The Devil’s Concubine
By
Jaide Fox
(c) copyright February 2006, Jaide Fox
Cover art by Eliza Black, (c) copyright February 2006
Published by New Concepts Publishing
Smashwords Edition
ISBN 1-58608-820-3
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
Chapter One
Talin’s keen gaze was captured by a flutter of movement on the roof of King Andor’s palace as he guided his mount through the castle gates and into the inner courtyard. The brightly colored veil of a maiden flashed again as he looked up and he saw a cluster of young women along the waist high walls that topped one wing of the palace. They returned his perusal with unabashed interest and his lips curled faintly, for he knew, being mere man children, they could not see him nearly as well as he could see them and no doubt thought subtlety was unnecessary.
A nervous flutter of feminine giggles tickled at his ears as one turned to look at someone beyond his view. “Princess Aliya! You must come to see!”
His interest instantly sharpened. Tilting his head, he listened for a response, frowning when he heard nothing and wondering if she’d only spoken so softly he’d failed to hear, or not at all.
No matter. The maid had spoken to her, the one he’d come so far to see, the great beauty the man children were crowing about and gathering to squabble over. He knew exactly where she was and it would be no great feat to join her there.
He’d intended to confront King Andor about the insult to the people of Goldone head on, but upon consideration he decided he was more interested in assuaging his curiosity about the Princess Aliya.
After studying the façade of the palace for several moments, he handed off the reins of his mount absently to a stable hand and casually strolled away from the crowd that had bottle necked at the main entrance to the castle. The crowd thinned as he walked, peared to a handful and then only the occasional passerby. Moving to a small outbuilding, he leaned back against the wall, folding his arms across his chest and pretending no more than a mild interest in the wall before him as he assessed it. When no one passed after several moments, he discarded his boots and peeled his breeches off, tossing them aside.
He was on the point of shifting fully when it occurred to him that doing so might make climbing through the narrow window above him a little difficult. Shrugging, he merely focused on morphing wings and talons for gripping and launched himself skyward. The climb was harder than he’d expected, for he’d moved into a narrow cul-de-sac and there was little in the way of air currents to aid him.
He was only slightly winded when he grasped the window ledge with his sharp talons, however. Morphing from wings to arms once more, he grasped the edges of the window and leapt down onto the stone floor of a corridor.
There were two guards standing stiffly erect outside a set of doors some ten feet from where he’d landed. Either he’d made more noise that he’d thought, or the movement caught the eye of one of the guards, for he turned his head curiously. Unhooking the whip coiled at his waist, Talin flicked. The leather snaked out, the tip curling tightly around the man’s throat. Gasping, his eyes widening, he caught at the leather around his throat instinctively even as Talin yanked on the whip, jerking the man face down on the tiles.
Leaping forward and upward at almost the same instant, he caught the second guard with his talons around the throat, choking off a half uttered cry of alarm. His momentum slammed the guard backward into the wall. Talin released the man as he began to slide to the floor.
After staring down at his prey for several moments, he grabbed the man’s armor and slugged him in the face with his fist. The guard’s eyes rolled back in his head and, satisfied, Talon turned to the first. That one, he saw, was already turning blue in the face. Shrugging, he balled up his fist and knocked that guard out, as well.
Retrieving his whip, he glanced up and down the corridor and finally opened the door and peered inside. Finding the room empty, he morphed into full man once more, grabbed a man in each hand and dragged them inside. One was already beginning to come around. A quick search of a chest nearby turned up a marvelous collection of scarves. Using those, he bound and gagged both men, then strode across the room, checking at each window for guards.
There were two more guards on the roofs overlooking what he now saw was a garden of some sort, for potted trees and flowers grew there in profusion. It took a little longer than he liked to dispatch the last two guards because he was forced to climb the walls to get to them. Finally, however, he had neatly disposed of the possibility of interruption and merely vaulted over the low wall of the last post, landing lightly on the garden tiles.
* * * *
Emerging briefly from her own thoughts, Princess Aliya smiled absently at the maid who’d spoken to her. It seemed to be the response the maid had expected. She flitted away again, leaving Aliya to her thoughts once more.
The roof top garden was not a place for meditation at any time that her ladies were present. Today it was even less peaceful than usual. The maids flitted from one spot along the low wall that protected the outer edge of the garden to another, looking, and sounding, like a small flock of excited birds as they watched the activity below them, exchanging observations about the dignitaries arriving for the tournament.
Wryly, Princess Aliya thought that, from their behavior, one might almost believe one, or all, of them were watching the arrival of their own suitor.
She almost wished that were the case, but she wasn’t entirely sure of why she wished it.
Almost two years to the day before, when preparations had been underway for her sixteenth birthday celebration, she had been as excited as any of her ladies were, certain that her father meant to settle her and that she would soon be overseeing her own household. She had been tremendously disappointed when that was not the case. She had reached marriageable age the year before and had not been settled, but she had been brought up to understand that her marriage would be of political significance. As disappointed and impatient for life as she was, she’d understood that her father needed time to weigh his decision carefully when there had been no less than three princes who had offered for her. She also understood that the decision was made even more difficult by the fact that others offered for her in the time that her father, King Andor, pondered his decision--powerful men that he had no wish to offend. She’d convinced herself that the celebration planned for her sixteenth birthday was also to be the occasion when she would at last be told who had been chosen for her. Again, she had been disappointed and so it had gone since. Each time her father had considered her suitors and concluded which would be best to choose to protect the interests of his kingdom and his daughter, a new suitor would appear upon their doorstep and he would go back to examining the situation.
She’d begun to think she would never be wed, or if she was that she would be long in the tooth and perhaps too old to bear children.
She had enjoyed the courtships. With each new suitor, she had found something to admire about him, something to appeal to the woman in herself, the mother, the princess and, occasionally, all three. It had not always been an easy task. Some had been young, barely old enough to be considered men at all, others more ‘seasoned,’ and still others quite old. Few of them were actually handsome, but they were quite presentable and only a couple had been completely unappealing physically.
Her opinion mattered to her father, but she was a woman full grown now, and she realized that her personal feelings could not be allowed to get in the way of a sound political decision so she preferred to keep those to herself.
In truth, she didn’t feel more particularly drawn to one above another.
She supposed she wasn’t as excited as her ladies because she had been disappointed so many times before and, although her father had announced that she would be bestowed upon the winner of the tournament, that he would allow ‘right of might’ to determine her fate, she didn’t entirely believe that would settle the matter when she had girded herself so many times before and been disappointed.
After a time, she realized there was a niggling of disenchantment at the heart of her strange moodiness. As unnerving as it had been to imagine men fighting over the honor of her hand, it had also been exciting. There had been a sense that fate would choose the perfect man for her, that she could not make the wrong choice, or her father. She would be wed to the strongest and bravest warrior among them.
Politics had again intervened. The oldest and the youngest and least experienced of her suitors had complained that that was not a fair way to conclude the matter and they had been allowed to send their champions to fight in their place.
Now she might well end up with a man who was not strong and brave at all, but rather the man who’d paid the best warrior. And, regardless of her sensitivity to the issues at stake, she hardly felt that that was fair to her. She might end up with a grandfather … or a boy!
That had always been a possibility, of course, because the young and virile did not always inherit a powerful kingdom, but it was very disappointing to be allowed to think she would have a skilled, fearless warrior as husband and then discover that might not be the case at all.
Sighing, she decided to try to put those anxieties from her mind. Now was not the time to be moping. There was to be feasting and entertainment of all sorts.
The tournament would be far more exciting than it had ever been before for the simple reason that she would wed whoever emerged as the best.
By her next birthday, she might well have a babe in her arms to cuddle!
That was almost as frightening a thought as it was thrilling, though, and she rose abruptly from the lounging couch where she’d been perched almost from the time she had come up to the gardens with her ladies.
Her beautiful gown, commissioned by her father especially for the occasion, was creased she saw in consternation when she looked down to smooth it. She was not generally prone to be so careless with her dress. Particularly not those things she owned that were as lovely as this gown, which had been fashioned of the finest silk and brocaded all over the bodice, the long, fitted sleeves, and the bell shaped skirt, and then sewn with seed pearls and tiny diamonds in a cunning floral design. From the moment she had had her first fitting, it had been her favorite, for the pale color seemed to her the perfect foil for her dark skin and the style was both fashionable and very flattering to her figure.
Sighing with irritation at herself for crimping it, she finally dismissed it and crossed the garden to join her ladies at the garden wall.
Leesa, the daughter of one of her father’s highest advisors, turned at her approach. Her face crinkled with barely suppressed merriment. “I thought you would not be able to resist long!”
Aliya chuckled. “It is almost as frightening to watch as it is exciting,” she confessed, keeping her voice low so that the others wouldn’t hear her.
Several different emotions flickered across Leesa’s face. “You are soon to be a bride. You should have no other thought in your head but the thrill of having so many magnificent warriors vying for your hand!”
Aliya smiled but shook her head. “It is here--I think,” she said, kneading the coil of tension in her ribs. “But....” She broke off, staring down at the mass of humanity and carts and animals below. “It is a little overwhelming, too, don’t you think?”
“I would be absolutely petrified if all of this were on my account,” Leesa responded with a chuckle. “But you are Princess Aliya! The most beautiful princess in all the known world. You should be accustomed to this sort of--adoration!”
Aliya’s lips flattened. A faint frown drew her brows together. “That part is almost as scary as the rest, if you must know,” she muttered. “It would almost be easier to think they had only come because they were so anxious to ally themselves to my father. It would not matter then if I was hump backed or lame--no one would be expecting perfection. What if … what if the one chosen for me does not find me the least appealing as a woman? I had expected a wedding of political significance from the time I was a small child, but I am a woman now. I may have been born a princess, but I am still a woman and I want the same things that every woman wants; a husband whom I can love and respect that will care for me.”
Leesa stared at her in genuine confusion. “But … you are beautiful!”
Aliya rolled her eyes. “I am a princess! Do you think I do not know that that is why I am considered beautiful? My father loves me. That is why he thinks I am beautiful. And everyone else--well they would not like to displease him, I am sure.”
“Your grace, please forgive me if I am too familiar, but--that is just plain silly! Have you not looked in your mirror?”
Aliya blushed but brushed aside Leesa’s anxiety that she would offend her princess. “I am afraid if I look too hard I will see the imperfections I fear are there,” she said wryly. “Anyway, I can not be an impartial judge and beyond that, beauty is what pleases the eye of those who look upon it. It can not be the same for everyone who looks. Even if I was enchanted with myself, it does not necessarily follow that anyone else would agree with me--if I was not a princess.”
“But that is only a part of what disturbs you?” Leesa asked perceptively.
Aliya frowned. “I know what my duty is and I will not shirk my responsibilities.”
“But?”
Aliya shrugged and laughed, but wryly. “I do hope that I will not find myself wed to some grandfather.”
In an unaccustomed display of affection, Leesa slipped an arm around Aliya’s waist and gave her a consoling squeeze. “Then you are right. You are not so different from the rest of us. You must try not to worry too much about such things. If he is very old, he will be less likely to trouble you in the marital bed, more likely to cherish you for yourself, and be considerate enough to leave you a young widow.”
Aliya bit her lip to contain a smile. “That is not a very charitable sentiment,” she said primly.
“Perhaps not, but it is very true, nevertheless, and I see you are feeling much more yourself already. Now, stroll with me. I saw a particularly handsome young warrior arrive at the gate only a few moments ago and I am sure he must be in the bailey by now so that we can view him much better.”
A chuckle escaped Aliya. “How do you know that he is handsome? You could not possibly have seen him well enough from here to tell if he was well favored or not!”
“Deduction, dear princess!” Leesa replied promptly. “I could see quite well enough to discern that his hair was a glorious shade of gold, and his figure a very fine one. For the rest, I am assured by the way all the ladies he passed who stopped to gape at him that he is extraordinarily well favored.”
Aliya gurgled with laughter. “Perhaps they only stopped to gawk because he was quite hideous?”
Leesa grinned but shook her head. “If that were the case then they would have fled, not stopped to stare.”
Intrigued, Aliya allowed Lady Leesa to lead her to the other end of the garden. To her disappointment, but without much surprise, she saw no one fitting the ‘golden young god’ Leesa had described. “You were only teasing me,” she said accusingly as she turned from her perusal of the guests gathered below them.
Leesa was frowning. “Truly, I was not. Look there. He was mounted upon that great golden horse there with the trappings of red and black.”
A thud not far behind them distracted them both. As Aliya turned, she was stunned to discover a strange man had just landed in the garden, having apparently leapt down from the roof just above it, or perhaps from the window of the room overlooking the rooftop garden, though how he could have accessed either with the palace guards everywhere was a mystery to her.
As he strode purposely toward her, she glanced around instinctively to look for the guards. A needle of alarm stabbed through her when she saw the two who’d been standing near the garden entrance were nowhere in sight. By the time she’d checked every post and found every man missing she was beginning to feel downright faint with fear. “The guards are gone,” she whispered a little breathlessly, transferring her gaze to the man approaching them.
Striding purposefully, he had already covered more than half the distance that had separated them when she had first seen him and yet she sensed no urgency in his movements, and certainly there was no stealth in his approach.
A flicker of doubt went through her. Did he present a danger or not?
He was not armed.
He was scarcely even decently dressed for she saw that not only were his feet bare, but he wore nothing more than a scanty breechcloth below the waist, leaving the entirety of his golden brown flesh from hip to foot exposed. The vest that covered his chest was little more than woven strips of leather, open along the sides from shoulder to waist, save for the woven bits of leather that held it together.
A coiled whip was secured at his waist.
A horse master from some distant, primitive kingdom?
Aliya dragged her gaze from him as her other ladies, apparently becoming aware of the stranger and the absence of the guards, scurried to her side--whether to protect her or to draw courage from her presence, she wasn’t certain which.
When she returned her attention to the stranger, she saw that he had halted little more than a yard away and was surveying her and her ladies with interest.
A sensation midway between fear and fascination went through her. His features were harshly angular, almost predatory. For all that, he was the most striking man she had ever seen and she felt a sensation wash through her that made her feel weak and faint and breathless with excitement all at the same time.
The glint of precious metal caught her gaze as he moved closer still and she glanced at the rows of buttons that adorned the front of the vest he wore. Each bore a royal crest of some house she was unfamiliar with.
Was he one of the royals who’d gathered for the tournament, she wondered, feeling her heart flutter anxiously at the thought?
Dragging her gaze from the crest, she met his sharp gaze. His eyes, almost the same golden brown shade as his hair, raked over her and her ladies boldly.
“I have come for the princess, Aliya,” he said finally.
Blinking in surprise, Aliya and her ladies exchanged questioning glances.
“I am Princes Aliya,” Leesa said, stepping forward, her voice quavering ever so slightly. “What is it you want of me?”
Stunned, Aliya could only gape at her maid.
The stranger looked Leesa over critically and dismissed her, returning his attention to Aliya and her other ladies. Even as his gaze lit upon Aliya, her lady, Beatrice, stepped in front of her. “It is alright, Lady Leesa. I am Princess Aliya.”
The stranger strode toward her without a word, grasped her shoulders and set her aside. His piercing gaze swept over Aliya. “I have come a very long way to see the woman that so many men are willing to die for.”
Aliya swallowed with an effort, still too stunned by the stranger’s brash behavior to sort her chaotic thoughts. “Who are you?” she whispered.
His hard, sharply etched lips curled faintly in something approximating a smile, but the amusement did not reach his eyes. “I am King Talin, hereditary ruler of the tribe of the Golden Falcon.”
Chapter Two
Pinned by his hard gaze, Aliya suddenly found herself alone, for her ladies were under no such constraint. The moment he spoke, they uttered gasps and weak squeaks of fear and scurried to put some distance between themselves and the object of their terror.
“An unnatural,” Leesa uttered in a breathless whisper.
Talin slid a speculative glance at the cringing ladies and then returned his attention to Aliya. Looking her over for all the world like a merchant, he surveyed her with interest from head to toe and then moved slowly around her with the same attitude of interest.
Enthralled as she had been from the moment she’d seen him clearly, and as frozen as she had been more by surprise than fear when she discovered he was an unnatural, a sense of outrage began to seep into Aliya at his proprietary attitude. She was a princess! Her father’s heir! How dare the man behave as if she was some common harlot offering her wares!
And him trying to decide whether she was worth the price she’d demanded, which was almost more insulting than the latter!
Her eyes narrowed as he faced her once more.
“Leave at once and I won’t summon my father’s guards to cut you down like a dog!” she said tightly.
Surprise flickered over his features briefly. It was replaced almost at once with true amusement and Aliya discovered that even her anger wasn’t proof against that smile, for her heart seemed to turn over in her chest as it transformed his harsh features. “I hail from the tribe of Golden Falcon, not the wolf, but by all means summon them.”
Moistening her lips, Aliya glanced around a little hopelessly for the guards she knew had already had been dispatched--by this man--she realized now. “How did you get up here?”
His amusement vanished. “The arrogance of your kind never ceases to amaze me--or infuriate me, for that matter. I am man beast--or, as your maid so rudely pointed out--an unnatural. Inaccurate and insulting, implying that only your kind is ‘natural.’ I am as nature made me, so I can not be an ‘unnatural.’ Moreover, if you’ll forgive me for being equally rude, the many people who make up the kingdoms of the ‘unnatural’ are far superior in every way to your own kind. It is a mistake to think we are as limited in our abilities as you are. For my kind, there are always ways.”
Aliya couldn’t help the blush that darkened her skin and could only be glad that she was not as light skinned as the man standing before her. For the pale skinned, their discomfiture was always blatantly apparent to all. “Why are you here?”
His lips thinned. “Because I was not invited.”
A frown creased Aliya’s brow. “I don’t understand.”
“You comprehend insult, though, don’t you?”
The blush that had barely receded flooded back with such a vengeance that it made her feel hot all over. She moistened her lips. “There was no intent to offer insult.”
He studied her thoughtfully. “And yet I am. I wonder why? I hadn’t thought that I was so thin skinned as to see insult where there was none.”
“My apologies,” Aliya said stiffly. “My father only thought to settle a … uh … dispute between our kingdom and those invited here today.”
“Which includes every kingdom in the known world, save those of the--ah--‘unnaturals.’ But you apologize so prettily for the unintended insult that I have to wonder if perhaps my invitation went astray? Am I to understand that I have been laboring under an insult that was purely accidental? If so, then tell me now and I will summon the heirs to the other kingdoms of the many peoples of the man beast so that they, too, can vie for the honor of allying themselves to your father and winning the hand of such a lovely maiden.”
Aliya stared at him in dismay. Unfortunately, he was right. Her father had very deliberately excluded those of the kingdoms of the unnatural. She had certainly not argued the decision--not that she did in general--but she was no keener on the notion of being wed to an unnatural than her father was.
His brows rose when she remained silent. “You deeply regret, but…?”
As skilled as she had thought she was in diplomacy, Aliya could think of nothing at all to say. He’d very effectively boxed her into a corner. There was no way she could claim that the slight hadn’t been intentional without also agreeing that everyone, without exception, was welcome to take part in the tournament.
The plain fact of the matter was that the unnaturals could draw upon powers the naturals couldn’t and if they did take part, she was going to end up the bride of some ‘man beast’ as he seemed to prefer to call them.
If she stalled long enough, though, surely someone would discover the guards?
“This entire dispute has already grown way out of proportion,” she hedged.
“I couldn’t agree more,” he retorted, his voice carrying an edge. “Even I find you quite lovely--for a royal--but not necessarily so rare a jewel as to warrant such a furor.”
Aliya felt heat rise in her face again, felt a pang of hurt, too, that he’d pointed out she wasn’t nearly as beautiful as everyone had proclaimed her to be, or at least that he didn’t agree. “I never claimed to be,” she said stiffly. “Nor my father for that matter. Most of these royals gathered here have never even set eyes on me. This isn’t about me at all. They are only here because they want to ally themselves with my father.”
“And yet,” he said thoughtfully, “I spied at least four who’d crossed the sea, and I have to wonder what possible advantage they might find in allying themselves with a kingdom so far from their borders? I must have missed something rather important, because I’ve seen nothing particularly valuable in your father’s kingdom--beyond the daughter he dotes upon, and as I already pointed out, that is a matter of opinion.”
Distress filled her. With an effort, she tamped it. It wasn’t as if she actually cared what he thought of her, after all. “Now that you’ve come all this way to fling insults in my face are you quite satisfied?”
“Not hardly,” he growled, surging closer abruptly so that his face loomed in her vision and his warm breath caressed her cheeks. “I confess I had something more murderous in mind for the insult to me and my people, but now that I am here it occurs to me that there is restitution that you can offer that might appease my sense of injury.”
Aliya swallowed with an effort. “What sort of restitution? My father will pay--”
“Indeed he will--with his greatest treasure.”
Aliya’s jaw dropped. “Marry you, you mean?” she gasped in both surprise and outrage at his audacity.
He laughed, but the sound had no humor to it. “I would not sully my line, or insult my people by producing inferior offspring to rule behind me. If you please me, I might consider taking you as my concubine.”
Shock went through Aliya. Before thaw could set in, she heard a shout behind her. “Run, Princess!”
She stumbled when she was shoved aside, still too stunned for many moments to figure out what was happening. As another of her ladies, Maude, the youngest, grabbed her hand and tugged on it, however, she followed the pull in blind instinct, lifting the heavily brocaded skirt of her gown to keep from tripping as she burst into a clumsy run.
She had not gotten far when something hot snaked around her waist and tightened, yanking her to a stop and jerking her hand from Maude’s. She barely had time to register the fact that some sort of cord had encircled her waist when another hard yank sent her flying backwards. She struggled to get her feet beneath her.
She didn’t succeed. Instead, she sprawled on her backside. When she looked up in stunned surprise, she discovered she now lay in the shadow of an enormous bird of prey.
Frightened as she was, she realized that as he’d shifted, he’d dropped the whip he’d used to lasso her and drag her back.
Uttering a sharp gasp, Aliya rolled over and began to crawl quickly away again. Her progress was impeded by her maids, who had banded together to try to defend her, closing in on the man beast and battering at him with their fists since they had no weapons. Pride and shame collided inside of her--that her ladies were brave enough, and loved her well enough, to risk their lives trying to protect her--and shame that she could do nothing but try to crawl away like a coward.
She was more of a danger to them if she stayed than if she escaped, though, because they would continue the struggle as long as she was there and needed protection.
Despite their efforts, she made little headway. She’d barely managed to clear the shifting, struggling group when she heard a chorus of screams as he flung them from his path. A split second later, something huge and thick curled around her waist.
Aliya screamed when she looked down and discovered great talons biting tightly into her flesh, so tightly she could scarcely draw a breath. She managed to scream, though, when a tremendous gust of air pelted her and she felt herself rising free of the garden floor.
For many moments, she fought mindlessly against the grip around her, so intent on breaking free that it was several moments before she actually took in her surroundings. When she did, the darkness of sheer terror washed over her for her ladies had shrunk below her until they appeared to be little more than insects, and then quickly became mere dots of color. The sense that she was suffocating clawed at her mind, bringing her focus to one thing only, the need to breathe. It was the last thing she remembered before her entire world went black.
Discomfort roused her some time later. Disoriented, it took Aliya several moments to figure out why she was so uncomfortable. A jolt of fear driven adrenaline went through her when she remembered, and her eyes popped open. The moment her eyes focused another shaft of alarm went through her for she could see little beyond the white, misty clouds that surrounded her.
She didn’t know if she was glad or sorry that she couldn’t. So long as she couldn’t actually see the ground far below her, she could comfort herself with the thought that she might not be as high as it seemed.
But then again, there were the clouds.
Almost upon the thought, they began to thin. Her stomach, even cramped as it was by the grip around her waist and her own free hanging weight, seemed to lift and then fall again. Pressure built in her ears and then dissipated with a startling pop as she swallowed against the knot of fear in her throat that felt like her heart.
Dark jagged rocks seemed to reach up toward her from below, further terrorizing her as it occurred to her to wonder if he’d only brought her to this place to dash her body upon them.
How far had they come, she wondered?
She had never been beyond the borders of her father’s kingdom, and she could not ever recall having seen the like of this, even in the distance.
Her fear subsided slightly as she searched her mind for an answer. Was this the land of the unnaturals, she wondered? Or was it further still?
The answer seemed to appear before her almost as if her questions had conjured it. One strangely shaped peak, rising almost like a spire into the sky supported a ‘platter’ of rock. Atop that slab of stone more stone rose, but these had not been formed haphazardly by nature. A castle, starkly beautiful with its tall, graceful towers, and carved of the same stone, had been built upon the seemingly precarious perch.
Aliya knew immediately that she was gazing upon the castle of King Talin.
She was lost, she realized in dismay. Even if her maids had managed to raise the alarm, there was no way any normal human could ever reach this place among the clouds.
The thought led her abruptly back to the battle in her garden. Had he slain ladies as well as her guards?
A different sort of horror filled her as that thought materialized in her mind. After struggling to sort through the disjointed images in her memory, though, she was relieved that she could remember the expressions of dismay on her ladies’ upturned faces as she’d been whisked away. He’d merely shoved them out of his way, she realized, remembering no sign of injury either on their persons or in their expressions.
A new anxiety rose, mixed liberally with hope and relief. Her ladies would tell her father what had happened. Somehow, he would find a way to rescue her. He would bring his army to destroy the kingdom of the Golden Falcons.
King Talin had started a war.
Chapter Three
As they drew nearer the dark castle of King Talin, Aliya noticed strange protrusions along each tower. They were very like balconies, except that there was no low wall or balustrade to protect the unwary from a deadly misstep. The man beast approached one such protrusion, hovering just above it. Before Aliya had quite grasped why he was doing so, the great bird’s talons abruptly released her. Instinctively, she sucked in a sharp gasp as she felt herself falling. The drop was no more than two or three feet, but she was numb from cold and restricted circulation. Her knees buckled the moment her feet met the solid surface. She uttered a cry, her arms pin wheeling as she tried to catch her balance and failed, sprawling precariously near the edge. She froze when she stopped, unable to command herself to move at all as she stared down at the abyss below her. A thud close by jolted through her abject terror and she jerked her head in the direction of the sound.
King Talin had landed at the very rim of the perch she laid upon, morphing into the form of a man once more even as he set his feet upon the ledge.
The distraction was sufficient to unfreeze her limbs and, in a blind panic to put some distance between herself and the drop-off, Aliya scrambled crab like away from the terrifying edge. Her shoulder made impact against stone so abruptly it sent stinging pain all the way through her, but she realized it was the edge of an opening and rolled onto her belly, racing away as quickly as she could on her hands and knees. She didn’t stop until she met another wall on the opposite side of the sprawling tower room from the gaping mouth and tongue of stone. Even with the added distance, her chest still felt so constricted with fear that she could hardly drag in a decent breath of air. The muscles in her jaws cramped, trembling until her teeth were rattling together.
A dark form filled the arched doorway, capturing her attention. Talin, she saw, had followed her. His expression was a mixture of anger and confusion as he met her round eyed gaze.
Shuddering, Aliya glanced past him at the view beyond the doorway for a moment before she returned her attention to her captor. As long as she didn’t look directly at the yawning space beyond the doorway, she felt marginally safe, could feel some of the blind panic begin to recede.
Talin tilted his head at her curiously. “You have never seen a man beast before?”
There was a questioning lilt to the statement, but she realized it was a statement and required no response, which was just as well since her vocal chords seemed as frozen as everything else.
“Your fear is … excessive. I will not harm you.”
Aliya stared at him blankly, trying to wrap her mind around what he’d said.
He thought his beast form had frightened her out of her mind, she decided.
It had been unnerving to say the very least.
The view from the clouds was what had frightened her out of her wits, however, and the drop onto the open balcony. She had thought for several terrifying moments that she would roll off to fall endlessly until she crashed into the rocks below.
Another shudder went through her as her mind instantly conjured the image.
He wouldn’t harm her? He’d made it very clear when he’d taken her that he meant to turn her into his whore. Exactly what constituted harm in his mind, she wondered a little wildly? Ruining her life wasn’t harm enough? Destroying all chance of happiness for her wasn’t harm? Was she supposed to just take his word for it that he would not beat or torture her, merely rape her? Because he would have to force himself upon her. She would never yield to him willingly. “My father will come for me,” she stammered abruptly, with something akin to childish bravado since she knew very well that there was no chance at all that her father could ever rescue her from this palace in the sky.
Talin crouched in front of her so that he was more or less eye level with her. When he did, she drew her knees up tightly against her chest. “He will not,” he said grimly. “The sooner you accept that, the better.”
A crushing sense of defeat washed over her at his calm pronouncement, because she knew he was right. She was completely at his mercy and she wasn’t at all certain he had any. She could do nothing but accept--whatever he meant to do with her. Her mind simply refused to furnish her with any speculation as to what that might entail.
She surged to her feet, flattening herself against the wall at her back. “He would rather I was dead than dishonored, my belly swollen with the babe of a … a…!” she stammered a little hysterically, breaking off when she found she couldn’t remember what he’d called his people.
His lips tightened, his eyes narrowing with anger as he, too, came slowly to his feet. “Such a loving father,” he murmured.
“I would prefer it!” Aliya screamed at him with fury borne of fear. Pushing away from the wall abruptly, she raced toward the arch and the blue beyond. Don’t think about it! She commanded herself. For your honor, and your father’s honor, just do it!
She caught him by surprise. She’d already reached the archway and burst through it when something white hot snaked around her waist, yanking her to a halt on the very edge of the precipice and crushing the air from her lungs as if she’d been punched in the chest. For a handful of heartbeats she stared down at the clouds and rocks below her and then, as suddenly as a door slamming closed, blackness descended.
Her last thought as the darkness consumed her was relief. She was never going to know when she landed.
Talin uttered a curse when she began to crumple, jerking on the whip. The tug tumbled her backwards as she began to sink to the floor, keeping her from pitching forward and off of the balcony, but he saw immediately that she would be injured regardless. Uttering another curse, he surged toward her, catching her shoulders before she could crack her head on the stone floor.
Angry and shaken, he scooped her up from the floor jerkily and stalked across the tower room and out into the stairwell. She roused when he was halfway down, but apparently she was still too disoriented to entirely assimilate what had happened. He knew the moment full awareness finally hit her for she went from limp to stiff as a board.
He tightened his grip on her and negotiated the last of the stairs.
“I am perfectly capable of walking,” she said tightly.
Still furious, he set her on her feet abruptly.
She wobbled, but managed to stiffen her spine and lock her knees as he gripped her upper arm and hauled her along the corridor that led to the great room.
“Reyhan!” he bellowed.
The soldier, who’d been in the process of taking a swig of ale, jerked, pouring a good portion down the front of his leather jerkin. Slamming the tankard on the trestle table before him, he surged to his feet abruptly, brushing at the dampness on his jerkin as he hurried to answer the summons.
“Sire!”
Talin shoved the woman toward his guard. “Take her into the dungeon and secure her,” he growled. “Make sure she can not harm herself, else it’ll cost you your hide.”
Reyhan’s eyes widened fractionally, but he grabbed the woman firmly by one arm. “Yes, Sire!”
Talin looked her over speculatively. “And watch yourself. I imagine she would just as soon slit your throat as not if she can get her hands on a blade.”
Appalled and outraged, it took Aliya several moments to realize he really intended to have her thrown into the dungeon. “I am a princess!” she stammered finally. “I demand the rights of my station. You can not throw me in the dungeon like a common felon!”
“You are in no position to demand anything!” Talin growled. “Take her.”
She struggled briefly, but she either saw the futility of it or she decided it wounded her dignity to continue. She desisted after a moment, walking stiffly.
Talin watched the pair until Reyhan had vanished with her down the narrow corridor that led to the dungeon. Turning abruptly, he strode across the great hall, mounted the dais, and flung himself into his throne, drumming the fingers of one hand irritably on one chair arm. A round dozen men at arms were congregated in the great hall. He saw that they were gaping at him in stunned surprise and bent a furious glare upon them, whereupon they returned their attention to the games of chance they’d been amusing themselves with.
Scanning the hall, his gaze lit finally on the captain of the guard. “Solly!”
Solly jumped to his feet so quickly he nearly overturned the bench he’d been sitting on. Striding quickly across the hall, he went down on one knee before the dais. “Sire?”
“Round up a crew of carpenters. They are to install shutters and doors on every aperture--and bolts,” Talin snarled. “Starting with the royal suite. I want my own suite finished by moon rise.”
Solly gaped at him. “Sire?”
Talin’s eyes narrowed. “Have you grown deaf?”
Shaking his head, Solly leapt to his feet. “No, Sire! I’ll see to it, Sire.”
When Solly had left, Talin sank into his own dark thoughts, drumming his fingers on the chair arm. The next time he glanced up it was to discover the last of his soldiers slinking quietly out the door.
He was tempted to summon them back and demand some sort of distraction, but decided after a moment that he preferred solitude in his current mood.
It had been a mistake to take her, but that realization angered him almost as much as the fact that he wasn’t completely sure of why he had. He certainly had not gone to the Kingdom of Anduloosa for that purpose. In truth, he had had no clear idea of what he’d hoped to accomplish by going, other than to make it clear that he resented the insult to the man beasts in general and himself in particular.
Ordinarily, he was quite content that the inferior man children kept their petty little squabbles to themselves most of the time, rarely encroaching upon any of the kingdoms of the man beast. The tournament had been poor timing on their part, however. The clamoring of his beast to find a mate had become harder and harder to ignore in recent years, more difficult to ignore than the grumbling of his council that he had yet to take a queen and produce an heir to his throne.
Even so, he thought he could have ignored the uproar beyond the boundaries of his kingdom except for one minor fact--the princess, Aliya, was accounted the most beautiful and desirable of all, a pearl of such value that no kingdom in need of a queen wished to be excluded from the chance to claim her.
Until it had become known to him that kings and princess from far and wide were gathering to prove their worthiness of such a prize, he had ignored it. The fact that he had received no such invitation had begun to eat at him, however, long before he verified that not one royal from among the man beasts had been invited to take part in this great tournament.
He supposed he should have been appeased by that fact, not further enraged, but so it was. He had not been singled out for insult. He was not even important enough in their minds for that!
At first, he gave little thought to the princess herself, certain that their ‘pearl’ was likely as colorless and unappealing as the rest of her kind. Most likely he would have continued to believe that except for the growing numbers of men vying for her.
That gave him pause, despite his determination to regard her as unworthy of his time or interest. Could she really be so commonplace, he wondered, when so many were falling over themselves to fight for her? Or was it possible that she truly was a pearl beyond price?
And if so, then how dare they consider him unworthy without even allowing him to prove himself in battle?
When he had left his kingdom in his man form and disguised as a prince from another land, he had thought only to assuage his curiosity of the entire procedure and make it known to King Andor that he did not take such insults lightly and there would be a reckoning. For he’d fully intended to call his army to war and teach them the error of their ways if he was not completely satisfied when he left the kingdom of Anduloosa again.
He’d scarcely arrived, however, when he had caught a glimpse of the women in the rooftop garden and he’d decided in that moment to appease his curiosity about the princess herself. In doing so, he would put the fear of his wrath into King Andor by showing him just how vulnerable he and his family were.
All had gone well enough until he had found himself face to face with her. In truth, and though he hated to admit it even to himself, he scarcely recalled what had happened next. He had known the moment he set eyes upon her that the rumors were not exaggerations of a woman barely better than plain. She was beautiful, so flawlessly perfect in face and form that his beast had seized his rational mind, instantly demanding to claim her for his mate.
He did not regret it, although he well knew that his impulse would most likely spawn a war the likes of which no one had ever seen. In truth, he would have been quite willing to join the others who meant to prove their right to her in the contest of skills that had been set to take place.
If he had been thinking at all rationally, he would have gone at once to her father and demanded he retract the insult and allow him to take part, as well, to prove to her that he was a far more worthy warrior than all the others.
He had not been thinking rationally, though. He hadn’t been able to think at all.
Grinding his teeth, he shifted in his throne and glared at the crew of carpenters that had begun to scurry back and forth through the hall, carrying tools and timbers. He was tempted to demand the lazy slugs use their gifts to move the materials instead of waddling clumsily along the ground, but it occurred to him that the task he’d set for them was easier performed in their man forms than bird and he tamped the urge.
Shoving himself from his chair abruptly, he stalked across the hall and opened the nearest window, pushing the crystal wide so that he could gaze out at the view beyond. Even the beauty and majesty of his domain failed to soothe him, however.
She had looked at him as if he was monster, so terrified she could barely move or speak.
He felt ill.
His impulsiveness had very likely cost him all he had sought to gain.
He should have wooed her as she deserved. He knew he was not nearly as handsome a man, as graceful, or as noble in bearing as when he took the form of a great, golden falcon, but he was certain he was not appallingly ugly. If he’d proven his strength and skill as a warrior, she would have admired that. She would have been pleased by the thought that her off spring would also be superior in every way--far superior to what she could have expected if she had been wed to some weakling man child!
Instead, she’d been so repulsed by the thought that she’d tried to fling herself off his balcony.
That angered him more than all the rest and he finally realized it did because it wounded him soul deep, that it was a blow to his ego he wouldn’t easily recover from.
He felt even more ill when he recalled that he’d been so stunned by her sudden dash for freedom that it had taken him several moments to realize that she couldn’t morph as he so easily did, that she had no wings to soar, that she would fall to her death.
And she knew it.
That was the hardest thing of all to swallow.
Scrubbing a hand over his face, he focused on the view once more and finally hopped onto the ledge and dove out, transforming himself as he dropped. Too restless to remain in his castle, he decided to go to the kingdom of Anduloosa and see what he’d unleashed.
Chapter Four
Talin discovered he didn’t have to fly low over the castle of King Andor to see what he’d expected to see. Below him, the man children were dashing about frantically, like ants in a stirred anthill. Without difficulty, his keen sight easily picked out the purpose within the apparent pandemonium.
The man children were preparing for war.
And King Andor was not the only one readying for battle.
That was an unanticipated development.
He had given it little thought, but he supposed if he had he would have realized that the men who had traveled so far to vie for the fair maiden presently residing in his dungeon might not take their defeat well when they realized the prize had been snatched from their grasp.
Vaguely disconcerted, he saw that those households that had gathered for the tournament were now also preparing for war.
Still more in his beast mind than the more rational human side, he realized after a moment’s consideration that he was more pleased by the results of his theft than disturbed. He had not left his lands intending to start a war between his kingdom and the kingdoms of the man children, but he did not feel a great deal of regret that he had succeeded in doing just that.
After a little further thought, he realized that he was actually grimly pleased that he had.
He would prove his right to the princess by might--not in a child’s test of skills, in a tournament meant mostly for show, but on a true battlefield.
When he and his army had crushed the armies of the man children, Princess Aliya would see that he was far better suited to her as mate than any of the so called warriors that had gathered to claim her.
Satisfied with his observations, he caught an air current and drifted lower, low enough he caught the attention of those on the ground below him. When they began to shout excitedly and commenced to lobbing arrows and spears at him, he chuckled, adding insult to injury by dropping low enough he was almost within their range.
Resisting the temptation to drop lower still, and allow them a better target, just so he could demonstrate to them how impotent their efforts were, he caught an updraft and headed back to his own kingdom, Goldone.
It would be a month, at the very least, before they could move their clumsy army within reach of his own--for he had no intention of charging out to meet them like some green youth eager to fling himself upon a sword. He had time in plenty to plan his battle strategy and choose the place where they would meet and in the meanwhile, time to familiarize himself with his prize.
Perhaps he would woo her--just to please her. She seemed clever. No doubt it would not take her long to accept, but he wasn’t certain he would be satisfied with mere acceptance. When he had first come upon her, she had looked at him with frank interest despite her uneasiness. Even with the lust boiling in his own veins, he was certain he hadn’t imagined that.
The sun had dropped behind the mountains when he reached his palace once more. Lighting on the balcony of his own suite, he shifted, examining the stout door that now blocked the entrance critically. Satisfied that was sufficient to cage his little bird, he tried the latch.
He had to put his shoulder against the stout panel to push it open. Displeased by that, he was frowning when he finally stepped inside and turned to examine the hinges. “It scrapes the floor,” he muttered to no one in particular.
Silence greeted that remark and he turned after a moment to study the carpenters, who’d frozen in place at his comment. The master carpenter hurried forward. “I will see to that myself, Sire. I will take it down at once and trim just a bit from the bottom and it will swing more easily.”
Talin, finding he was in a far better mood than when he’d left the palace, merely nodded. “See to it that you do. The objective is to protect my beautiful princess--not suffocate your king. I am accustomed to air--and light.” Dismissing the door, he strode about the suite, surveying the shutters that had been placed over the windows. “It will be as dark in here as the dungeon,” he muttered irritably.
The master carpenter, who’d followed him, looked at the shutters in dismay. “Solly said you had ordered that shutters be placed over the windows. Did I misunderstand?”
“Shutters, yes--but there is no light. I have no view!”
“Bars, perhaps?” the carpenter suggested hesitantly. “They would allow a view and still protect the princess.”
Talin frowned. “I like the idea of feeling caged even less.” He thought it over. “And I do not care to make the princess feel a prisoner if it comes to that.”
The carpenter gaped at him. “Uh--she is not a prisoner?”
Talin glared at him. “Certainly not! I have decided to keep her.”
The carpenter’s expression went perfectly blank. After a stunned moment, he remembered himself and studied his feet before the king could take exception to his obvious confusion over the distinction. “If I may suggest, Sire,” he offered hesitantly, “with a little more time I am sure I could come up with a design for the shutters that will serve the purpose and still allow in light and view. I could do the same with the door, if you wish--cut some clever design into the panels?”
Talin considered it thoughtfully for several moments and finally nodded. “I will allow the princess to think of a design that pleases her. Women like to beautify their nests, do they not? It makes them feel--needed.”
The carpenter frowned, feeling that the king had asked his opinion and wondering if he dared express it honestly. Finally, he merely shrugged. “I think it likely, Sire. She will certainly be more comfortable if she makes the place more like what she is familiar with.”
Talin frowned, but thoughtfully. “An excellent suggestion!” he said finally, smiling broadly.
The carpenter blinked. “It was?” he asked, wondering what he’d suggested.
“I will send men to gather her cherished belongings and bring them here. Then she may arrange things just as she likes and she will be very pleased with my thoughtfulness.”
The carpenter wasn’t convinced. In his experience, once a man had thoroughly infuriated a woman by depriving her of her wishes--which he assumed King Talin had, for, from what he’d heard, the princess had been less than delighted to come--nothing short of bloodshed--his--would appease them, but he wisely kept that opinion to himself. Perhaps, he thought hopefully, she would be mollified at least a little that the king had put himself out to please her and it would stave off the battle of wills that was sure to erupt from the king’s arrogance for a time.
There was going to be hell to pay, though, when King Talin discovered he would have to jump through hoops before she was completely satisfied that he’d been punished enough. He only hoped that he could complete his task and make himself scarce before all hell broke loose.
“We must wait upon that a little, though,” King Talin continued after a few moments. “The man children are preparing for war. It will be difficult to retrieve her belongings before they have abandoned the castle.”
The carpenter’s brows rose. “The man children are warring?” he asked with interest.
“Aye.”
“If I may be so bold as to ask, Sire, with whom?”