The Pages of the Mind (12 page)

Frowning in such a forbidding way that I flinched, Nakoa stopped, turned me around, and picked up my foot, inspecting it just as I'd seen Andi check horses' hooves countless times. Which did not do anything to defuse my earlier sense of being trained like one. His thumb passed over the burn and the tender skin of my foot, already sore from the unaccustomed friction of going barefoot on the increasingly rock-strewn path. In one smooth movement, he put my foot down and scooped me up in his arms—a dizzying sensation that stole both my breath and my equanimity—turning and showing me to Jepp, saying something as he did.

She didn't like it any more than I did, but she nodded curtly and spoke to me in a deliberately even tone. “You're no more vulnerable than you were and in some ways less so. You can more easily get a knife into his throat from there, if you need to. Better to save your feet anyway.”

In case we needed to run. I nodded back faintly and Nakoa, clearly considering the matter settled, set out again at an increased pace. At first I kept my arms folded, hugging them to myself, but I only felt more like helpless baggage that way. And I tended to slide down instead of looking forward. Tentatively at first, in case I earned one of those black frowns, I put a hand on Nakoa's bare chest, snatching my fingers away again at the astonishing sensation. He glanced down at me, amusement clearly etched in his face, and said something, adjusting his arms so I sat up higher. Testing my understanding, I slid a hand behind his neck, anchoring myself, and he responded by lifting me into a much better position. Now all I had to do was assimilate the unprecedented feeling of hot male skin under my hand, slick with exertion, his thick, curly hair brushing my hand, shoulder and neck muscles undulating as we climbed.

Unbidden, an image came to mind of experiencing this exact thing, only with us both naked in bed, and him rising over me to plow my body with his. I kept my face averted, gazing steadfastly forward so he wouldn't guess the direction of my thoughts. Not at all my normal sort of thinking. Whatever the king's agenda, it had nothing to do with that. Not with me. Not for a man of his power, surrounded by the tall, lethally beautiful women who guarded him.

Goddesses only knew what was happening to me.

We reached a clear area under the summit before much longer, the air ironically clearer than lower down. The heat, however, radiated up through the rock around us, making me profoundly grateful not to have my bare feet on it, no matter how discomfiting the alternative. Nakoa stopped at a ledge that looked over a dazzling horizon, ocean as far as the eye could see, the humps and dots of other islands visible in the distance.

And below us, a bubbling lake filled with lava.

Stricken, I clutched at my captor, though if he planned to toss me in, my feeble strength would be no match for his. Mastering myself, I dropped the hand I'd braced on his chest and found the small dagger I'd secreted in a hidden pocket of my skirt, ready to draw it.

I looked over his shoulder at Zynda and asked in Tala, “Do they mean to sacrifice me to the volcano?”

“I don't
think
so, but I don't know what they do mean to do.”

“Stop talking around me,” Jepp snapped. “What's going on here?”

“A ritual,” Zynda answered. “A powerful magical one.”

Nakoa's people began a slow, humming, hypnotic chant, the sense of portentous magic looming large over us. I couldn't help staring at the lake of lava, mesmerized by the possibility of my imminent death. From where we stood, Nakoa could simply drop me and I would fall with nothing to break it. Would it hurt or would I die instantly?

My chest hurt from holding my breath and a tear slid down my cheek. That or sweat from the menacing heat. Nakoa frowned at me and shook his head.

“He's too close to the edge,” Jepp whispered furiously to Zynda. “I can't get to him without risking losing her. But we have to stop this immediately.”

“I don't think we can. It's like an avalanche of magic, already crashing down too fast to halt.”

“Nonsense. A good blade stops anything. Pull your dagger, Dafne, and put it to his throat. Do it
now
!”

10

F
or once grateful for Jepp's relentless drilling and my unthinking obedience to her snapped orders, I moved before I thought about it. Faster than I'd ever thought I could, I had my blade out and pressed to the soft spot at the pulse point of Nakoa's throat. It looked ridiculously slim and delicate against his corded neck, but the glint of the words Ursula had inscribed there heartened me. I might be small and strengthless compared to this barbarian king, but I had fangs of my own that should never be ignored.

The chanting, however, did not slow, and Nakoa only dropped his black gaze to mine. He did have pupils, though so nearly matching the irises that I barely made out the delineation of them. Oddly, he smiled, ever so slightly, the tone of which I couldn't quite interpret, but with something of that same interest he showed in my journal. Holding my gaze, he slowly and deliberately leaned into the sharp edge. I lacked the fortitude of my warrior sisters, else I would have kept it in place instead of playing the coward and not resisting. If my hand had not been shaking so badly, the blade would not have bit at all.

As it was, I sliced him. Not deeply, but enough to draw bright blood that ran in a rivulet both along my little dagger and down his throat. Nakoa spoke a few words, a hiss behind them. His arms tightened and he gathered me closer, completely ignoring the blade.

And fastened his mouth on mine.

Stunned, I did nothing at first, unaware of anything except his startlingly hot and hard lips. This was not Zyr's artful, sensual kiss, nor my suitor's sloppy, indifferent promise. If Zyr's kiss had felt like a song not written for me, this one drilled to the very core of my being, filling my body and blood with a sense of homecoming, of feeding me some necessary food I'd lacked all my life. I drowned in it, overcome, forgetting the blade in my hand, my friends watching and worrying, the dire, strange circumstances in which we found ourselves.

I lost everything except my connection to Nakoa and the rumbling of the volcano around us. It thundered through me, stirring my heartbeat into a matching rhythm, as if my quiet, closeted heart had opened up and become part of a much greater, wilder one. Nakoa's mouth seemed to feed on mine, coaxing something from me, pulling me closer and deeper. I clung to him, no longer questioning any of it, viscerally desperate to meld my skin with his. His heartbeat pounded in time with mine, synchronized. Mine. His. And something else, even larger.

The realization struck me and I started to pull away, but Nakoa slid a hand to clasp the back of my head, holding me there, even as he let me slide down his body, gradually lowering my feet to the ground, the heart of the mountain taking me under deeper, thoroughly, the avalanche of magic searing my blood with unaccustomed heat.

My feet touched the burning rock and the volcano boomed, making Nakoa stagger and wrenching apart that endless kiss, though he caught his balance and kept me upright, pressed close.

Expecting lava to rain down on us, I threw back my head to see. If I was to die here, at least I'd witness one of the greatest events of nature for myself. For once I'd be in the middle of it all. The cloud of ash and steam billowed and swirled. Breathless, my body charged with a combination of dread, excitement, lust, anticipation, and terror, I focused on the smooth peak rising just above us. Soon lava, bright and molten like the lake below, like the blood boiling through my body, would spill over the mountain and carry us with it.

So unfair, that I would meet death moments after the most interesting thing that ever happened to me. That I would die a virgin. The perfect sacrifice.

Instead of regret, however, I felt mainly the exhilaration of imminent release.

Nakoa's heart still pounded with mine, a profound connection that linked us, that made me feel as if our bodies both circulated the liquid rock that surged up inside the volcano. It burgeoned, grew, swelling to explosive levels. The volcano itself seemed to draw in. Impossible that a mountain could move in such a way, but if rock could melt, then it could also—

Crumble.

Not an explosion, but a peeling back.

And out shot a dragon.

Glittering gold, it cut through the steam and ash, cleaving it like a knife separating flesh and leaving shreds behind. Moans of reverence and shouts of dismay followed in the dragon's wake as it speared straight up into the sky, a glittering, vertical comet trailing ash, magic, and awe. It nearly vanished, so high above us it became like a star. The shuddering of my heart, feeding blood to the ascent, went with it. Paused there at the apex.

Then the dragon returned. It grew to the size of a full moon, diving ever closer. I shrank against Nakoa, absurdly seeking shelter from the captor who brought me to this literal and figurative precipice.

With a snap that echoed in my bones, the great wings unfurled. Zynda cried out in protest, shouting something in Tala about shattering wings. But they held, the dreadful dive converting into a glide, a great sweeping circle of soundless grace.

I became aware of the still silence then. The rumbling of the volcano had ceased. Nothing more erupted from the peak, and the fall of ash thinned, diminishing with each moment, like the last gentle edge of a snowstorm, after the blizzard winds move on.

“What the fuck was that all about?” came Jepp's harsh whisper.

I struggled, suddenly acutely aware of being held against Nakoa's naked chest. With the magic releasing its hold, along with the keen peak of awareness imminent death had brought, all that remained was a grim sense of exposure. I wanted, needed, to hide away somewhere. Some of that black, remembered panic rose, and I fought the restraining arms as I hadn't before. Nakoa frowned at me as I struck him. I'd lost my dagger and had no wit to pull another, but he set me away from him, taking my wrists in each hand and speaking soft words that made no sense and didn't soothe. My feet burned.

“Let her go,” Jepp said, her words sharp as the edge of the blade she put between Nakoa and me. “Whatever this was, it's over and she needs you to release her. Now.”

Nakoa ignored her, studying me with that intent expression as I tugged away from his implacable grip. He asked me a question, the tone concerned, and I nearly screamed at him that I didn't understand his words or any of this, but my heart had fluttered up into my throat, my skin icy with sweat as cold as the rain that had dripped down the black rocks that had entombed me.

Lithe arms wrapped around me from behind, the scent of the vines of Annfwn with them, catching me when Nakoa released my wrists. Zynda leaned her cheek against mine from behind, cradling me against her as we both sank to the hard, heated rock.

“You're okay,” she murmured in her singsong tongue. “Relax, librarian. All is well.”

I flinched at the brush of her magic, like hot water hitting a sunburn, but then it took the rawness and sting away from my soul. My blood cooled, and rational thought—something I'd never expected to fail me—returned.

“I'm all right,” I told her.

“Yes, I can feel that, but give it a moment until we see how things lean.”

Jepp and Kral were arguing furiously, her Dasnarian full of sexual insults. Behind them, King Nakoa stood, arms folded, still as a carved statue, only his dark eyes glitteringly alive as he watched not them, but me. Above, the dragon circled, enormous wings extended as it rode the air currents like a golden-scaled eagle above the heights at Ordnung.

“Let me up—I need to translate.” Zynda hesitated and I pulled away. “Seriously, Jepp is making things worse with her malapropisms.”

She stood, with that supple strength she shared with Ursula, helping me up. My feet still burned on the hot rock, but I could ignore them for a while. The last thing I wanted was for Nakoa to pick me up again. Or touch me at all, given how completely he'd rattled me. Feeling more centered, more in my realm of expertise, I put my hands on Kral's and Jepp's shoulders, drawing their attention and stopping the barrage of epithets.

“Jepp,” I said to her in Common Tongue, “this battle falls to me. My weapons are better. Let me translate. What do you argue for?”

She speared me with a hot, angry look. “We need to get off this island immediately, but lunkhead here says the danger is over and we should give the king the lead.”

At least she possessed enough discretion still not to use Nakoa's name aloud. I translated for Kral, cleaning up Jepp's opinion considerably. He eyed Jepp as I spoke, jaw clenched.

“We can't flee for the boat,” he ground out. “It will be seen as a sign of weakness. King Nakoa already invited us to a welcome feast when we first arrived and I accepted. Given the scarcity of their supplies, it's an enormous offer and we'll give fatal insult if we renege now.”

“Even after he . . . all he did?” I amended, careful not to look at the man, though he'd caught his name, by the way he shifted in my peripheral vision.

Kral shifted his gaze to me, a tinge of regret there but still righteous in his conviction. “A kiss, no more,
nyrri
, and you are none the worse for the wear. From what I gather, this”—he waved a hand that encompassed me, Nakoa, and the circling dragon—“was an exceptional ceremony. An honor to you.”

“He accosted her,” Jepp inserted in terse Dasnarian, using the word that fell one shading shy of rape. It spoke volumes about the Dasnarian culture that they had so many words for varying levels of sexual consent. And about Jepp that she'd learned them well enough to choose the correct one.

“What he did,” Kral said directly to her through gritted teeth, “is take nothing that shouldn't be accorded to any foreign dignitary under normal circumstances, and even you must admit these are far from normal events.”

Jepp leaned in. “We of the Twelve Kingdoms do not offer up
any
of our citizens, male or female, as party favors to anyone at all.”

“But we're not in the Twelve Kingdoms!” Kral shouted.

“General Kral of Dasnaria and Imperial Prince of the Royal House of Konyngrr,” I snapped, his title cutting through his frustration as I'd hoped. “If we're to draw new borders, as the document you recently signed designates, then these islands
are
within the
Thirteen
Kingdoms, which makes me, as adopted sister to the High Queen, and as her envoy, the ranking decision maker here.”

I surprised even myself with that. Where had that come from? Both Kral and Jepp gazed at me in identical astonishment. King Nakoa moved then, snagging my eye. He gave me a nod, then spoke and gestured down the mountain.

“Fine,” Jepp said. “You rank. What's your call, Lady Mailloux?”

I ignored her sarcasm, figuring it justified and deserved. “Let's do the feast. Do what we came here for. Especially as it seems at least one danger has passed. No one seems concerned about the dragon. Let's get through tonight and put this place behind us in the morning.”

She accepted with ill grace, giving Nakoa a baleful glare, which seemed to amuse the man, if I read his expression correctly. I shifted, one burning foot to another, and he noted it, stepping forward with clear intent. I held up a hand to stop him. I couldn't bear to be so near him, even as part of me felt that our hearts still shared the same blood, along with the impossible monster winging above. I needed time to assimilate this. Surely there would be tales to inform me?

“You can't walk down the mountain barefoot,” Jepp said, considering my reddened feet. “Perhaps one of Kral's men?”

“I will carry you,” Zynda decided. “A demonstration that we are not helpless, should escape become necessary.”

“Thank you,” I told her with heartfelt gratitude. She shimmered beside me, that sense of nighttime magic, of the shadows, glints of moonlight and animal eyeshine washing over me. Like and yet not like the magic of whatever had happened with the releasing of the dragon. I watched Nakoa carefully, so I caught the flicker of surprise when Zynda became a gray mare beside me. No more than that from this controlled, savage man, however.

A murmur ran through his people, not shock so much as that sound of reverence. Of course, we'd just seen a dragon emerge from a volcano, so a woman shape-shifting into a horse might seem commonplace. Zynda knelt down to make it easier for me to climb on, which I did quickly to forestall any contradiction from Nakoa. He simply gestured down the mountain again, then took position beside me, walking close enough that his bare arm occasionally brushed my calf. I tried to pretend that the brief points of contact didn't send sparks through my blood.

As we descended, I lost sight of the dragon, though that newly opened sense in me still tracked its presence. Perhaps it had landed somewhere. The Nahanauns sang as we walked, an eerie, multilayered harmonic that seemed to speak of joy and triumph. Glimpses through the thickening foliage showed the vista clearing, the water gaining sparkle. Freed of the sulfurous stink, the air carried other scents—of flowers, the loamy soil, and cooking food. My stomach rumbled, reminding me how long it had been since I'd eaten—not since dawn, and now the sun declined to the horizon—and Nakoa, nearly at head height with me, glanced over at the sound and very nearly smiled. The language of the body, indeed. In that we managed to communicate. He patted my calf, a caress that slid down my leg, where his fingers lingered briefly, easily encircling my ankle.

I tore my gaze away, wishing fiercely that I dared put on my stockings again.

We could get through this feast. I could get us through this. If I'd managed to survive Uorsin all those years, I could find my way around this unpredictable king with his dagger-sharp eyes and lingering touches. Why he'd picked me of all people for his ritual that freed the dragon, I didn't know. I might never know, which—much as the possibility rankled—I'd trade for putting distance between me and this island. I'd done my part, so he should have no reason to prevent my departure.