by Stacy Reid
Tehdra shiktred, travelling thousands of miles with unparalleled speed from Nuria to arrive in Aria in less than a day. Tehdra hoped to uncover something that would aid her mission before she approached her contact.
Her darker side inhaled in pleasure at the stories repeated in hushed whispers of his feats during the second Great War of Amagarie. The Nurian King was powerful, respected, revered, and feared. Many called him a tyrant for he had slain thousands in the last war. It was also well-known that he despises Darkans. Nothing unusual there, the Darkage was a shadow world, where all its citizens possessed the chakras of demons, for which they were reviled. While unease had stirred inside her at such wanton destruction, her beast had luxuriated in his savagery.
Nuria was the only kingdom of Amagarie that controlled and wielded fire with mastery and deadly destruction. They honed their chakra to such a level they were able to bend and reshape their weapons with fire and utilize them as extensions of themselves.
All warriors of the seven kingdoms in Amagarie honed their taijiu—dismembering and killing with their hands at close range—to an art. But to develop such skills the Nurians possessed was unheard. She absorbed the stories of swords being aflame. Was enraptured by tales of their ability to meld and bend weapons into liquid fire. Her beast loved it, and fear sliced through Tehdra. Her king, Gidon Al Shar’s throne was threatened by the kingmaker—a man who was a shadow in Amagarie, lauded for his brilliance and cunning. His identity had been a mystery for centuries, and whenever he stirred, destruction ensued because he was brutal and incited anarchy. If Gidon fell to an assassin’s blade, there would be no heir to take his place. The Darkage would choose its next leader based on traits it respected—cunning and ruthlessness. Even with the kingmaker’s promise of a new leader he had selected for their realm, the fight for who would rule if Gidon was murdered would stain their kingdom with bloodshed.
She needed her wits about her while she hunted the betrayers; nothing in her should be panting after King Ajali. Her kingdom needed her, and she could not fail. Her brother had fallen in love so deeply with his mate, that when assassins had taken her, he had betrayed the royal family, which had almost resulted in their annihilation. Hundreds had died, including her king’s sisters and brothers. Though the El Kyn line had been spared from retribution, the stain of their brother’s treachery lived on. She could never atone fully for his perfidy, but she wouldn’t open herself to a weakness like love, which could cause her to betray Gidon. She had to be strong and incorruptible, where Vlad had been weak. Tehdra was grateful she was not bonded with her demon beast, for surely it would be flooding her soul with lust for the king.
Ruthlessly stopping her mind from its furious thinking, she shadow-stepped into a large manor house. The man Bylan had arranged for her to meet was one of the Arian king’s trusted advisors. He was also responsible for selecting women of beauty from across his entire kingdom to gift to the Nurian King.
She moved through his house until she found him. “I am Tehdra. Bylan sent me,” she said, speaking Darkanian.
The man swirled his hands reaching for the sword on his hip. His eyes shifted, searching, and Tehdra knew she had the right man when he spied her in the shadows cast by the crystals in the room. She stepped from the shadows, surveying his robes that were inlaid with actual gems. It seemed Darkans who fled their realm prospered. That was what her king worked so tirelessly for—prosperity for their people…but not by having to hide their very nature.
“You were expecting me, were you not, Sir Morell?” she asked gliding around the room, her hands drifting over the furniture, admiring the exquisite craftsmanship.
“Yes, I received the missive from Bylan, but I expected you to come through the entrance like an ordinary citizen, not with the shadows,” Sir Morell hissed, squinting at her. “No one here knows I am a Darkan, not even my tsari of fifty years.” His teeth snapped together, clicking hard enough that Tehdra wondered if he mayhap chipped a tooth.
“I am only here for the information you pledged. I will depart from your life as soon as you reveal to me what was promised by Bylan.”
Sir Morell lifted the chest on the mantel and took out a red parchment, inhaling deeply as he handed it to her. He hesitated releasing his end. “This is a special order from my house recommending a close friend of mine’s third daughter as a concubine for the Nurian king. My reputation is of such in Aria that it will not be questioned. I have recommended several houses before.”
“I thank you, Sir Morell, for your aid to your realm.” Tehdra raised a brow as he had yet to release the papers. She rocked back on her heels, giving him time to speak.
“This parchment will get you inside castle Shelah.” He cleared his throat, and his fingers tightened on the parchment. “Is our king planning to assassinate King Ajali?”
Tehdra admired Sir Morell’s courage. He must know that she was a warrior of the elite to be undertaking any mission that included infiltrating another royal’s main stronghold, yet he hesitated.
“Of course not. Our king seeks alliances for the prosperity and acceptance of the Darkage,” Tehdra assured him.
She did not respond to the skepticism in his eyes, simply waited for him to relinquish the parchment.
“And if I refuse because I do not believe such a thing?”
Tehdra allowed the promise of death to show in her eyes, and he slowly released the paper.
He took several quick steps back and smiled tightly. “Please do not shadow my life or house again.”
Tehdra inclined her head and darkness swallowed her.
It begins.
***
Tehdra was accepted without further complications as a concubine for King Ajali. She suffered through the procurers’ examination to verify that she was still a virgin, and underwent their ministrations to prepare her for delivery to Nuria with grim resilience. She was bathed in scented water and massaged with precious oils. To her mortification, they removed all the hair from between her legs. She ignored the women as they pinched her several times to get a blush to her pale skin. Her waist length hair had been brushed for what seemed like an eternity, and then she was dressed in garments so sheer that when she beheld herself in the mirror, they finally got her skin to blush.
She gritted her teeth until her jaws ached. It was humiliating that she should react in such a manner. She was of the warrior elite. Tehdra’s stomach dipped at the realization the material she wore was so sheer that her Cerja, the vivid tattoo of her demon beast painted across her shoulders and the top half of her back, would be seen. Thank kings she was not fully bonded with her beast. Otherwise, the tattoo would have covered her entire back, hips and ended at her feet, impossible for her to conceal in such ridiculous garments.
The silky skirt, that slinked low on her hips, bared her entire midriff. With each movement, the loose material whispered against her legs in a gentle caress and flowed down to pool at her feet. What covered her breasts, she could not comprehend. It hugged her body, and had a thin over-top that flowed and settled above her rib cage. Kohl rimmed her eyes, darkening them seductively, while a deep, blood red coated her lips.
Murmuring rippled from the castle ladies as she exited.
“She is a Witch.”
“She is so pale.”
“She is unnatural.”
The whispers were because of the vivid black of her hair which created an eerie contrast against the pallor of her pristine white skin. Tehdra was painfully aware she was different from the other similarly dressed and perfumed females with their dusky and rosy skin.
What would the king’s reaction be to her?
Grimacing, she allowed herself to be bundled into an elegant carriage along with several other females, who eagerly reclined in the plush conveyance, sipping fruited wine. A party of Arian warriors rode alongside the equipage to guard the Nurian King’s precious gifts.
Tehdra snorted. They tittered and chattered with excitement over being chosen from their villages and families to be a hari for King Ajali. The status and wealth they would gain from such a position as concubine to a powerful king was immense.
A subtle tremor flowed through her limbs. She would see King Ajali soon. Even without the urging of her beast, the woman in her admired the power and grace that had seemed infused in his body. Tehdra closed her eyes in defeat, tilting her head to rest against the cushion. She was known for her deadly taijiu skills, along with her cunning. She’d faced her beast’s malignity to learn its chakra without fear, and instead of planning her strategy for uncovering the traitor in Adara, she was practically salivating over King Ajali.
This weakness was abhorrent.
She could sense the curious glances from the other women, and ignored them. She was silent, while they chattered incessantly. If only they knew a Darkan sat with them.
After three days of travelling and resting at inns, they entered a sentried gated post to Nuria, which appeared to be manned by hundreds of ever vigilant warriors. The Arian warrior handed the sentries some papers, then they were waved through. Their carriage sped past rolling mountains and forest dense with massive, thick trees. They raced across vast flatlands for miles before they entered the hub of Adara—one of the most powerful and glamorous cities in the seven kingdoms of Amagarie. Adara teemed with life, and energy pulsed and cackled like the flames the Nurians wielded.
Hundreds of people swarmed the paved streets. Harps played and music danced on the air, and combining with the buzz of a multitude of voices, they gave life to the city in a way Tehdra had never seen or heard. Naiyma—the capital city of the Darkage never had such bustle, nor was there so many Darkans gathered in one place at a time. Madness. She listened to the laughter, the revelry, smelled the spices and slightly hummed to the music. The number of people gathered in one place was considered by Tehdra to be foolhardy. They could so easily be attacked, and defense would be difficult with so large a crowd. Darkans who accessed their demon beast’s chakra fed from the negative energy others released. Instinctively, she inhaled, seeking the darkest of emotions. Her beast was completely suppressed, and no negative emotions rushed in to fill her.
How fascinating.
Tehdra’s breath caught as they came upon the castle Shelah. Beautiful. The castle, a mixture of grey stone and white marble, stood several stories high and stretched for miles. Green grass surrounded the keep, and the waters of the lake glistened and shimmered under the sun. Towering trees rose and spread for miles to the entrance of the castle. It was like a city unto itself with dozens of turrets, arches and balconies with majestic glass windows that twinkled with pinpoints of light under the vicious sun. Tehdra almost choked when she realized that precious gems, diamonds, rubies, emerald and stones of amethyst formed the huge sigil of the ruling house—the Phoenyx.
A party of ten warriors appeared, moving like graceful predators. The other haris nervously clutched each other, and some vibrated with excitement. They were really daft. The realms hovered on the brink of war, and they only wanted to spread their legs for King Ajali.
The carriage door opened. Liveried servants ushered them out, and she held herself still at the cursory inspection by an official. With an imperious command, he bade them to follow.
Tehdra’s gut tightened, and anxiety seared her. Perhaps the other haris were not so silly after all. Her darkness thought the king was its mate…their mate. She hoped the quick, but powerful flare of hunger for him would not be repeated, because then her mission would be compromised. Protection of her mate would supersede everything else, whether she claimed him or not. The idea was unbearable. She would have to do all in her power to complete her directives without calling forth her demon beast. That way she would not have to suffer the call to mate with a man who would revile her, nor could she ever betray her kingdom.
Chapter Two
“It appears congratulations are not in order,” Uriah drawled. “Unless the rumors that pepper the streets of Adara are wrong?”
Ajali glanced at his younger brother who sat on his desk with a sardonic twist of his lips. “They are not wrong. I have returned without Princess Saieke, and we are not in allegiance with Boreas.”
There was a light pause before Uriah responded, “You do not seem disturbed at all. Rumor has it that the Borean princess is stunningly made.”
“Ah,” Ajali said. “I was not interested in the princess’ charms, brother. Her mountains and elixir, however, are another matter.” The great chair scraped as Ajali stood and stalked to the windows, restless energy eating at him from inside. He needed unlimited access to the elixir—the most desired commodity Boreas possessed which had the ability to heal any wound instantly. They were not the only kingdom to possess the elixir. Caelum, the kingdom of water, possessed the elixir in similar abundance, but they were the farthest realm from Nuria. And Caelum also chose to isolate their kingdom behind a wall of impenetrable water. Most of the city itself was below Amagarie’s oceans. Boreas had therefore been his strategic aim for an alliance. Boreas and Caelum controlled a powerful bargaining tool in their healing elixir and they hoarded it like misers.
“Well I suppose it’s fortunate that you escaped such a cold-blooded union. For it would have been one if you had no interest in the princess’ charms,” Uriah said.
Ajali ignored his brother’s penetrating gaze that seemed to search for signs that he was distressed. There were none. He had suffered a significant loss in the silent war being waged against his kingdom. But he would not waste time lamenting. Instead he concentrated on plotting with decisive ruthlessness how to protect his people from the dangers that stalked them—war and anarchy.
“Did I misunderstand the urgency in which you wanted the allegiance with the kingdom of winds and mountains?” Uriah pushed himself off the desk, striding to the mantel where he poured two goblets of wine. He sauntered over to Ajali, handing him a goblet.
“At one point, it seemed that was your only goal as you worked to manipulate the king of Boreas.”
Ajali grunted. For months he had sought to influence the Borean king until the man pledged his daughter to Ajali. He’d arrived in Boreas a couple weeks ago to marry Princess Saieke, only to discover she had fled and fallen in love with a man who belonged to one of the vilest races of the Amagarians, betraying the oath her father had made with Nuria. It befuddled Ajali that with the whispers of war rioting through Amagarie, the princess had been foolish enough to be pursuing love. For him, nothing was more crucial than protecting his kingdom. The brutal lesson of choosing one person over the life of many had been etched in his heart and soul. Love was a pervasive weakness.
“Rumors say that a Darkan has mated her?” Uriah asked in the silence.
“You seem well informed, kalij,” Ajali said as he sipped deeply of the wine, his hand the only part of him in motion.
Uriah chuckled. “It’s my job to be informed as brother and advisor to the king. I have my spies, and you have yours, Ajali. There are murmurs in the city that our people feel they have been dishonored. We will need to prevent any movements against the princess’ kingdom.”
Ajali raised his brow, shifting to capture his brother’s hazel eyes. Coldness flowed through his veins. “We have been dishonored. We will squash no murmurings, and we will see how we can gain from such disquiet. I need leverage to manipulate the King and Queen of Boreas.”
The door flung open, and Ajali’s eyes flicked to his most trusted high chancellor, Bastien who entered with a parchment in his hand.
“News and greeting from the King of Aria,” Bastien said, handing Ajali the scroll, removing the goblet from Ajali’s hands.
He unrolled the parchment, scanned it and raised his brows. “It seems as if King Valius delivered me gifts in honor of my allegiance with Boreas,” Ajali murmured, feeling some amusement. The reaction of the seven rea
lms as they learned he lost the allegiance would be interesting.
Uriah took the parchment and perused it intently.
“Did he also send a chest of the precious gems they are known for?” Bastien queried, sinking into a great chair.
“Several chests, along with ten of the most beautiful women of Aria to join my harem. He hopes my queen and I will enjoy his gifts thoroughly,” Ajali said flatly.
“Do we return them?” Uriah asked.
Ajali moved to the windows overlooking the courtyard. “Yes.”
“If I may, my liege,” Bastien replied. “To return the king’s gift would be an insult to him and Aria. The gems must be returned, but the women would be stained, as it will be said they were inferior to those already in your harem. Your harem is fabled, my lord.”
Ajali already had three hundred of the most beautiful women in his harem to respond to his every whim and desire. Lady Sascha, the Countess of Assia, had been his favorite erratically over the past several months.
He had taken others, but there had been a marked preference in how often he had demanded her presence.
“They are not going to last long under Lady Sascha’s reign.” Uriah chuckled. “She is called the queen of the harem, and she lords it over those she deems beneath her.”
“They are beautiful,” Bastien uttered, “and I believe you need a distraction. You have been travelling some time and must have missed Sascha or any of your other haris, sire.”
“I agree,” Uriah said softly. “Take some time for pleasure. You have not been sleeping. I’ve noticed Ajali. Visit your harem.”
Mayhap they were right. “I will view the women.” Perhaps he needed the distraction. Tension had him rigid, and his loss of allegiance with Boreas had left him cold since. He had plotted on how to use those indebted to him to achieve his goal. He needed consider how to manipulate the other kingdoms so that when war arrived, for arrive it would, he could call in their debts.
