Alora: The Wander-Jewel (Alora 1)

Kaevin pulled his brows together in a mock frown. “I’ll have you know I’m as loyal as Bozeman. I haven’t left your side for a moment since I awoke with you sleeping in my arms. I kissed you for much of that time, although I must say it was less than satisfying.”

“Hmmm… I suppose that was quite loyal of you.” Alora tapped her finger against her lips. “But I rather doubt you’ll ever surpass Bozeman.”

“Alas, all my loyalty, wasted! How can I go on living if you love another?” Kaevin placed the back of his hand on his forehead in a dramatic flourish, and Alora couldn’t keep a straight face.

She laughed, throwing her head back, until she cried out in pain with a hand on her bandaged throat. “Ow! Ow!”

“Shhh! Keep your voice down, or someone may come.”

“I’m surprised the hospital let you stay in here alone with me.”

“I was attempting to explain to Dr. Sanders why it was necessary for me to kiss you until you awakened, and he simply waved his hands as if he didn’t want to hear any more. He put us in this room and ordered everyone to stay outside.” Kaevin shrugged. “He’s a very unusual man.”

“There’s no telling what they’re all thinking.”

“I don’t care. I’ll do whatever I must to keep you alive.”

“Because you’ll die if I die?” Alora swam into his deep green eyes, her heart swelling until it was exploding from her chest.

“No.” He brushed a tender kiss across her cheek. “Because I wouldn’t want to live if you died. Because I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

And their lips touched.

As Kaevin lifted his head away, gazing at her with hooded eyes, she grinned. “Quick, let’s kiss again while Uncle Charles isn’t here.”

He smiled as he dipped his mouth to hers.

“I adore the manner in which your mind works.”

Epilogue

Vindrake pondered his best strategy. He’d lost the initial opportunity to dispose of Alora, but he’d gained valuable information. Alora and Kaevin were soulmates. This made them stronger, but it also made them vulnerable. Neither could live if the other died. By necessity, they had to remain together. They had family members who were also susceptible to attack. And thanks to the weakness of their sentiments, Alora and Kaevin would place their lives at risk to protect their loved ones.

And now Vindrake knew her real name. He spat on the floor in disgust. She’d lied to him, providing a false name. But he also knew the name of the place where she’d been hiding. Montana. Raelene had revealed this place was probably in another realm, yet the entrance to that realm was likely within his own kingdom. He would find her, and he would kill her. No daughter of his would be allowed to make a fool of him, snubbing his generous offer to train her and to share his kingdom. Granted, he probably would’ve eliminated her after she’d served her usefulness. But she’d rejected him without awareness of that duplicity, scorning him and choosing, instead, Graely BarManasae and his offspring, Kaevin BarGraely.

He would search for her without ceasing until he located and exterminated her. His heart danced, thinking how that act would also devastate Graely, as his only son would die with her. With that devastation, Vindrake would gain the advantage he needed to defeat Stone Clan once and for all. Yes, he had gained much more than he’d lost. A few minor gifted warriors were easily replaced.

“I’ll need a new chief shaman,” Vindrake informed his guard, as he limped to his chair. He sat down gingerly, avoiding pressure where his flesh had been torn by that maddened beast. “Bring me Malphas!”

The young man jumped to obey, even as he chafed inwardly. His bond of fealty gave him no choice but to submit, no choice but to act to benefit Vindrake in every way. He hated the inner compulsion forcing his actions to follow Vindrake’s malevolent will. But death was his only possible escape, and the bond even prevented any voluntary effort to achieve that goal.

He was new to his post as guard, having won the dubious honor by his top victory in the training rings. The early matches pitted the strongest, most gifted warriors against the weakest, with the losers forfeiting their lives. Most often, Vindrake transformed the wounded youths into wendts rather than waste the bodily resources. Daegreth swallowed bile in his throat at the recollection of his fateful match against his best friend, Brivaene. At least his bond had not prevented him from ending his companion’s life to spare him from a worse fate as a mindless wendt. Though Brivaene could not ask for the killing blow, bound as he was by his own blood-fealty, Daegreth had read the plea in his eyes. And now, in the protective isolation of the cold night, he made no effort to hide the tears that fell in response to his vivid memory.

The chill wind bit into his skin as he strode across the cobblestones toward the building that housed the shamans. As was the custom for the top victors, he wore no covering of any kind above his pants other than a sword harness across his chest, despite temperatures barely above freezing. Vindrake enjoyed displaying the muscles, scars, and fresh cuts on his young guards’ bodies. His wounds were recent enough that blood still seeped out where the leather rubbed his severed skin.

Daegreth wondered whether he might have been happier if he’d been born in Water Clan. Taken when he had only ten years, Vindrake’s men had killed his father and captured his mother. But he still remembered the loving care and moral teachings of his parents. If he’d never learned the difference between good and evil before he was forced to accept the bloodbond, then perhaps the existence of the malevolent power in his mind wouldn’t be an ever-present cause of pain and nausea.

His life had been relatively pleasant after his apprehension until the age of twelve, when the compulsory warrior training began. He and his friend had learned how to communicate without coming i

nto conflict with their bloodbonds, forging a relationship as close as brothers. But early on, it became apparent Daegreth had been blessed—or cursed, depending on the point of view—with much greater strength and giftedness than Brivaene. Daegreth had pushed his friend to the point of exhaustion in the attempt to prepare him for the deadly trials. But Brivaene had adopted an attitude of acceptance, almost akin to relief, giving Daegreth his few worldly possessions before the start of the testing required for all warriors of eighteen years.

“The Master requires your presence,” Daegreth announced to Malphas as he entered the residence without requesting permission. He almost smiled at the palpable fear emanating from the startled shaman. Malphas must have known his own considerable power was no protection from Vindrake’s unpredictable wrath. It was satisfying to Daegreth when Vindrake’s maliciousness was unleashed on the vile and wicked rather than the innocent.

He escorted Malphas back to Vindrake’s residence carved into the rocky bluff. His mind wandered as the two conversed, most of the discourse consisting of Vindrake’s angry shouting and Malphas’ solicitous replies. But his ears perked when he heard the discussion of a possible attack on Stone Clan. He could volunteer for this duty, and in the course of battle he might find a way to end his bond to Vindrake. Perhaps his blood-fealty would not prevent him from attacking the strongest and deadliest of the Stone Clan warriors. Surely someone would be powerful enough to end his suffering. Hope bloomed in his chest, and he inhaled his first easy breath since before the start of the warrior trials. Laegenshire... Laegenshire would bring him peace at last.