’s Price To Summon a Demon 7% and Rising Buying Mackenzie’s Baby (as Kim Rees) Past Lies (as Kim Rees) Love is mightier than the sword…

Dunmore Rising © 2008 Gia Dawn Demons of Dunmore, book 4. Sir Graham Dunmore is looking forward to competing in his first summer tournament—until he gets saddled with babysitting a prince in disguise, three fairy-godmothers he would much rather see fly back to where they came from, and a woman for a squire. Gone for years, Jiliana is now back in Westmyre, older, colder, with a lethal fighting skill that leaves him both impressed and intrigued. Jili doesn’t recognize this sleek, well-trained man as the awkward friend from her youth. But seeing Graham again brings back painful memories of a brutal past. One that forces her to live a life of tight control, lest one slip unleash a deadly monster capable of hurting everyone in her path. Yet as Graham patiently teaches her the arts of love, Jili has a glimmer of hope that she can finally control the killer that lurks inside her—until a ninja assassin begins to stalk the tournament. With a heavy heart, she realizes Graham is going to need every skill she possesses to protect the prince—the very skills that could tear them apart forever. Warning: This title contains cranky fairies, a gorgeous hero, and a heroine who just about kicks his ass…plus really sizzling sex told in naughty language.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Dunmore Rising: Jiliana trembled when she caught the look of hunger etched across Graham’s face. On another man it would have sent her running for her katana . On another man it would have made her shudder in fear. But Graham’s expression made her want him to wrap her in the strength of his arms and never let her go. The temptation was brutal. She couldn’t resist. “If I don’t like it we can stop anytime? You swear?” They had played this game before, she remembered with a catch in her heart as she held up her pinkie. Graham encircled it with his own, the huge finger dwarfing hers. He nodded solemnly. “And I can keep all my clothes on?” “Every stitch.” She wanted to make some joke, tell some ribald story to break the odd mood that had settled between them, but her mouth would not form the words, her mind refusing to think of anything but how it would feel to have Graham touch her. “Done,” she whispered. “Done,” Graham repeated. He stretched out beside her on the bed, his head propped on one folded arm, smiling ruefully when she wiped his chest off with a cloth. He studied her for long moments and she grew disconcerted beneath the heavy weight of his gaze. As she opened her mouth to protest, he reached out and trailed his fingers across her cheek, letting them linger on the scar that cut across her jaw before tugging on a lock of her hair. “Ever been well and truly kissed?” When she shook her head, his grin grew sinful. “Okay then, what an excellent place to start.” The tug on her hair grew more insistent, dragging her head toward his. When his mouth connected solidly with hers, Jiliana’s world melted like ice in the sun. The desire she had felt before paled to embers beside the fire that burned inside her now. Graham pulled her beside him, positioning her so that every inch of her body was cradled by every inch of his. His cock swelled against her stomach, giving her a momentary shiver of alarm, but as his lips slid over hers and his hand cupped her chin, she gave herself over to the wonder of it all. Until she realized that instead of easing the brutal ache that gripped her body, his kiss was making the agony grow. When she opened her mouth to tell him so in no uncertain terms, he thrust his tongue between her lips, this new invasion wringing a desperate whimper from her throat. Jiliana wasn’t stupid, nor had she spent her life locked away in the church. She’d seen people kiss, even watched them couple furtively in dark alleys and shadowed corners, turning away in disgust when her memories pressed too close. But she’d never felt anything that remotely resembled this shock of need that swept up from her stomach. The burn between her legs slammed over her in waves, reaching, waiting, grasping desperately for something she could barely put a name to. His tongue teased hers, slid in and back again. Jiliana let her own tongue explore, writhing in a sweep of bliss when Graham sucked it deep into his mouth. They challenged and warred with each other, each strike and parry measured to make the other tremble and shake. When he dragged his mouth away, she buried her face in his neck, unwilling to let him see how far she

had already fallen. He rolled her over on her back, his breath as harsh and labored as hers. “You learn fast,” he gritted out. The pleased sound that bubbled up from her chest ended in a gasp as Graham’s hand closed around her breast. What torture had he devised to torment her with now? When he found her nipple and rolled it gently between his fingers, Jiliana jumped, her cry of need hanging harsh in the air between them. “Shhhhhh,” he whispered, pinching harder, making her scream again. “Ahhhhhh.” She sucked in her breath as a new madness overtook her. Despite her earlier admonitions, she now wanted to rip off every piece of clothing she wore and feel his skin against hers. But he had yet to do the thing he promised. Instead of easing her need, so far he had only driven it higher. The pain shot deep into her body, causing an unfamiliar emptiness. “Please, Graham,” she begged, ashamed of the desperation she heard in her tone. “Please.” She ground her hips insistently against his, hoping something would soothe the overwhelming ache. One of his hands slid down her stomach to nudge apart her thighs, settling heavy between them. For the briefest instant the old fear rose up, but in the rush of her need, it was quickly forgotten. Burrowing his fingers into the folds of her flesh, Graham began to rub a spot that was far more sensitive than the others. “What do they call this in Eastshyre?” he demanded. “The g-golden p-p-pearl.” Jiliana’s cries grew louder as he pressed the knot between his fingers, teasing the tender spot until she thought the pain would never end. Deep inside her body the emptiness cried out, the long years of aloneness demanding to be filled. She wiggled against Graham’s hand, praying his touch would soothe her soon. She was reaching for something…some place she’d never imagined, and she could feel herself creeping closer to the edge, tottering on the brink, ready to fall, ready to float, but she could not fling herself over the line to the bliss that waited in the other side. “Jili.” Graham’s voice was concerned as he drew back to look at her. “’Tis all right to let go. I promise to catch you.” He deepened the pressure between her legs, his fingers finding her cunt and nudging just a bit inside, as far as the material of her hakama would allow. Jiliana knew what she wanted. What she had to have to make her pleasure complete. Graham inside her…his fingers parting her body, filling her, taking her. She pulled his face to hers. “This is not enough,” she whimpered against his mouth. Graham captured her lips in another kiss as he bent her knee and draped her leg over his. He slid his hand inside one leg of her hakama, the feel of his skin against hers driving her hunger even higher. “Is this what you need?” he demanded. She nodded, mutely. His hand slid higher, coming to rest just beside the juncture of her thigh. “And this?” She nodded again, unable to speak, wanting nothing more than to feel his mouth hard on hers and his fingers thrust inside her. Despite all her earlier cautions and despite her earlier hesitation, she wanted—needed—to feel Graham reach high into her body, soothing the space that waited so ready for his touch. “Inside me,” she said. “I want to feel you—” Her words ended in a whimper as Graham nudged a

thick finger into her body.

Ttue love is better than infatuation.

To Fat and Back © 2008 Beverly Rae Carrie Flannagan dreams of Michael the Magnificent, the office hunk. He can have his pick of women, and his pick isn’t Carrie, the office chubby. He’s only got eyes for her best friend, Shiloh of the slender, smokin’ hot body. When Carrie accidentally-on-purpose breaks Michael’s arm, a self-professed sorceress with a secret agenda of her own gives him a pill to magically heal the bones. That little pill also has an accidental-on-purpose side effect—one that makes him balloon to over three hundred pounds. To Carrie’s surprise and delight, he turns to her for emotional comfort. But those new layers of fat on his body reveal a side of him that wasn’t part of her fantasy. Billy Whitman will put up with almost anything to be near to Carrie, even if she sees him only as a blend-into-the-background, dependable friend. Even if it means putting up with her fantasies about Michael, and being the clean-up man as Michael’s life falls apart. For now, he’s willing to bide his time, hoping she will someday see the light—the light of love in his eyes.

Enjoy the following excerpt for To Fat and Back: “Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod.” Carrie rushed to Nate as others helped him stand up. Although obviously shaken, he didn’t seem to have any major injuries as the others helped him along the hall toward the elevator. Spinning away from Nate, Carrie leaned over the railing and stared at Michael’s crumpled body on the landing below her. Already people rushed to him, offering him their help. What have I done? Why in the world did I do such a horrendous thing? The authorities should lock me away forever. Ohmigod, I’m such a bad, bad person. Firm hands gripped her shoulders as she was jostled out of the way of the curious onlookers. “Carrie? Carrie, answer me. Are you all right?” At first she thought she couldn’t take her eyes off the prone Michael, as if God had already punished her by making her incapable of movement. But a hard shake, along with a body moving to block her view of her victim, broke her trance and she lifted her gaze to see Billy’s concerned face searching hers. “W-what?” He edged closer and tried again. “Carrie Bear, are you all right? You seemed almost comatose.” When she tried to shift position to see Michael again, he adjusted with her and kept her from looking. “Let me go. I have to get to him. I have to say I’m sorry. I have to—” “No, Carrie. You don’t. I won’t let you.”

He didn’t understand. How could he? He had no way of knowing what an abominable monster she was. She hadn’t known until a minute ago. “You don’t understand, Billy. I have to. I’m the one—” He brought his nose within a centimeter of hers, and whispered hard and low. “I understand. I do. I saw everything.” Why does he keep interrupting me? Wait! He saw me? Shame ripped through her and she couldn’t look him in the eyes. “Ohmigod. Then you know what I did. You know how terrible I am.” “I know what happened because, yes, I saw it all. Michael wasn’t paying attention and he tripped over his own big feet. Or Nate’s. Either way, it wasn’t your fault.” She met his gaze and saw what he wasn’t saying. He knew the truth, but wouldn’t admit it. But why not? He wasn’t the evil person who’d hurt Michael. They’d been friends for years, but would he cover for her? Should she let him? A groan echoed up the stairs spurring Carrie into action as she pushed Billy away to see. Michael sat on a bench in the lobby, holding one arm next to his stomach. Yet it was the way he held his arm that tore at Carrie’s heart. He—she—must’ve broken his arm. Although part of her didn’t want to, the other half—the better half—of her propelled her body forward. She readied herself to face Michael and beg his forgiveness. But what about the possible legal consequences? Would she go to jail? Was what she’d done called assault? Or worse, would a judge think she’d tried to murder Nate? Or Michael? Or both? She gulped even as the saliva in her mouth dried up and her shoulders slumped. She’d definitely lose her job. Yet no matter what punishment she’d have to face, she had to tell the truth. “I have to confess. I have to let everyone know I made him—them—fall.” Damn, even now all I can think about is Michael. What kind of pitiful person am I to forget about Nate? Billy took her arm and held her in one spot. “No. I refuse to let you confess. You don’t deserve to be punished.” “But I did it. I hurt him—them—on purpose.” She frowned and tried to remember. Had she really done it on purpose or had her subconscious taken over, anger at Nate dredging up the evil Carrie hiding within her? Michael had probably known about the bad joke, but had she wanted him to fall too? Could she plead temporary insanity? Still, the reason didn’t matter. No matter what, she was to blame. When Marla from accounting looked quizzically at them, Billy pivoted Carrie around to face him again and turned her away from the accountant. “Be quiet and listen to me.” “No, I have to explain. It’s the right thing to do.” “Yeah, it is, but I won’t let you. Sometimes doing what’s right isn’t what’s right for you.” “Huh?” Why was he so determined to stop her? She gave him her meanest look and hoped it would do the trick. “You can’t stop me.” But Billy’s mean glare put hers to shame and had her glower scampering away like a dog with its tail between its legs. “Oh, yes, I can. I’ll take the blame before I let you take it.” Her mouth dropped open and he reached over to close it for her. “Listen to me. You didn’t do anything wrong, Carrie. Got it? And I won’t let you say you did, either. I’d do anything for—” Billy clamped his mouth closed and nodded at the group of people surrounding Michael. “Who do you think they’ll believe?

You, the sweetest nicest girl in the whole damn company? Or me? The guy who’s had argument after argument with Michael and who’s always said Nate’s an imbecile? Everyone will remember what happened in the boardroom not five minutes before they fell and they’ll believe me when I tell them I did it.” She was torn, too confused to sort through all the thoughts jumbling in her mind. She studied the determination on his face and knew he’d take her punishment. Billy was ready to take the fall for her in an amazing demonstration of friendship. But how could she make yet another mistake by letting him cop to a crime she’d committed? What kind of friend was she? Could she find another way to tell everyone the truth and make them believe her? “Carrie, trust me. No one has to know anything. Let Michael think he tripped. It is what he and Nate did, after all. They tripped. Why they tripped doesn’t have to come out. I know it’s wrong, but it’s time you caught a break. Sorry, no pun intended. Besides, check him out. He’s loving every minute of the attention.” She did as he said and watched as girl after girl fought their way to Michael’s side. Michael, although obviously

in

pain,

spoke

to

each

woman

in

turn,

flashing

them

his

I’m-such-a-brave-guy-even-though-it-hurts-like-hell smile. Shit. Even in pain the guy plays the ladies.

Smelling like an overcooked pig was only the start of a bad day…

Nimue’s Price © 2007 Kim Knox Nimue enters the shining city of Camelot with her order plain: seduce Merlin or lose her family. She knows his magic, how he can slip under a woman’s skin and work his charm. It’s there in the shine of his dark eyes, eyes that see through to her soul. Merlin knows what she is. In the searing light beneath the Round Room, Merlin discovers that the Lady Nimue is the same as him: a Seer. Now he must resist their attraction to save his own sanity. But a new enemy threatens Camelot with a weapon so destructive, he is forced to join with her and reach into the far future to save Camelot. Merlin has always known that knowledge has a high price. But will Nimue be willing to pay hers? Warning: this title contains the following: sex, violence and a Merlin you probably aren’t expecting…

Enjoy the following excerpt for Nimue’s Price: Nimue lay on the stuffed hay mattress and stared up at the curve of the ceiling. The torch cast a weak golden glow over the smooth stones and left most of the room in thick darkness. Merlin had dumped her there and bolted the door, fixing one of his devices. One that clicked and twisted and secured her better than stone and mortar. She turned and punched her pillow.

“Saved by an invading army.” She let out a slow sigh. “Well, saved for now.” At least Merlin had let her eat, bathe and rest. “Not exactly going to plan, is it.” A bitter laugh escaped her. “Seems I’m not that irresistible after all.” “You are to him.” Nimue’s heart stopped. A Voice. A Voice in her head. Inside her head. Her neck tightened, a dull throb of pain spreading over the base of her skull. Nimue breathed against it and willed herself to be calm. There was something familiar about the voice. She’d heard it in a dream… No. The memory of searing white light and endless pain rushed over her. Not a dream, a nightmare. “You’re…you’re Them.” She felt the twist of a smile as if she wore it herself. “One of Them.” The press of quick spikes into her skull, sharp, fleeting, forced a gasp. “A new mind. Fresh. Free from Merlin’s fixed paths. Yes. You’ll do very nicely.” “What do you want?” A grin ran a saw across her brain. “We know what you’re doing here.” “I…” “Don’t bother to lie, Nimue. We know all, We see all. Your little scheme with Morgan is open and obvious to Us.” Nimue bit into her lip and tasted her own blood. Fire surged down her spine and she curled her body tight, trying to deny the pain. “Please…I…” “We have plans for Merlin. And you are a vital part of them.” Nimue groaned against the rapid pulses of sharp pain scraping through every nerve, every muscle. “What do you mean?” “You will take everything that Merlin has. But not yet.” A short pause and the pain washed over her and away. “He is coming. Remember. This is our secret. Or I will come to live in that sweet body of yours.” Nimue breathed in and out. Slowly. So slowly. She slid her knees down from her chest, stretched and found the agony gone. She rolled onto her back and let the tears slip down her face into her pillow. Damn it. And damn the Iselin Dal to whatever hell They— She cut off that thought. If They knew everything, They had to know that Morgan had her sisters. That part of the bargain she had struck was for their safety. Nimue sat up and wiped her hand over her mouth, wiped away the evidence of the Iselin Dal’s invasion of her mind. Her bare feet curled into the cold stone of the floor. Well, now she had two masters. The clank and clink of the lock broke into her thoughts. A hiss and then bolts shot back. The door groaned. The bright flare of a torch burst over the cell and Merlin glared at her. “They said I need you.” A bitter laugh escaped her. “Nice to be wanted.” Yes, two masters. And now Merlin made three.

Samhain Publishing, Ltd. It’s all about the story… Action/Adventure Fantasy Historical Horror Mainstream Mystery/Suspense Non-Fiction Paranormal Red Hots! Romance Science Fiction Western Young Adult www.samhainpublishing.com