Beneath the Thirteen Moons

by Kathryne Kennedy

  “I don’t know who the prince is,” she said.

  Korl’s breath when he answered stirred the hair over her ear. Again, he seemed to understand what she was saying. “He’s the Healer, who helped save your village. The man who loosed you from the tongues of a sea monster and who loved you on a flower bed and in the warm waters of a crystal cave.”

  Mahri smiled. When he spoke the images flitted through her mind, and more. His face when the claws of a treecat ripped through his shoulder, the feel of his soul melding with hers when he followed her into root-madness, the wholesome warmth of his mind in hers. This man in fine clothes, who would be king, was still all of those things.

  And, ach, how her body wanted him.

  “Jaja, get lost,” she breathed.

  Korl set her down and ripped the flimsy top from her shoulders, burying his face in the curve of her neck. Mahri sucked in a breath while he tasted her skin like a starving man who feared that the feast would be snatched away.

  “Korl.” She had to tell him before he turned her will into mush. “My mind and heart are my own. Don’t try to break that barrier.”

  He growled and ripped her trousers in half, letting the silk pieces flutter to the floor.

  “You’re all mine,” he ground out, his eyes burning over her naked body. “You just don’t know it yet. But I promised never to take from you what’s not given freely. I’ve had no zabba, your mind is safe from me, and as for your heart… it’s a matter of time.”

  You arrogant man, thought Mahri, and smiled. Korl’s smile widened with appreciation but he stood still, waiting.

  Mahri sighed in exasperation. She closed the small gap that separated them, unlaced his shirt and slid it off those broad shoulders. And that seemed to be all the invitation he required. His hands caressed her everywhere; hungry, demanding, near frantic with need. And then his mouth followed and she let the liquid heat of it consume her, crying out when he found her breasts, shuddering as he suckled and sent waves of pleasure shooting down between her legs, where she throbbed for him with an ache that made her moan his name over and over.

  He’d taken control of her.

  Mahri coiled her fingers in his hair and drew his face to hers, her body so tense that she sought to calm it with the tender feel of those warm lips. Korl’s pale-green eyes met hers and she lost herself in their depths until her nipples hardened in the cool breeze that blew from the open balcony doors.

  “Mahri,” he groaned, and lowered his mouth to hers, strong fingers running through her hair, down the length of it until he cupped her bottom and brought her against the hard silkiness of his body. She caught at his waistband and dug in her fingers, pulling down the last barrier between flesh on flesh, breaking away from their kiss, knowing she left his mouth hungry for more.

  She remembered the feel of him in her hands and uncovered him without a thought of shyness, sinking to her knees, filling her gaze with the sight of him. Korl mumbled something that sounded like a curse and yanked her to her feet, lifted her in his arms and then brought her down gently on the softness of a featherbed.

  “I’m going inside of you,” he said, “and nothing will stop me.”

  Mahri’s heart stumbled in her chest.

  He caught her knees and spread them, stared at the sight of her open and waiting and she saw him pant and his eyes turn feral with desire, pride, and too many other emotions for her to separate them. He knelt before her and she cradled his throbbing need for her in her hands and brought it closer to the center of herself and when that hot skin touched her own wet core she screamed.

  Korl slid inside of her slowly, as if to make the length of her his own, to brand her with his heat, and Mahri continued to scream, until he filled her completely and then stopped with his body rigid and his arms trembling against her shoulders.

  “Korl?” she panted, full of him but wanting more, raking her fingernails across his round, smooth bottom, reveling in the hard muscles that tensed beneath her hands.

  “I want to move,” he said through clenched teeth. “Are you going to scream again?”

  “I… I don’t know.”

  He groaned and swore. “Fair enough.”

  And he pulled back, then plunged forward even faster until he caught her up in the rhythm and made her scream his name again and again. Nothing existed but this feeling of complete connection, this rightness. This striving for the glorious feel of his release throbbing in her, and her own, rippling through her body in waves of unbelievable pleasure.

  When Mahri came back to reality he lay on his side next to her, his arm thrown over her waist possessively, his face relaxed in slumber. She didn’t know why, but for the first time in years, since Brez and little Tal’li had died, she cried. But she did so silently, so she wouldn’t wake him. So he wouldn’t know.

  “Water-rat.”

  A ghost of a whisper in the darkness. Mahri sat up with a start, reached for a bone staff that was no longer there, and tried to make sense of her surroundings. Memory flooded back and she looked down at the man at her side.

  “Korl? What is it?”

  “My enemies… S’raya. Boyfriend.”

  Mahri ran into the adjoining room and grabbed a light globe. Did he always dream in nightmares in his palace? She placed the ornate globe next to the bed and gazed at his face with a frown. His eyes were wide open but that didn’t necessarily mean he was awake, and she saw fear in their depths, as if he struggled against some evil thing.

  “Korl, are you awake? What’s wrong?”

  His broad chest heaved as if he ran a race. His eyes wouldn’t blink and Mahri felt a small trickle of fear blossom in her chest.

  “Wake up!” she commanded.

  “Not… asleep.” Korl panted. “S’raya… stupid.”

  Mahri frowned. What did that mean? Then she remembered their conversation during that strenuous dance, when he’d said that S’raya was unscrupulous, but not stupid. Stupid enough to attack him with Power in the guarded Palace Tree? Is that what he means?

  “Jaja,” she called, hoping her pet hadn’t eaten his way into a complete stupor. But he already stood at her shoulder, those huge brown eyes watching Korl with concern. “Zabba—I need root. Did you sniff out any earlier?”

  He looked from her to Korl.

  “I think he’s being attacked with Power, Jaja. He needs root!”

  Her pet chattered and scampered down the bed, through a small archway into the bathing room. Mahri had already searched it, but Jaja stopped before a tall chest of carved bone and pointed at it. She opened it again, spilling shells of soap and baskets of herbs onto the floor, their sharp scent combining into an overpowering aroma.

  “Where?”

  Jaja climbed up the shelves like a ladder and tapped on the back of the chest. Mahri felt a small seam, and an even smaller hole where a key could be inserted. She ran back to the bed.

  Korl hadn’t moved, but the golden tan he’d acquired in the swamps had faded to white, so that the scars on his cheek stood out in relief. His breathing had slowed, but that didn’t reassure her, for it looked as if he struggled still—but weakly now.

  “Where’s the key, Korl? The key for the chest in the bathing room. You need Power.”

  “Yesss… no. Mas… R’in.”

  Mahri spun. “Jaja, fetch Master R’in. I don’t care how, but find him and bring him here.”

  Jaja chirruped and slipped out the balcony.

  “He won’t get here in time, Korl. Where’s the—” and she added some colorful descriptions, “key?”

  His chest heaved again. By-the-moons, thought Mahri, nothing can happen to him. Not now.

  “Pink,” he gasped, and lay still, as if that one word had taken all the strength he had, his chest now rising and falling painfully.

  Goosebumps prickled Mahri’s skin in the chill night air, the sound of falling rain a muted roar from the open balcony doors. Pink, she thought furiously. What could that mean? Was it the name of someone, the name of
some kind of filing system, the color of a pocket on one of his jackets?

  Color?

  And she remembered the pink table that Jaja loved, and sprinted into the other room, banging her shin against a chair and yelping a curse. She swept the feast from the table, fruits and shells of candies and cheese and cold fish crashing into a messy heap onto the floor.

  Mahri uncovered all the light globes and used her fingers to search the legs, top, and sides of that shiny table. Nothing. Not a seam or crack or anything to indicate a secret drawer. And she couldn’t think of anything else pink. She’d always hated that color, anyway. Looked horrible with red hair. By-the-moons, what could she do? How could she help him without zabba?

  Korl began to moan and call out senseless things. How did someone kill another with the Power, anyway? She’d never conceived of such a thing. One body organ would be all it took for someone with a Healer’s knowledge. S’raya wouldn’t know such things, but that Seer? Would he know how to deliver the longest, most agonizing sort of death?

  “Korl!” she screamed in frustration, and fear turned to rage.

  Where would that arrogant man put the key? What if he didn’t hide it? What if he—a typical male—had just laid it on the table? Mahri dove into the pile of food, searching through the muck, squeezing cheese through her fingers and flinging it away, picking apart fish filets and tossing them aside until her fingers felt the hard shape of a bone key.

  Mahri wiped it as she ran back into the bathing room, inserted it into the hole after several attempts, and grunted with relief when she heard a click. A panel sprang open. Her mouth gaped at the amount of zabba in that space, enough to supply her entire village for a year, before she snatched the nearest pouch of it and dashed back to the bed, stuffing zabba into her mouth and gagging at the bitter taste of it.

  Korl’s beautiful green eyes darted around the room in terror, his mouth slack and babbling meaningless phrases. Her own eyes sparked Power, the root rushing through her system, and she fed it to Korl through the pathways, feeling him eagerly draw it from her. His face showed reason for just a moment and he looked up into her own.

  “I know what… love is. It’s you Mahri. Simply… you.” And his eyes glazed, his next words meaningless drivel about monsters and murderers and horrors she couldn’t begin to imagine.

  Mahri clenched sheets in her fists. Hard. What were they doing to him? She could only guess that somehow they attacked his mind, not the body.

  She hadn’t even known it was possible to enter another’s mind unless there was a Bond, until it had happened to her with the overdose of root—and even then she only accessed the native life of Sea Forest. And they seemed to all possess an exclusively natural mental connection. Could someone acquire that ability another way? How could she possibly know?

  Mahri grabbed up a blanket from the bed and wrapped her naked body in its warmth. All she knew was that the only way to help Korl was to break down the mind-barrier and meld with him. Again, she’d be forced to an action that she’d only take to save another, and although she could refuse to do so, she knew she couldn’t watch Korl die and do nothing. How did she manage to get into these situations?

  She chewed as much zabba as her stomach would hold down, cracked her mind-barrier and reached into her pathways, following the sparkles of green light when it connected with his, until she reached the nub where the Power entered his own mind. She hesitated a breath, then followed, surrounded once more by his thoughts and memories, the essence of this man.

  Korl, she thought-whispered, trying to ignore the black shapes that darted through his mind. Focus on me. Link with me.

  Mahri? So weak, that call. It’s hard to stay with you, so much of my mind is gone. Get out while you can, before they twist you too.

  Who? she demanded. S’raya and that blackrobe?

  Yessss. So faint.

  Korl! Remember when you melded with me, when I Saw too deeply into the essence of matter? Our souls joined and we survived. Join again with me now and hold on to that part of you.

  No. Firm denial in that. Then if they destroy me, they take you too.

  You arrogant—just do it!

  No answer.

  Mahri raged with fear that she’d lost him, hoped beyond hope that he’d do what she’d told him to. A golden form took shape in her Sight, in the maelstrom of his mind, and began to float toward her. But two of the black shapes solidified, blocked his path, and Mahri knew one to be his sister.

  Korl said you were stupid, she mind-spat. If he dies you’re the first they’ll suspect and I’ll make sure to tell them what happened.

  Laughter; loud, long, and echoing, screeched through Korl’s mind.

  Think they’ll believe your word, you ignorant water-rat, over mine? S’raya’s mental voice sounded old and evil. Especially after that scene at your so-called joining. They know you hate Korl, that you kidnapped him and he forced you as lifemate. They’ll think you made him insane somehow through the Bond. Thank you, Wilding, for the opportunity—again—to destroy my brother.

  Mahri drew on the Power, not knowing how it would affect the body she’d left behind, only caring that she needed as much as possible to save Korl. She fisted a hand and looked down with astonishment. In his mind she shimmered as a ruby-red shape, and in her hand she held a fireball of green Power.

  She ignored the two solid black shapes and started hurling green balls at the other monstrous things that whirled around her. The Power flared when it hit one, and the shape vanished.

  Ha! thought Mahri.

  Stop her, screeched S’raya, and the black shape next to her own lifted a hand and green lightning flared and shot towards Mahri. When it hit her she reeled with the pain of it, but gathered more Power and flung it at the Seer.

  He flickered to ghostly black and his thought-words wavered. This Wilding has more tolerance for the Power than I’ve ever seen! No wonder he Bonded with her. Give it up, S’raya.

  And within the beat of a heart he left Korl’s mind.

  No! S’raya screamed and her black shape rushed at Mahri, hit a fireball straight on, and her cries died into nothing.

  So quickly, thought Mahri, had she defeated them. Yet, they could have just as easily snuffed out her during that timeless battle.

  Then all Mahri could See was green and she felt her own mind thud back into her body.

  Drained but thankfully not root-fried, she sank her head onto Korl’s chest. The warm, smooth skin of it rose and fell in an easy, steady pattern and she sighed with relief as she listened to the strong beat of his heart.

  Jaja chattered from the adjoining room and Mahri rose to her feet, clutching the blanket around her and trembling more from fatigue than the cold. She leaned against the archway and watched with hooded gaze as Master R’in surveyed the shambles of the room.

  “You did it again,” he said in disbelief as he gazed at the seaweed that dripped from tapestries and the fruit that splattered framed artwork and the shredded fish that littered silk cushions. “And to think I was curious to see what you’d do with Power.”

  Mahri’s eyes flashed sparks from the dregs of zabba still in her system. “I was looking for something.”

  The old man entered the room, skirting the worst of the mess, and motioned the guards at his back to stay at the door. “Did you find it?”

  “Aya.”

  “And my prince?”

  Mahri shrugged. “He’s still abed.”

  “Your pet dragged me from my own,” Master R’in replied with a frown, “as if the Royal couple were in need of my services. Am I correct?”

  She hadn’t the strength to answer, just turned and stumbled back to the bed and collapsed next to Korl. She felt the old man follow and use the Power to probe her, give a satisfied grunt then do the same to Korl. His gnarled hands paused over that head of pale hair.

  “Who dared?” he gasped.

  “His sister,” mumbled Mahri. “And that Seer. You’d best see to them, old man, for they’l
l be the ones needing your ‘services’ now, not my lifemate.”

  R’in gasped again. “You saved him?”

  Mahri felt familiar strong hands sift through her hair and looked up into Korl’s face. No madness there now, but a tenderness that made her shiver and forget even the presence of the old man.

  “Of course she did,” said Korl.

  He pulled her face to his using a fistful of dark red locks. His mouth captured her own, with a reverent inquiry that Mahri knew the meaning of. That he could want her again, so soon, and after what they’d just went through… perhaps even because of it. She groaned into his mouth and his hand fought beneath her blanket, hot fingers ripping up her back and down, lower, to her bottom…

  Master R’in cleared his throat. “Er, well, then if you don’t need me your Highness, perhaps I will check on your sister.”

  Mahri heard the words through a haze of arousal. Korl only needs to look at me, she thought, and no one and nothing else exists for me. And when he touches me, it’s even worse, the total domination of my senses.

  She whimpered and Korl growled.

  The old man picked up the ends of his robe and ran from the room, with quite an astonishing display of agility for one of his age.

  Chapter 17

  MAHRI KNEW SHE’D AGAIN HAD TOO MUCH ZABBA, FOR an overdose had brought her to this same place before. She walked along an enormous branch of the Mother Tree, the curls of mist parting to again reveal that door of strange carvings.

  As she entered into that cavernous room hollowed in the bark of the tree and that circle of light, she tried to remember how much root she’d chewed before she’d entered Korl’s mind. Surely not enough for an overdose. But had her body continued to ingest zabba while she’d fought that inner battle? Had it provided her with what her mind needed to survive, without thought of the ravages it would cause in her system?

  Mahri shrugged, making Jaja scramble for purchase on her shoulder. “Too many unanswered questions,” she muttered in disgust.