Varyk stared, something flickering in his gold gaze too quick for Ry to catalogue.
Faris lost all amusement. “Impossible.”
“Is Breya one of the females you lost?” Dairin asked, tension lining his shoulders.
Ry could only imagine what that particular death—if it occurred would do to relations between the Black and Purple. “Breya is fine.”
An abrupt nod was Dairin’s only response, but Ry would bet a portion of the immense Black treasure that Kon would be notified immediately.
“A mate would know the moment his lira was in trouble. She’d reach for him.” Doubt cast a dark frown over Faris’ expression.
Ry could understand his disbelief.
“What else do you have besides three dead females, and how does that affect the rest of us?” Varyk’s tone at least contained a vein of steel and lacked his usual mockery.
Turning his attention to the question, Ry revealed all that he and his men had discovered, including Shara’s missing heart and the unfamiliar symbol.
“Someone believes too much in the ancient rituals. You can’t absorb a lira’s strength by eating the flesh. Or any other means.”
Faris’ conclusion mirrored Ry’s. “I agree. But I need to know if the other sects are experiencing anything similar.”
Dairin shook his head. “To my knowledge, no deaths have been reported to Kon.”
“My Silver haven’t reported a loss, but I do have an elder lira who has been missing for a week. It’s believed she nears the end and chose to spare her mate the pain of witnessing her death by leaving,” Faris said.
“Perhaps,” Varyk chimed in, “one of your Blacks has gone mad. A stronger King would know where each of his Dracol stand with their essence.”
“Are you missing the point?” Faris snapped, gold eyes starting to glow. “These females were murdered. Dracol females, while not able to shift, have proven to be physically stronger than their male counterparts in human form. Liras no less who maintain a telepathic contact with their mates. This shouldn’t be possible and Rylin has every right to reach out to us about this.”
Varyk climbed slowly to his feet, glaring at Faris. Anger pulsed around him. “I still insist this is a problem for the Black.”
“Then you’ve lost no females among the Green?” Ry asked, probing with sudden insight. Varyk hadn’t made any denials like the others.
Varyk’s lips firmed. “A few of the younger have gone missing. Four females, but their family and friends are of the mind they’re together. An act of rebellion since they’ve all experienced their First Fire.”
First Fire. Ry remembered his well. It was a time when Dracol struggled with their sexual urges. The violent need to fight or mate often became a driving desire, pushing their essence to the surface until they only wanted to stay in Dracol form to control it or risk harming those they cared for.
“Were any of them mated?” That piece of information was critical and Ry didn’t want to discount it.
Varyk snarled before answering with reluctance. “All but one was mated.”
Faris inhaled sharply. “You think these missing females are connected.”
Ry nodded. “Despite what Varyk thinks, I believe this concerns all of us. The loss of this many liras is not coincidental.”
“What do you propose?” Dairin asked. “That there is a killer among us?”
“I believe we have a rogue. One who’s discovered a way to block the mate connection and is using this ability to target our liras in his search to gain mythical power.”
Faris cursed. “I need to get back and warn my people.”
“Kon will want to know about this immediately. It’s harder to track our Purple because we make our home under water and prefer smaller groups.” Dairin sighed. “He’ll need to summon everyone to the homeland.”
Which could take time, since travel by ocean wasn’t always as fast. “Tell him the Black give permission to cross our lands if they need to take to the skies in Dracol form.” Flying would be faster, but territory laws applied and needed to be respected.
Faris chimed in. “The Silver as well give permission to cross our borders by air if needed.”
Ry waited for Varyk to offer the same and received a cold stare instead. His lip curled when the King of the Green made no response. This was not a time to fall on rigid rules of etiquette. “Varyk, do you offer sanction if the Purple must cross into your territory to reach Kon?”
“I still believe this is for naught.” Varyk waved his hand negligently at Dairin. “Tell your King he may trespass the land of the Green. By air only.”
Though begrudgingly said, it was enough. Ry met each of their gazes evenly. “Report back within two days the confirmed numbers of any lira unaccounted for. If there is a rogue among us, we work together and end him no matter the sect.”
“No matter the sect,” they repeated without hesitation.
Liras were sacred. The one responsible would not escape the wrath of the four Kings.
Chapter 11
Two days. Dara tried to ignore the fact that she hadn’t seen or heard from Rylin for two days. Not that she knew how to reach him. The first day she’d paced her room at the resort, eager for his visit. Lunch and dinner came and went. The sun had fallen and Dara had been certain he’d come during the night.
She’d awakened the next morning completely dressed, slumped over in a chair, hair matted to her cheek. No Rylin. The next day repeated itself, leaving Dara wondering if she’d played the part of the fool. Her heart ached at the thought.
How stupid she was to think love could be found in an instant. A single moment shared between two strangers. That was a fairytale for little girls who didn’t know better.
“What’s on your mind? It must be deep.”
Dara startled and dropped the spoon she held. Her friend, Willow, snickered and continued eating her own food, which consisted of a juicy piece of meat with trails of blood on the plate and several large leafy things that Dara thought still moved.
They’d agreed to hang out today and Dara had hoped the visit would lift her thoughts from Rylin.
“Nothing’s on my mind.” She picked up her silverware and poked at the simple soup in her bowl.
“Hmph. Well, let’s at least talk about my mating. Will you stand for me?” Willow asked, tossing strands of brown hair back from her glowing face.
She’d met the young Dracol female her first week on Vovin at a mating party and the two had developed a camaraderie of sorts. The friendship surprised Dara. Earth women weren’t prone to being kind to one another with the shortage of men, but she and Willow grew close quickly.
They’d commiserated over the choice of men until a handsome Dracol approached and led Willow onto the dance floor, where they’d spent the entire evening. Envy coursed through Dara but she’d smiled and listened as Willow shared her infatuation the next day. Not even a week later and the male Dracol had asked Willow to be his.
Trying to perk up, Dara gave Willow her full attention. “What does standing for you entail?”
Willow finished her meal and leaned back in her seat, rubbing her flat stomach beneath a skin tight sleeveless black shirt. She crossed one leg over the other, causing the silver knee-length pants to shift and reveal the intricate tattoo of a Dracol scrolled up her calf. “I’m allowed one female by my side when I give my vows to my mate. The other females are jealous because I’ve chosen to be with a Silver and refuse to support me.”
Willow belonged to the Black, Rylin’s sect, and her mating ceremony would be held at his home before she moved to live among the Silver. Dara hadn’t shared with the young woman her own experience with the King or the magical night they’d spent together. Lowering her spoon into the bowl, Dara tried not to let doubts attack her growing fear that Rylin might have changed his mind. She envisioned the anger on his face when she’d refused to stay the other night. Surely, he wouldn’t have reacted like that if he planned to ignore her.
“Well? Will you?” Impatience laced Willow’s voice, her gold eyes snapping.
“Yes. I’d love to.” The opportunity would also place Dara right where she wanted to be—near Rylin. Perhaps then she’d find out if he’d used her.
“Great,” Willow squealed, jumping to her feet. “Let’s go.”
Dara’s stomach pitched. “What?”
Willow rounded the table and tugged at her elbow. “My mating to Arwen is today. Well, tonight but we need to get ready.”
“You can’t be serious?” Dara allowed herself to be pulled to her feet even as she uttered the question in disbelief.
Willow’s grin turned mischievous. “I’m very serious.”
***
Two days. Two days since Ry had met with the Kings to share his concern about the murders and through it all, he’d had no time to see Dara. As the seriousness of the problem he faced grew, it almost relieved Ry to not have her near. The very thought of something happening to the Earth woman chilled him to his soul. Even now, he fought his instinct to shift and fly to her side.
Ry strode through the halls of his home, nodding at those he passed. He had a mating to prepare for and couldn’t linger. One of his females would join her life with a male from the Silver sect.
The ceremony would take place among the Black, then the female would leave with her new mate to live among his people. It was disappointing to lose a precious female, and while uncommon at no point did a person interfere with the Goddess of Fate. Love was accepted where it was found no matter the sect.
Despite the late hour, many continued to go about their regular routine. Their raptors preferred the night, as it proved ripe for hunting. Ry’s essence stirred at the thought of a fierce hunt to dispel the powerless feeling descending on him. He stemmed the sensation curling in his belly. There would be no hunting for him this night. He had too much to attend.
Halfway to his suite, a whispered conversation drifted to Ry’s ears. Two of his Dracol stood close to one another at the end of the hall, heads tipped together.
The taller of the dark-haired men grunted. “...he ate her heart as well. King Rylin thinks this is the actions of a rogue.”
“King Varyk or one of his Green?” The other man countered.
“I’d bet on this being the Green. They’ve never been satisfied with the peace accord. Perhaps one of them wanted to strike at the Black in hopes of pushing Ry to retaliate in a show of force.”
“If he doesn’t, others will perceive him to be weak. His lira left him which many castigated him for. Only a handful of us have ever had that happen.”
A deep sigh. “True.”
Ry stiffened at the personal remarks. He’d moved beyond hurt feelings from Sana’s actions, but sometimes the shame caught him off-guard and no matter how much he told himself it didn’t matter, doubt lingered as to whether he could have done anything differently.
The conversation continued. “Now our liras are being hunted like feeble insects. I bet if he had a lira, he’d take this more serious. Perhaps he isn’t the King to lead us.”
The first man snorted and Ry realized it was Rafin, Devon’s friend. “The mantle chose him. It only selects the strongest among us. Even I collapsed beneath the strain as it sought another.”
“We’ll see how he handles this.” The voices faded as the men continued to walk further away.
When they were gone, cramping pains caused Ry to glance down. One by one, he loosened his clenched fingers. It wasn’t important. The Goddess of Fate did not err and the mantle had chosen him when King Sarkin gave over his life to the flame. But the rest of the words gave him pause. If he pursued his relationship with Dara, she could become a target.
His gut tightened. Never. He’d never let anything happen to Dara. But the more Ry thought over the murders—the mutilated lira, the more it became a very real concern that forming a relationship with her would more than likely draw the killer’s attention in her direction. What better way to strike against the Black, the King himself, than to attack a woman he wished to claim as his lira?
Ry entered his room as his essence rose and his Dracol awakened at the potential threat to Dara.
“Ry?”
Ry spun around in a crouch with a snarl. Nolan froze and hesitated at the door. Ry’s thoughts had been so engrossed that he hadn’t heard the advisor approach.
Ry settled back on his heels. “What is it, Nolan?”
“We have received confirmation from the other sects.” Nolan’s expression hinted at the answer.
Ry stilled. “How many?”
Nolan’s throat moved and dismay clouded his gaze as he answered, “Sixteen in all.”
“Sixteen?” Scales shimmered along Ry’s arms and smoke seeped from his nostrils. “Sixteen females dead among the other sects?”
“Yes, my King.”
Ry didn’t like this. Didn’t like it at all. A Dracol with a developed appetite for attacking liras. The number, plus the three of his own, gave credence to Ry’s worry that this was no petty sect squabble or vendetta.
“There is more.” Nolan took a deep breath. “Two of them occurred last night. They were relations of Faris.”
To strike against those close to the King of the Silver implied at a boldness not to be ignored. The rogue who hunted among them was proving fearless.
Ry pressed his lips together, gathering the strength of the mantle about him with a mere thought. The ancient power crashed around him in a wave that almost overwhelmed all at once. Delving deep, Ry once again sought signs that one among them was unbalanced. He surfed through the hundreds of minds pouring behind his filter in a steady stream.
Nothing stood out to him on the mental plane. Nothing to pinpoint if the killings were the actions of a Black Dracol or another. “I can’t sense any disturbance from the mantle. Did the others say anything more?”
Nolan shook his head, his gold eyes flickering with the signs of his Dracol in response to Ry tapping into his essence through the mantle. “No, but I received official word that Konlan will be here with or without your permission.”
Ry cursed. He’d expected the volatile King of the Purple to react in this exact manner when he received news of the dead liras. It didn’t matter that Ry had assured Dairin that Breya lived. Kon would wish to view the proof with his own eyes.
“He has permission, but have the guards keep an eye on him. Warn Breya.” Though it wouldn’t do any good.
Willow’s mating was tonight and every available Black planned to attend and celebrate, which meant Breya would be there and so would her mate, Ranald. Now it looked like Ry would have to deal with a violent, jealous Dracol King in addition to everything else going on with his people.
“Perhaps you want to give thought to the other matter at hand.”
Nolan’s words brought Ry’s head up. He stared at the advisor, a man he’d grown to call friend. “What do you mean?”
Nolan cleared his throat and shifted his feet. “The...the ah...Earth female. I believe you’re considering her as a lira.”
“Yes.” Ry kept his expression guarded, knowing where Nolan was going with this tangent.
“Is now the time to bring someone into your life?”
He shouldn’t have disclosed his desire to make her his lira so publicly, but there was nothing for it. “Tell me your thoughts.”
“Only...” Nolan shrugged. “Only consider that she could become a target in this madness. An Earth woman without any defense against a crazed Dracol male with three times her strength would be the perfect opportunity to weaken you.”
His own exact thoughts of earlier. But to deny his feelings for Dara, a female he wanted more than any other, required a strength Ry didn’t possess. “She doesn’t weaken me.”
“Hear what I’m saying. She’s a vulnerability, and if you care for her what better way to strike at the Black?”
Ry wanted to resist the truth in what Nolan said but he couldn’t. The killings were apparently indiscriminate. Dara
was unmistakably human and Ry would rampage and ravage the land if she came to harm because of his feelings for her.
“Think of her, my king,” Nolan continued, sensing Ry’s doubt. “What’s best for her?”
With bitterness in his gut, Ry was left with no choice but to agree. “Of course. You’re right. I’ll push her away. Convince her to go back to Earth.”
And destroy his own hopes and dreams as a result.
Chapter 12
The couple holding hands across the width of an empty gold fountain represented the dream Dara held of her own future. Arwen, who she’d met briefly, stood erect beside his mate-to-be in black leather pants and a sleeveless silver vest laced down the front. Willow was beautiful dressed in a silver thigh length sheathe, her brown hair up in an elaborate chignon with gold coins pinned amongst the strands.
In between excitement at this joyous moment for Willow, Dara suffered bouts of nerves wondering when she’d see Rylin. She’d been at his castle for a while during the mating preparations and their paths hadn’t crossed yet. Would he be happy or upset at her presence? Doubt assailed Dara and she went over their small interlude together more times than she could count. Had she misunderstood? Perhaps, Rylin changed his mind. She’d gone back and forth so many times with her thoughts, Dara was beginning to make her own self dizzy.
Stationed with the couple at the front of a room obviously used for ceremonial purposes, Dara felt the burn of dozens of gazes on her. She lifted her chin each time a curious gold stare landed on her standing at the altar beside Willow. Thankfully she managed not to fidget in the garment some Dracol had laid out for her to wear. Formfitting and held together by a single brooch at the shoulder, the black silk hugged her figure and draped her body down to her ankles where her bare toes peeped out.
A quick glance around confirmed Willow’s words that none of the other women would be wearing shoes during the mating either.
Rylin's Fire Page 6
