The Rose of Shanhasson Read online

  Gregar scratched on the flap of Drendon’s tent, and Alea called out a welcome. “You very likely won’t believe my word alone. You already know how Alea feels. If she agrees with me, you will believe.” He winked at her over his shoulder as he ducked inside. “I hope.”

  Shannari had no choice but to follow him inside the tent. To face Alea’s dislike. To remember the appalling night lying in Rhaekhar’s arms, burning up with need but restraining herself, with sounds of lovemaking just feet away. The rustle of clothing and blankets. The Bloods’ eyes flashing all around them. And still, the desire blazing in her that demanded she seal her mouth over her barbarian’s and love him anyway.

  Civil yet reserved, Alea welcomed them both. Despite her drawn face and frown in Shannari’s direction, the other woman cracked the barest of smiles for the Blood. The joking, laughing Blood soon had her smiling wider, more relaxed. Everybody liked him, it seemed.

  “I hope you can assist me with a very important discussion for Shannari’s benefit.”

  Alea shot a hard look in her direction but inclined her head. “What do you need?”

  Gregar turned his attention to Shannari. “I need you to confirm what I’m about to tell her.”

  She couldn’t help but shiver. His eyes gleamed like bottomless pools at midnight with the full moon above, shining like a mirror.

  “You asked me if you dishonored Khul this past night. Why?”

  Alea actually started, sitting up straighter, her gaze narrowing.

  “Varne was gloating as if his dislike was at last proved. He told me I risked Khul’s position and his life.”

  “Do you remember the night at the oasis?” Gregar asked softly. His voice lowered, his eyes darkened. “Before your dream?”

  Hot embarrassment flooded her face. She knew what he meant. The night Rhaekhar worked so diligently to draw every horrid sound out of her as possible for the benefit of his warriors.

  “Do you understand why Khul made you cry out?”

  She shook her head. She couldn’t meet his gaze nor Alea’s. “Everybody heard.”

  “Exactly.”

  Shannari jerked her gaze up to his, surprised by the extreme satisfaction in his voice. He smiled, not his normal joking grin, but a cold, calculating smile of utter confidence and foresight. She remembered him challenging Rhaekhar to make her cry out not once but twice. “You did that on purpose?”

  “Of course. So did Khul. Do you think he would lose any challenge lightly, even to you? He is the mightiest warrior on the Plains. He has never lost a challenge.”

  She looked to Alea for confirmation. “Never?”

  “That’s true, Shannari. I’ve never seen Khul lose a kae’rahke, other than when he and Drendon fought in the Kae’Khul. Drendon bested him in the rahke portion, but it was very, very close. Khul beat him in the kae’don and so was declared the victor. Otherwise, he has never lost, not even a bet.”

  “He manipulated me.” Stunned, she played back that day. How reserved he’d been. How openly disappointed he was to lose. “He played me like a fiddle.”

  Gregar shared a confused glance with Alea but nodded. “I have no idea what a fiddle is, Shannari, but he knew exactly what he was about. Khul always does.”

  “He pretended a challenge loss, and then pushed it into an advantage. Something felt… off, but I had no idea.” She shook her head, quirking her mouth with admiration. “It was brilliant.”

  “He needed to break your hesitation to make love while others were close. He also needed to make sure his warriors understood how much he loved you before we arrived in Camp.”

  “And you? Why was twice so important?”

  Gregar grinned. “I wanted to hear your sweet voice break the night in pleasure as much as possible, and I knew Khul was more than capable.”

  Her face was so hot and tight she fanned herself. She couldn’t meet the Blood’s gaze. Alea snickered and then laughed out loud, harder, until she sagged against Gregar.

  All the dislike was gone from her face, Shannari noted, when she finally dared to look at them both. “You have to understand. In my culture, such a thing is very, very private. We have stone walls, thick doors.” She waved a hand at the flimsy tent walls. “We certainly don’t listen to other’s lovemaking.”

  “Ah, but here, Shannari, we take pride in our love for one another. Each time your voice breaks the night, Khul’s honor increases.”

  “Literally?”

  “Aye. That’s what the white kae’als signify. Each of the beads in Khul’s hair signifies his great honor. His kae’valda.”

  “I thought they were merely decorations.” She pictured Rhaekhar, his two braids heavy with beads and rings, strings of more beads braided into his hair. “Is his honor so very great?”

  “He carries more kae’valda than any warrior on the Plains,” Alea said proudly. “He’s Khul, and none can match him. Whether his kae’rahke skills, how he leads his warriors in a kae’don, his persuasion and compromise skills with the other khuls.”

  “Even in the blankets with his woman,” Gregar added. “He is Khul. We expect him to be the best. We expect your voice to keep us up late into the night, often, loud and frantic.”

  Embarrassment warred with horror in Shannari’s heart, and she buried her face in her hands. So hot, her face felt on fire. “You know how I feel about him.”

  “Aye,” Gregar replied. “I know. I know your fears. I know you believe you must leave him and return to your Green Lands. I know you believe you’ll kill him, or me, or anyone who nears you. I know you believe your heart is so wounded, so crippled, that you will never love again. I say it’s too late, Shannari. You already love him. You simply refuse to believe it.”

  How could she make them understand? “If I stay here, my homeland is doomed to Shadow and death. My people will die. If I stay here, your people will start to die. It’s inevitable. Eventually, no matter what Rhaekhar says, someone will try to kill me. It happens everywhere I go. I’ve killed someone in every country and province of the Green Lands. Are you going to let me kill?”

  “Nay.” Gregar tenderly cupped her chin and turned her gaze up to his. “I’m going to kill for you. I’m Blood. It’s my honor and duty to kill in your defense.”

  “I might kill him,” she whispered, tears burning her eyes. “You saw what happened. I stabbed you. It might happen again. If the dreams— ”

  “You won’t kill him. I swear it.”

  “You can’t— ”

  “I can,” Gregar interrupted firmly. His dark eyes gleamed like chips of black ice. “I am Blood. I am Death. If you dream of Shadow, I shall know. I shall put my body before Khul’s. You can stab me over and over and over, endlessly, as many times as you wish. Besides, why do you fear Khul’s death when you Healed me?”

  “Healed?” Her heart froze, stuttering in her chest. “I can’t Heal. I don’t have any magic.”

  Gregar lifted her hand and placed her palm on the fresh scar over his heart. “How else am I alive, Shannari? You punctured my heart with my own rahke. Of course you Healed me. You’ll do the same for Khul if I fail for some reason. But I shall not fail. I’m the Shadowed Blood and I shall stalk your dreams.”

  He leaned closer, deliberately trailing his hair over her arm. She sucked in her breath, tasting his scent of dark, rich caffe.

  “Stab me all you want. I love it. And you know what I’ll ask.”

  She swallowed and nodded. Despite her fears and misgivings, her mouth watered. His blood…

  “So.” Alea broke in, her voice hard and determined. “You made a mistake last night, Shannari. Understandable, I admit, but a mistake. Khul has lost face. What are you going to do to fix it?”

  Shannari tore her gaze away from the dangerous Blood so close and studied the other woman. Understanding flickered between them. Alea still didn’t like her, but Shannari could live with that. At least the other woman knew her actions hadn’t been deliberately malicious last night.

  “I’m going
to win him some white beads tonight.”

  * * * *

  “An outlander woman!” Tomai continued, shaking his head. “Khul, what were you thinking?”

  Rhaekhar ground his teeth but said nothing.

  “Obviously not thinking at all. With his head, at least.” Brenn laughed, slapping Rhaekhar on the back. “I admit, she is quite beautiful, Khul. In my Camp’s travels, we’ve heard all manner of strange tales about the Green Landers. If she is truly a princess of their land, you should send her back. The last time we had any dealings with the royal blood of that land, well, you remember how that ended.”

  Aye. Everyone in Camp made sure he remembered. Rhaekhar gave the other khul a hard smile. “I remember well. That disaster is why your Camp has not been First in generations.”

  Brenn flushed at the dishonor but could do nothing about the insult. He was a trader, not a warrior. The Khul during the time of Loss and Fire was khul of his Camp. Many accused that Khul of single handedly bringing the disaster down on the Sea of Grass in his arrogance. Now, his Camp claimed position through the goods they obtained, not their kae’don or rahke skills.

  “Shannari is na’lanna,” Rhaekhar repeated, his hard tone of voice broking no dispute. “She will be my Khul’lanna as soon as I can claim her.”

  “You must be mistaken,” Tomai retorted.

  “How can a warrior mistake such a gift from Vulkar?” Rhaekhar smiled wider, gripping the rahke on his hip until his hand hurt. “She is na’lanna. I shall fight for her. I shall bleed for her. I shall kill for her. If you don’t wish to see her as Khul’lanna, challenge me.”

  “Do you know how many warriors Tehark will send to do just that?” Tomai shook his head. “You open yourself up for fierce competition. Already, the Camps are whispering, jostling for position. Your Camp has lost face. You have lost face. All for an outlander woman. Is she worth your very life?”

  “Aye.”

  Shaking their heads, all the khuls left but Drendon. He opened his mouth, whether to agree with the others or not, Rhaekhar didn’t care. “Friends we may be, but I’ve heard enough disagreements for the day.”

  “Perhaps you would enjoy a kae’rahke this night. A little friendly blood and competition.”

  Now that was a true friend. Rhaekhar nodded his thanks. Everyone on the Plains knew that Drendon was the only warrior who ever bested him in a kae’rahke. A challenge from his friend would delay some of the other warriors who might not have the best memory of his skills. Assuming, of course, that he won.

  “Blood and competition, my two favorite things,” Gregar said, joining them.

  “Where have you been?” Varne glared at the other Blood. “Khul has need of his Blood at all times.”

  Rhaekhar knew, but wondered just the same. Shannari was up to something, but what, he did not know. Not exactly. Gregar had helped her in some way, though, for which he was truly grateful.

  Gregar shrugged. “Merely at Camp. Could you not handle Khul’s protection alone? He appears fine to me. Of course, there are seven other Blood standing here, too.”

  “I’m nearest Blood. Of course he’s fine! What would you care, though? You were too busy dallying with Khul’s woman!”

  “And Drendon’s woman.” Drendon gave the dark-haired Blood a shove, and Gregar laughed. “Alea is instructing Shannari on Camp life.”

  Drendon groaned. “I had best return to Camp with gifts, then. Many gifts.”

  Silently, Rhaekhar agreed. He knew the two women didn’t exactly get along. Perhaps some Sha’Kae al’Dan clothing would tempt Shannari. And he also needed to find one particular gift she would greatly appreciate, more than clothing he was sure. If anyone possessed it, Brenn’s Camp would.

  “Speaking of blood and competition, I would like to make a bet.” Gregar winked at Varne, arching an eyebrow at the nearest Blood’s frown. “Since Khul will participate in a kae’rahke this night against Drendon, I bet Shannari will taste Khul’s blood at the fire.”

  Drendon’s eyes lit up. “Khul, will she truly? Such an honor. Even if she’s shy in your blankets, sharing blood is a great honor. Many women would refuse such a display.”

  Varne shook his head. “Not before the entire Camp. She hates it.”

  Gregar laughed, shaking his head. “You have no understanding of Shannari. Is it a bet, then?”

  “Khul cannot persuade or trick her into it. She must taste his blood willingly.”

  “Aye.” Gregar shared a knowing smile with Rhaekhar. “He won’t even have to touch her. His blood alone will be enough temptation. Agreed?”

  Rhaekhar shook his head, smiling. He didn’t know what the Blood was up to. Aye, Shannari enjoyed his blood, but before all the people? When she felt such reluctance? When tasting his blood was enough to bring her pleasure? She couldn’t bear for others to hear her cries, let alone watch her quiver and shake in his arms.

  Varne looked from him to the Blood and back, his gaze narrowing.

  “If I lose, you may have my ivory rahke.”

  “Done,” Varne said. “She’ll never taste Khul’s blood in public.”

  “I say she will. She will indeed.”

  “And what do you require if she does?”

  Shadows thickened about Gregar, creeping across the ground toward the other Blood. Varne actually glanced up at the sky, searching for clouds across the sun. “The Blood leave Khul to privacy in his tent.”

  “Never! You would leave Khul unprotected, alone, with her?”

  Rhaekhar swore the shadows wrapped around Varne’s neck. Still, he hesitated to interfere. Gregar was trying to help Shannari in some way. As long as neither Blood drew his rahke…

  “Unless there is danger, the Blood will remain outside Khul’s tent. I shall know if Shadow touches her. Khul will know, too, and so then even you will sense her danger. If you have any forewarning of another threat, then we can protect inside as well. But while there is no danger, Shannari needs privacy.”

  “I’ll do nothing for her,” Varne retorted.

  “Not even for Khul’s honor?” Gregar asked softly, his voice echoing with menace. “You were so thoughtful to describe in full detail how she damaged Khul’s honor this past night. Surely you agree that she should be given the opportunity to repair her mistake?”

  Fury roared in Rhaekhar’s veins. He took a step toward his nearest Blood, hands clenched into fists. “You insulted her? Again?”

  “Nay, Khul.” Varne shook his head in frustration, “I merely spoke the truth.”

  “Then I speak the truth now.” Rhaekhar stepped closer and deliberately dropped his hand to his rahke. “I tolerate no one insulting her, not even you.”

  “Truth is not insult,” Varne replied flatly. He did not touch his rahke, and Rhaekhar knew where his honor lay. Varne was wholly Blood, the nearest, the last defense. He would never risk his position or honor by challenging Khul.

  “Gregar and I shall instruct her in our ways. We have no need of your assistance in this matter.”

  “Very well,” Varne said, inclining his head stiffly. “As you will.”

  Rhaekhar sighed. So far, he had alienated the few khuls supporting him, given his enemies a valid argument to vocally and physically use against him, and angered the nearest Blood who protected his life. All for a woman who openly professed she would never love him.

  All it took was a moment’s concentration through the bond, a touch against her mind, a whisper of her desire, her courage, her fears, and he knew he would risk all for her, time and again. Na’lanna.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Alea asked doubtfully. “You don’t look very… comfortable.”

  Shannari tugged at the impossibly short cloth about her hips and fought to tone down the raging heat in her face. She likely glowed as fiercely as the bonfire ahead. A sultry summer breeze whipped up the back of the cloth and sent her meager gown fluttering wildly. Hold the vest shut or push down the thing Alea called a memshai?


  Gritting her teeth, she stopped, closed her eyes, and concentrated on finding herself. Finding her courage. Yes, her underthings usually covered up more than this outfit. Yes, she felt extremely vulnerable with her hair loose down her back and no armor. But she still wore a sword on her hip and every warrior in Camp was armed. Rhaekhar and his Blood— at least Gregar— swore no harm would come to her here.

  For the first time in her life, she was trying to trust someone else to protect her.

  It certainly didn’t come easily.

  The familiar Lake spread through her mind. Cool, crystal waters, mirrored surface, peace. Just as she would concentrate before battle, she pushed all her fears and doubts into those smooth waters. The image calmed her turbulent thoughts. Centered and focused, she raised her chin, opened her eyes, and dropped her hands.

  “I’m fine. Let’s go— we’re late.”

  Alea led the way to her usual spot at the fire with her mate. The men waited for them, laughing and talking loudly, surrounded by Blood and other trusted friends.

  Seated before the bonfire beside Drendon, Rhaekhar turned his head and froze. His eyes turned molten gold, flaming immediately at the sight of her. He didn’t rise, didn’t move, just stared at her, his muscles coiling, prepared to strike.

  The other warriors fell silent, some looking at her, some— Gregar— laughing softly at Khul’s whole-hearted stare. She concentrated on Rhaekhar, ignoring the others. The heat in his eyes, the flaring need she felt through the bond, all of it was worth the embarrassment she felt at wearing such brazen attire.

  As soon as she came within arm’s length, he drew her down toward him. Only her own persistence put her beside him instead of in his lap. He drew her close, pressing his mouth to ear.

  “You torture me, woman. After last night, I am hard enough to nigh rip this loincloth in half.”

  His heat engulfed her, all baking bread scent and warrior brawn. She laughed breathlessly and tried to pull back for a little space. “You like?”

  “Three Hells, aye, I like.” He trailed his fingers down her jaw, her neck, to the gaping front of the vest that did its best to bare as much of her breasts as possible. “Seeing you in our clothing makes me yearn to claim you now so I may wrap you in my kae’valda.”