Текст книги "Touch of the Demon"

Автор книги: Diana Rowland

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 28 (всего у книги 31 страниц)

Chapter 40

I came fully and suddenly awake, as if a switch had been thrown, then lay perfectly still, listening and cautiously sensing with othersight as I tried to figure out what had roused me so thoroughly. A light breeze drifted through the open balcony doors, bringing with it the scent of the sea and of the demon-realm equivalent of pines. Far in the distance some sort of night creature called and received an answering cry. It was still full night, but the moon was higher in the sky than when I drifted off. I’d been asleep for a few hours at least.

But nothing seemed amiss. None of the wards had been tripped. No intruder or danger, as far as I could tell. Mzatal wasn’t in the bedroom or bath chamber, and I didn’t sense his presence in the main room. I looked to the balcony, but I didn’t see him in his usual spot by the railing either. Most likely he was with Gestamar, or in the summoning chamber, in final preparations for the morning.

The grove shimmered in the distance, casting a scintillating aura of green, purple and gold unlike anything I’d ever seen from it before. I pulled the sheet from the bed and wrapped it around me as I moved out to the balcony. When I reached the rail, I tucked the sheet a little more securely, then spread my hands on the cool stone. The starry sky glittered in a cloudless expanse above, and the moon drifted high, half full. I gazed across at the curiously activated grove and carefully extended, touching the semi-sentience, gently exploring its ancient power and beauty. It responded in kind, extending questing tendrils. Still and silent on the balcony, I communed with the grove, pulled power and let it flicker over my skin in green and gold iridescence.

My understanding of it grew, as did my grasp of how to best use its potency, and, most importantly, how to control it. It wasn’t “mother nature” or “Earth power” or anything like that, but more like a strange, alien power source that had been nurtured and shaped by beings long gone from this world.

And how long will I be gone from my own world?I allowed the feelings to rise of how homesick I was, how desperately I missed my aunt and all my friends. I swallowed against the lump in my throat and felt the grove respond like a song in my essence. “I miss them,” I whispered. Its potency swirled around me whispering back. Though I couldn’t translate what it said, I knew what it meant for me to do. Inhaling deeply, I gathered more power, enough to coalesce into a radiant orb before me.

I want them to know I’m safe.

Lifting my arms, I pulled the power into a tight coil, breathed my wish into it, then released it and watched it disperse across the balcony and to the grove and beyond in a transparent shimmering wave. Slowly the grove subsided to its usual softly glowing quiescence, though I still vibrated with the energy.

After several minutes the power settled to a gentle and peaceful resonance, and I shivered in the faint chill of the night breeze, unnoticed while I’d communed with the grove. Smiling, I turned and headed back inside.

Three steps in I stopped dead in my tracks.

Mzatal stood at the end of the bed, radiating potency, and without a trace of the earlier weariness. He wore only his robe: sumptuous deep red silk with sleeves and hem adorned in intricate silver stitching. His thick braid hung over his right shoulder, and, as I stared, he deftly unwound the silver cord that bound it. His eyes stayed on me as he dropped the cord and ran his fingers though the bottom half of the complex braid, separating the shining black strands.

My pulse made a weird double-beat. I’d never everseen his hair unbraided.

“You are exquisite,” he murmured, gaze devouring me as he slid his fingers through the twists of hair, freeing more of the thick fall until it hung loose below his shoulder. I took a slow step toward him, heart pounding at the effect those three words had on me.

Mzatal lowered his head, eyes intense as he lifted his arms and reached back to unweave the last of the braid. His robe parted as he did so, and…yeah. He ran his fingers through his hair, then shook it out over his shoulders, gaze never leaving me.

“Exquisite,” he murmured again, and I damn near forgot to breathe. Unbound, his hair hung past his ass in a perfect, rippling fall straight out of a shampoo commercial. Holy shit, but he was gorgeous. Not beautiful like Rhyzkahl, but hot and male and…wow.

I let the sheet fall to the floor. It was a totally cliché move, but, yep, had to be done.

Mzatal smoothly shrugged off the robe and dropped it onto the chair beside him. The air between us crackled with the potency he held and the grove power that still hummed within me. His eyes traveled over my body as I slowly moved toward him, every inch of my skin tingling in acknowledgement of his gaze.

He closed the distance between us, cradled my face in his hands the same way he had when he’d kissed me to place the recall implant. The tip of his erection brushed my belly as he murmured something in demon.

“Goddamnit,” I said in a rough voice. “Kiss me already.”

Smiling, he did so, gently at first, then with more intensity. There was nothing pure or weird about this kiss, and that was damn fine with me. His hair fell over us as he held my head with one hand and slid the other to the small of my back. He pulled me close against him, erection hard between us as he near growled into the kiss. I knew I didn’t need to ask him not to get me pregnant. Not only did I know in my essence that he would not without my permission, but I had my own means now, my own power to make certain of such things.

Groaning low, I skimmed my hands over his hips and back to cup his ass. His glutes tightened deliciously in my grasp as he rocked against me. His hand tangled in my hair, holding my mouth to his in an uncompromising assault on my senses. I welcomed it eagerly, moaning with pleasure.

His other hand moved to cup my breast, caught my nipple between thumb and forefinger and lightly squeezed. My breath quickened, and a low whimper escaped my throat. My hands stroked up his back, heat rising in my belly at the play of muscle beneath his skin. I reached higher and fisted my hands in that glorious mane.

Mzatal broke the kiss, breath shuddering as he throbbed between us. I smiled and raised an eyebrow. The big bad scary mofo demonic lord liked having his hair pulled? I tightened my grip and he groaned in response. I chuckled low in my throat, ridiculously pleased that I’d discovered something that could fire him. Despite all the time I’d spent with Rhyzkahl, I couldn’t name a single thing that I knew turned him on or fired a deeper reaction. He’d always been in perfect control, never revealing himself. That Mzatal would open himself to me like this touched me deeply. Desire lit his eyes as they met mine, and he smiled, acknowledging.

In the next heartbeat he lifted me as if I’d never eaten a donut in my life, near shoving me onto the dresser, then dropped his head to my right breast. Heat flared through me as his teeth found my nipple, and I gasped in a breath. I’d found one of his buttons, but he sure as hell knew what mine were, too.

“Mzatal,” I groaned and wrapped my legs around him. He was thick and hard and more than ready, and holy shit I wanted him inside me. He continued to suck and bite my breasts, wringing a variety of incoherent noises from me. I clutched at his hair, grinding against him, my breath coming in ragged gasps. “Come on, damn it.”

He lifted from my breasts, gaze smoldering as he positioned against me. Passion, dangerous and heady, seethed behind his eyes. Both hands slid down to grip my ass, yet maddeningly he still didn’t pull me onto him. Instead, he bent his forehead to mine, went perfectly still for what felt like forever though it was probably only a second or two. The physical retreated, and we entwined in utterly silent dreamlike spaciousness, the whole universe too small to contain us. Timeless. Transparent. He lifted his head from me, and the glorious sensations rushed in again, intensity and awareness impossibly heightened.

In a swift motion, he pressed in hard to full depth and held me there while I whimpered, nearly overwhelmed by the sensations and need.

A smile curved his mouth, and his hands tightened on my ass as he began to thrust, pulling me onto him with each deep stroke. I locked my legs around him, urging him on. His potency resonated deep within me, echoing with elusive familiarity. Instinctively, I touched the grove, pulled that power to meld with his, then sucked in a sharp breath as everything about him leaped in response. Our potencies merged in exquisite perfection, like the tone that sounded when a ritual came into alignment, but more. Every sensation, every movement, every mental touch snapped into breathtaking clarity.

Mzatal tangled a hand in my hair, pulled my head back to nuzzle my neck as he murmured something in demon. The meaning of it wound through me as he began to thrust with greater urgency. I have missed you. And I did not know anything was missing.

Yeah, I had what he was missing. And he sure as hell had what I wanted. Yet even as I thought it, I knew there was so much more to it than this moment of physical pleasure, and that knowledge spiked it all even higher. I made a low guttural noise as I wrapped my hands hard in his hair. His breath hissed as I pulled, and he thrust harder, which was pretty much the reaction I was hoping for. “Yes,” I gasped. “More.”

He was happy to oblige, grip uncompromising as he drove into me, deep cries accompanying each thrust. The scent and sound of him wound through my senses, and the feel of his skin was like a thousand points of familiar pressure. A coil of heat writhed in my belly, fired by the combined potency and his ardent attention.

He spoke in demon again as he shuddered against me, driving deep. Come home to me, beloved. Come home.

“Fuck…oh, hell yeah,” I gasped. Not as poetic, but it got the point across. It only took another few seconds before I tightened my legs spasmodically, crying out as I clenched around him. Waves of shuddering pleasure expanded into limitless space, rebounding and shaking me again and again. A deep cry ripped from his throat as I climaxed, and in three more thrusts he released as well, throbbing deep within me as we mingled, merged and complete.

My breath came in uneven gasps as he slowed. My hands clenched and unclenched in his hair. I pulled him close, then nuzzled the crook of his neck as our combined potency thrummed between and through us.

Still within me, he shifted his grasp, slid his hands up my back to hold me close.

“ Zharkat,” he murmured as he nuzzled my neck. A nameless thrill went through me. Beloved.

Straightening, Mzatal lifted me from the edge of the dresser, then held me firm in his arms, keeping me deliciously impaled upon him as he moved to the bed. I kept my legs tight around him as he lowered me to the soft quilt. He looked down at me with a smile that lit his entire face and kissed my forehead, eyes and cheeks, before lowering his head to nuzzle my neck. Already he was hard within me again, and I made a pleased sound in the back of my throat as I arched into him. There was a lot to like about the stamina and quick recovery time of demonic lords, and Mzatal had no problem demonstrating exactly how easily he could bring me right back up to the peak. His hands and mouth and cock worked me into a gasping frenzy that had me begging for yet another release. With merged potencies and deep passion, we carried each other to new realms. In the end, we collapsed together in a glorious tangle of limbs and hair, spent and shuddering and smiling.

At long last I caught my breath and regained the ability to speak. I grinned over at him where he lay propped up on one elbow beside me. “Thanks, Boss.”

Mzatal laughed, stroked fingers down my cheek. “I am forever dubbed thus.”

“Yep, you’re stuck with it!” I said, then gave a languid sigh as my body hummed delightfully with pleasure and potency.

He shifted and swept all his hair over his shoulder. I eagerly reached out to slide my fingers through the silky mass. “There is time yet for sleep,” he murmured with a smile, skimming a hand over my breasts and down my belly.

My loins tightened at his touch. I could get used to this merged-potency-multiple-orgasm-thing. “I’m not sleepy at all,” I said with a sly grin.

He raised an eyebrow, then his face mirrored mine in a smile. “Wrap your hands in my hair again, and I will do…bad things…to you.”

I gathered a handful of hair, tugged. “How bad are we talking?” I asked. I tugged again, harder.

He closed his eyes briefly, muttered a sentence in demon that meant something along the lines of holy fucking shit it feels good when you do that. His reaction sent my pulse racing and heat rushing to my naughty bits.

“Bad,” Mzatal murmured. “Very verybad.” He shifted between my legs and pushed my thighs apart, lowered his head to me. I groaned and wound my hands in his hair, kept my grip firm as he did bad things that made me cry out and scream and clench in very good ways. Once I recovered, I proceeded to do bad things to him, which he seemed to find just as good.

Eventually we lay limp against each other, spent and sated. He wrapped his arms around me, held me close until our breathing slowed, then turned me to my right side and shifted to lie behind me. He dropped his left arm over me, reminiscent of how he held me during the confrontation with Rhyzkahl, pulled me back against him and snuggled his head over mine. “ Zharkat,” he murmured.

I smiled, content. “ Boss.”

He laughed—a free, beautiful sound—and held me close as we both slipped into sleep.

Chapter 41

I opened my eyes to sunlight and the distant song of unknown creatures greeting the morning. Above me the stars of the domed ceiling still twinkled. Languor and deep peace drifted through me, and I smiled as I felt an arm draped across my hips and a black curtain of hair spread over my breasts.

He stayed, I thought in delighted wonder. He stayed and slept with me.I shifted very carefully to face him. Mzatal had dozed in the chair less than a week ago, so I knew he’d chosento sleep with me. Rhyzkahl had never made that choice, even when I asked him to. As I looked upon the sleeping lord, I realized I’d never doubted that he would.

And he was, indeed, asleep. I reached and stroked his hair back from his face, wanting to see how he looked in repose.

Beautiful.He breathed deeply and evenly, face relaxed and carrying none of the controlled mask that he usually wore, whether smiling-controlled, or scary-mofo-controlled. For the first time I felt as if I had a glimpse of the true Mzatal, and I reveled in it.

I coiled a lock of hair around my finger while I reflected on, well, everything. I cared for Mzatal quite deeply, yet I knew this wasn’t any sort of “romantic” love. It was far more than that. I didn’t have words to explain it, and didn’t feel any need to do so. It just was. Even if we never slept together again, we’d always have this amazing shared closeness.

A smile twitched across my mouth. Though it wouldn’t be at all bad to do it again. Maybe some post-ritual celebration?

Mzatal drew a deep breath and stirred, a smile playing on his lips as he muttered something. I stroked his hair, and a moment later he stirred again, opened his eyes and looked into mine. He lifted his hand and set it against my cheek.

“Zharkat.”

I smiled. “Hi.”

His hand slipped to the back of my neck, and he brought me close for a kiss that did a lovely job of waking me up fully. He pulled back, smiling a smile that reached all the way to his eyes and shone out. “There are no words adequate,” he murmured.

I let a lock of his hair slide through my fingers. “I’m not even going to try,” I said with a chuckle. “And today we retrieve the blade.”

Mzatal slid his hand over my shoulder and down to my hip. “Yes, we do,” he said, still smiling. “And with Vsuhl, forestall much.”

“We will kick all the ass,” I said, deeply enjoying how at ease I felt with him.

Laughing, he wrapped me in his arms and rolled, pulling me atop him. “Is that what we will do, zharkat?” he asked. “Kick all the ass?”

I grinned, utterly delighted at the sound of his laugh. “Damn straight. We are badass, and all should fear us.” I lowered my head and nestled it into the crook of his neck. Despite my brave words there was a hell of a lot to be nervous about. And I was. I exhaled softly. “I could stay like this all day.”

Mzatal wrapped his arms around me. “And I as well,” he said. “Were it any other day, I would not leave these chambers.”

I shifted to nuzzle his neck. “After this is done, we must research how to conduct rituals from bed.”

He laughed. “What do you think I have been contemplating this morning?”

“You do know I sometimes set things on fire?”

“I have faith that your skills have improved since that incident,” he replied, giving me a squeeze.

Grinning, I sat up, still straddling him as I sketched a quick series of sigils, surprising myself with how easily and fluidly I could do so. “This could totally work!” I laughed and wiggled upon him, then dispelled the series.

I felt him harden—more of that demonic lord quick recovery and response at work. His hands went to my hips, and then he lifted me with ridiculous ease and slid within me. I let out a low groan and began to move against him.

“Trace again,” he said, smiling in enigmatic innocence.

I chuckled low in my throat, then did so while he did his utmost to break my concentration. After that he found new and interesting ways to distract me as I traced the next series, and the next. At long last I found myself—somehow—upon the table in the main room, the final series of the upcoming ritual drifting in luminescent perfection above me, and my body humming with languid pleasure.

“I think I know the series pretty well now,” I said, grinning up at him.

Mzatal leaned down and kissed me. “You have mastered it, indeed.”

“Please tell me you don’t train Idris like this?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

He laughed, shook his head. “No, you have a unique advantage.” He pushed off me, then picked me up and carried me toward the bath chamber. “And now it is time to prepare, that you may kick all the ass in the coming ritual.”

After a bath that we somehow managed to finish without any more distractions, it was time to dress and get ready for departure.

My usual style of clothing for ritual fell into the comfortable, casual, easy-to-move-in category. Today’s wasn’t going to be much different, though I stayed away from anything silky and flowy. I wanted to be able to run and move and all that good stuff, but I also wanted to wear something durable enough that it wouldn’t get ripped right off me in a fight. That would probably be a littledistracting.

But since I had the style sense of a near-sighted hamster, I’d decided to throw caution to the wind and leave my wardrobe up to the zrila.

And wow, did they ever rise to the challenge: comfortable knee-high boots, black pants made out of durable denim-like material but a lot softer and a lot more flexible, and a really cool sleeveless wrap shirt with a black sash to belt it all in at the waist.

I preened in front of the mirror. “I look like a badass,” I announced.

Mzatal had the grace not to laugh at my posturing. “You are indeed glorious.”

I flashed him a grin. “A glorious badass.” Turning away from the mirror, I took a settling breath. “I guess I’m ready to go,” I said.

He took my hand. “The others await.”

My nerves rose again. I had the brief impulse to pounce on Mzatal and enjoy some stress relief, but I knew that was simply a delaying tactic. Okay, it would definitely relieve some stress, but I’d still have to go and do this thing no matter what.

He slid me a look as we walked, a hint of a smile twitching his mouth. “It would be a shame to dishevel the braiding Faruk made in your hair,” he murmured, telling me clearly that he’d read my impulse. His own hair was once again perfectly contained in a complex braid, its utter blackness beautiful against the grey and silver brocade of his tunic coat.

“I bet you could find a way to do it without messing up my hair,” I said slyly.

His hand briefly tightened on mine. “If I were to take you now,” he said, “your hair and clothing wouldbe quite disheveled.”

I laughed. “Tease.” But even the simple banter was enough to quell my nerves. Well, somewhat. This was still a huge thing we were about to do. And neither of us had any doubt that Rhyzkahl would make an appearance.

Our footsteps on the stone path seemed loud in the still morning air as we headed to the grove’s tree tunnel. The others were there waiting—Idris, Safar, Ilana, a big reyza I didn’t know, as well as two zhurn and two kehza I also didn’t know. Gestamar was still recovering, his absence palpable. Everyone was so damn quiet that I had the brief urge to shout, “Let’s do this thing!” but I decided it wasn’t the right moment. Still, I smiled at the thought.

Mzatal paced beside me, contemplative. “If you remain open to me during the ritual, it will be helpful,” he said. “After last night, I am certain there is much we can accomplish together that we cannot alone.”

I smiled. “I know we can.”

Idris glanced up from his papers as we approached. His eyes flicked to our joined hands and then back up to my face. He gave me a nervous smile, one that I knew would vanish as soon as he was involved in the patterning.

“Hey, Kara,” he said. “Big day.”

I exhaled. “Yeah, not sure I’ll ever be able to top this.”

Puzzled, he furrowed his brow as he looked from me to Mzatal, then back to me, expression deepening into a frown.

“Yes, you will need to make adjustments,” Mzatal told Idris. “The shift is likely permanent.”

Idris cleared his throat and nodded, perplexity seeming to deepen.

Mzatal and I entered the tree tunnel, and the others fell in a few paces behind us.

“What was that all about?” I asked.

Mzatal smiled and squeezed my hand. “You and I are…different, and he must make adjustments in the ritual and support parameters.”

A slow smile spread across my face as I explored the connection and merging of the two powers. Our energy signatures had changed, as if we’d exchanged a portion of our auras, bringing us into a beautiful flow of connection. “Yeah.” I grinned. “We’re better, stronger, faster.”

“With all going as planned,” Mzatal said, “we will bring a measure of stability that is sorely needed.”

“Nothing ever goes as planned,” I said with a grimace. I’d been on enough search warrants and other operations to know that all too well. “What’s our worst-case scenario, Boss? Rhyzkahl, right? Are we ready for that?”

“Worst-case scenario would be Rhyzkahl intervening and our failure to recover the blade,” Mzatal said, but then he shook his head. “No. Worse would be if he captured the blade once we had it.” He gave me a look filled with confidence and reassurance. “I am prepared for Rhyzkahl this time, and we are together.”

“We will kick all the ass,” I told him, grinning.

Mzatal smiled back, eyes unveiled and filled with unaffected peace. “And the best case scenario is that there will be no ass to kick, and we return with Vsuhl.” He stopped in the center of the grove, eyes traveling over everyone and everything, assessing and assuring that we had all we needed. He took my hand to prepare for the transfer, but then paused and gave me a questioning look.

“What is it?” I asked.

He pursed his lips in thought. “You lead. I will support for the group.”

I blinked. “Me? Are you sure?”

Giving my hand a light squeeze, he nodded. “It feels right.”

“Right,” I echoed, then took a deep breath, soaking in the comfort of the grove to calm the sudden rush of nerves. It was here for me, ready for me when I needed it. And now I had a stronger understanding of it—its strengths and limits, and how to engage and control the semi-sentience.

“Right,” I repeated with a firm nod. “I can do that.” Extending, I asked the grove to take us to Szerain’s palace, and within three heartbeats we were there.

I drew a deep breath, tasting the subtle difference in the air. After traveling with Helori, I knew that sharp edge, like a faint continuous flow of arcane electricity, was localized here and likely exuded from the cataclysm-born rift to the east.

Mzatal drew my arm up to link with his, tucked his free hand behind his back, and we headed out of the tree tunnel. To the north, the honey-blond stone of Szerain’s palace shimmered with golden iridescence beneath a bright, cloudless morning sky. When we left nearly two months ago, Mzatal had closed and warded the double doors to the arched passage that led to the interior and the main courtyard. Now they stood open, so I had to wonder who’d visited since. The paved path rose toward the arch and, halfway there, split into three: one continuing on, and the other two branching right and left to flank the east and west wings of the palace.

“Juntihr, seek interlopers and warding,” Mzatal said to the reyza I didn’t know, voice focused and intense. “Idris, you know what to do, but—” He paused, frowned. “Add an additional layer. Double the pattern.”

Juntihr snorted assent and leaped into the air with a bellow. Idris’s brow furrowed with a quizzical look as though considering the implications. A second later he gave a sharp nod, likely having analyzed the possibilities in the time it took me simply to register the statement. With total focus suffusing his face, as if slipping into a second skin that fit better than his own, he turned and loped off down the path toward the passage. The zhurn scuttled on in Idris’s wake and the kehza took flight, heading up and over the palace. Safar and Ilana paced us some distance behind.

Mzatal and I followed Idris in comfortable introspective silence, stopping only to close and ward the doors behind us. It wouldn’t stop Rhyzkahl, but it would delay him or encourage him to flank the palace. Either way, it bought a little time.

We exited the passage into the overgrown tangle of the courtyard proper. Nothing had changed, yet it felt as if every thing had changed. The raised circle of stone with its enigmatic eleven columns still stood among sorely neglected pathways and flower beds. The wings of the palace still angled off to the east and west. But me? I couldn’t even begin to quantify the changes in me since I’d last stood here. Blatant rape of naïve innocence tended to shake things up a bit.

Letting my cop-senses assess the area, I released Mzatal’s hand and headed toward the columned pavilion. I wasn’t the best tactician by any stretch, but it wasn’t tough to figure out that the pavilion was horribly indefensible except with the arcane.

Uneasy, I scanned the area, then looked back toward Mzatal. “Can you ask Safar to station himself on the tower there?” I asked, gesturing to a section of the palace above the arched passage that offered a good view of the grove on the other side. He nodded and turned to give the instructions while I continued on to the pavilion. Idris was already there, laying out the initial diagram. I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling, but doingsomething would help. I’d spent the last couple of weeks learning everything I needed to know about my part, and now it was show time.

“Watch out, dude,” I called out to Idris, “I’m coming in.”

He grinned and gave me a look of mock horror before slipping back into total focus. “Mzatal wants the patterns double-layered to amplify the resonance,” Idris said without a hitch in his flow of tracing. “That doesn’t change anything in the initial set-up, but when we start on the overlay, you’ll have to feel into it to get the two layers to mesh.”

I gave him a nod. “I can totally do that.” Creating the sigils by feel for the recovery of Gestamar last night had skyrocketed my confidence in my intuitive ability. I began to work the opposite side of the pattern from Idris, delighted at how smoothly the tracings flowed. All that practice with Mzatal this morning, I thought with amusement.

The main ritual pattern dominated the circle of stone, reaching almost to the columns themselves. With the double layer, it pulsed in multicolored beauty at about chest-level, quiescent sigils shifting subtly, primed and ready for ignition. Once we’d checked it over for continuity, Idris gave me a grin and thumbs up then moved out to his designated place about halfway between the pavilion and arched passage. I wasn’t keen on him being exposed like that, but it was the right place for the damn support diagram.

After a brief assessment, Idris traced a compact pattern and ignited it. With an impressive burst of heat that stirred my hair even twenty yards away, he seared a neat circle in the overgrowth, efficiently clearing the ground for his patterns. Damn, the dude had skill.

I still couldn’t shake the sense that I was forgetting or overlooking something. Nearby, Mzatal danced the overlays for the main ritual with such grace I couldn’t help but smile. I cast my gaze out, seeking the demons. Safar perched on the roof. Juntihr flew high above. One kehza stood atop the wall of the western tower, and the other flew circles above the ruined eastern tower. I didn’t see the zhurn or Ilana. Surely we have enough eyes, and I’ll feel it if Rhyzkahl comes through the grove,I reminded myself.

Before I knew it, the diagrams were prepared, and it was time to begin. Mzatal joined me in the center of the main diagram while Idris took up his position within the support structure. Smiling, Mzatal caught my face in his hands and kissed me, tender yet with a heat beneath it that whispered hints of what he’d done to me this morning. I relaxed into the pleasure and comfort of the kiss. I could trust him utterly. I knew this deep in my essence. Yes, we were lovers now, but we were still friends and partners, and that trust would never waver.

He gently broke the kiss and gave me a radiant smile. Releasing me, he turned and lifted his hand to trace the first sigil of his shikvihr, but before he could do so I took hold of his braid and gave it a not-very-gentle tug.