Blood Warrior

his mind. Curious, then angered. Repeatedly they’d warned her of a coming danger. She’d reached out with her own gift—and sensed nothing. He’d been reluctant to depend on her telepathic blind spot, but recognizing it had been the genesis of his plan.

There behind the altar, he slowly released her neck. There was no explanation for why he trailed the soft, fine strands of her hair down over one shoulder.

She shivered.

No, there was an explanation. He’d been seduced by this woman for twenty years. That he’d want to admire her, to touch her—

He cut off his thought as surely as he would’ve cut her out of his mind, had he been able.

While he’d waited for her to finish her infuriating speech about peace and hope, Tallis had witnessed a living lie—a slippery eel pretending to be Everywoman. Now he had her attention. The disguise she drew from the impressions of a hundred minds began to slip.

Or simply . . . change. He couldn’t tell.

A man who lived rough in the world learned to trust his instincts, yet his had been corrupted by the Sun’s voice in his sleeping mind. She bled into every aspect of his life, like placing a magnet next to a compass. His true north was long gone.

For a Pendray that was especially infuriating. As creatures of the elements, his clan had inspired a pantheon of deities among hearty Celts, Picts, Norse, and Saxons. To remain so uncertain of the natural world would be even worse than losing his berserker rage.

This woman deceived everyone who looked upon her face. Who could trust her words if she presented whatever facade a person wanted to see?

“I’ll go with you,” she said at last. “Peacefully.”

“Good.”

He slid his fingers down her golden sari and clasped her hand, then mocked her with a smile. “We’re just taking a walk.”

“Where?”

“My tent.”

She jerked her arm, but Tallis wouldn’t let go. “You’re sick. No one . . . No one—”

“Takes you to his tent? I’m not surprised. You play in dreamscapes instead.” He adjusted his hold so that their bodies pressed side to side. “Come.”

Tallis dragged her through the stone archway that led away from the rear of the altar. They emerged into plain sight. Several dozen followers stood nearby.

“They may wonder why you’re walking so close to a Pendray,” he said near her ear. “But they trust you. Everyone you’ve touched with that witch’s mind has come to trust you. So keep walking.”

He tightened his hold on the low curve of her hip. She flinched and tried to draw away. “Let me go. I’ve come willingly this far.”

Tallis ignored her entreaty. Too much bitterness needed to be purged from his blood. “I wonder how many wish they could hold you this closely. Do you lie awake counting the minds you’ve warped? Enjoy becoming their fantasy?”

“I’ve never done anything of the kind,” she hissed. “I am a peaceful woman. I keep my thoughts to myself.”

“Being one of the Heartless must be useful when you use people the way you do.”

“Clan-based hatred is revolting. Don’t tell me you subscribe to those old prejudices.”

“I subscribe to bare facts. A deceiving witch leading gullible worshipers is a threat to every Dragon King.”

The sun—the real sun—was arcing westward. The valley would be dark long before nightfall. The steep angles of the Pir Panjal determined when the rays no longer reached the earth. Tallis strained every sense, trustworthy or not, and steadily guided his captive to his tent.

Then he shoved her between parted canvas folds. She fell to her knees as he pushed in behind her. “Much better, goddess.”

“Kavya.”

“Fine. Hold still, Kavya.”

She gasped as he searched for weapons concealed within layers of gold silk. Wiggling away from each touch, she was wide-eyed and edgy. She jerked as if his hands were hot irons. Tallis grabbed a rope from his knapsack and bound her wrists and ankles. She struggled against the hemp, but every movement tightened the sharp grip.

He rolled her onto her side. “Being helpless at the will of a more powerful force is a scary thing. I never liked it. You?”

Kavya looked away and blinked a sheen of moisture from her eyes. “You could at least tell me what you want! I can help you. Obviously you don’t want to be here.”

“We’re staying put,” he said. “Days will come and go. Your followers will know what I’ve learned—that you’ve deceived them. Wasted their hopes.” He traced a finger along her cheek, down to where blood had dried on her neck. “You’ll witness one disappointed face at a time, until no one will ever again worship a woman named the Sun.”

He retreated a few feet and crossed his legs. Kavya had stopped moving after her initial struggle. Self- preservation? Scheming? Probably both. A woman didn’t rise up from dirt-strewn slums to command an army without possessing canny skills.

The Sun was no idiot.

She wasn’t the goddess of his dreams. Neither was she the plain, almost anonymous orator.

Instead she was able to gather ready-made inspiration straight from her followers’ minds. En masse. How did she do that? What if she had the power to affect other Dragon Kings the way she’d manipulated him? Her influence could be catastrophic. Not even the Honorable Giva, the leader of the Five Clans, could compete with such a rival.

No Indranan should have that much power. No one should.

So he stared. And she did. As the hours passed, they played poker with their gazes.

“You might as well sleep.” His voice was rough, especially since his last words to her had been filled with such bile. He was going to hate her for a very long time. “You would have rested before your announcement.”

Light blazed in her brown eyes, as if mountains could glow. “No, I would’ve been walking among my people, making sure the agreement I’ve helped broker remains secure. You have no idea what’s at stake today.”

“You’re probably right,” he said flippantly.

She pushed her feet against the hard ground, found purchase, and struggled to sit up. The hemp rope creaked. The effort to appear strong for pride’s sake must have cost her body. Kneeling on her heels, with her hair a mess around her heart-shaped face, she raised her chin. Tallis was perturbed by his unconscious reaction, because that subtle movement chastened him without a word.

Why did he keep underestimating her? Maybe he remained susceptible to her ways—not to her telepathy, but to her natural charisma. He couldn’t find a strong line between the two, which was disturbing as hell.

“You are a bigot and a troublemaker,” she said with a voice made of bells and iron. “Some petty slight has brought this injustice on me. You’re going to ruin everything.”

Her expression hardened. Nothing overt. Eyes that had been passive took on a cold distance. Her mouth was shaped by voluptuous lips that pressed into a fixed line. Her hair was noticeably longer now—dark, with caramel streaks that highlighted its thick richness. Even her cheekbones seemed higher and more exotic. The anonymous image she’d presented on the altar was completely gone. Tallis’s memory of it lingered like having looked at the sun before closing his eyes, still seeing the image behind his eyelids.

“Your slights have not been petty,” he grated out.

“How do you know I haven’t been contacting my people for the last few hours, telling them to lie in wait for you?”

“I’ll take that chance. I’ve been taking it.” He grinned, which actually made her flinch. The Pendray weren’t very guarded with their expressions, and he’d lived in the human world for years. He liked the freedom of making his feelings known without language. That also meant being able to surprise Dragon