Ah…a lie. “Did you lie to me just now princess?”
Her lips curved slightly. “I owe you no truths or loyalty, stranger.”
“I could take it from you, should I wish it,” Lachlan murmured, his intrigue multiplying.
Her chin lifted, and her hand tightened on her weapon, and those strange but beautiful eyes dared him to try. For some reason, her defiance made him want to smile. “You will keep this encounter between us, Princess.”
She arched an elegant brow. “The emperor will not be kind when he hears of your presence in his kingdom.”
“Precisely. Now if I believed you would reveal that I am here, I would be forced to silence you. Instead, we could be friends.”
A scowl settled on her face. “Is that so?” she demanded caustically, using her free hand to touch the spot where he’d nicked her skin.
“The enemy of my enemy?” he asked smoothly, sinking into that empty hollow place that would allow him to snap her neck without remorse. “Do I have reason to believe you will inform the emperor of my presence?”
He watched her carefully for signs of deception.
“I cannot reveal you if I am ignorant of your identity,” she said hoarsely, gripping the edge of her blade, appearing more frightened than manipulative.
“Then we have an understanding.” He dipped into the slightest bow, then moved toward the windows. Lachlan shoved them open and stepped through.
With a gasp she hurried over, her eyes wide with disbelief as she peered down into the courtyard more than fifty stories below them. She glanced up, her eyes frantically searching the darkness for him. He was right there, at one with the shadows and darkness.
“Who are you?” she whispered, no doubt thinking he had left.
The soft question seemed to brush directly against his cock, startling him. He didn’t have time for a liaison and hadn’t had time for almost two hundred years. How odd
this slip of female could even for a moment rouse his senses. Pushing her from his thoughts, he roiled with the darkness into the Emperor’s throne room, the place where he’d observed a few guards dragging the witch who had spilled from the enchanted dungeons with the princess. Hopefully, it was her who had crafted the spell, and if not, with persuasion, she would direct him to the right witch or try unraveling the spell herself.
After determining that none of his kind lingered in the darkness, he stepped into the throne room’s shadow space. The emperor paced the floor, his robe flowing about his legs, his eyes flat and cunning. The witch kneeled on the jade tiles, blood in a round pool at her feet. Her raven black hair was a tangled mess, and cobalt blue eyes burned with hatred and anguish. Three guards surrounded her, their swords held about her head, waiting on their emperor’s command.
“Lord Zhang, I ask for mercy,” she said softly, the despair in her tone clutching at Lachlan.
“Mercy? I gave you one task. Control the Darkan beast that had been summoned to a corporeal form. And you failed. I believe another witch with greater power will be better employed.”
A dark primal, instinctive part of Lachlan’s soul stilled. They had somehow managed to pull the chakra from one of his people onto this plane? The beasts that resided in all Darkans were pure mystical energy with their own cunning and intelligence. Only the most powerful of their kind were able to tap into that abyss of unrelenting strength and summon the beast inside to a corporeal form. And only the Darkan host could control that beast. How was it possible that the witch could call it forth and then control it?
The very suggestion shook his soul and an emotion that felt perilously close to fear slithered through him. The concept of anyone possessing the power to harness the will of their people was terrifying and had far-reaching consequences.
“I am with child,” the witch continued, resting her hands against her stomach in a protective gesture.
It was then he saw the gentle swell below her flowing caftan.
“Oh?” The Emperor said, a look of cunning settling over his features. “And why should that be of any import to me? Unless, who might be the father?”
She lifted her head and met the Emperor’s curious gaze. “Another witch from my coven.”
Lachlan sensed that she lied, and he stepped into her shadow assessing her.
The emperor held her stare. “There is a rumor you allowed a Darkan between your thighs. One whom you met at the Inn in Taryllion. And now you are with child.”
She whitened, and Lachlan tensed. She had survived the wastelands? Taryllion was violent and lawless—thousands of miles of land which separated the borders of the seven kingdoms of Amagarie. It possessed flat lands that seemed to stretch endlessly before mountains rose behind them, dark and intimidating. Many did not know of its underground city built deep inside the caverns of the wastelands, made up of exiles from the seven kingdoms, thieves, and assassins. Ironically, it had an Inn, where all factions could dine and drink, and even bed down for the night without fear of losing their lives. That savage and lawless place operated with a code—anyone within the Inn’s wall was safe.
And she had met a Darkan there.
The hands that pushed her dark hair from her forehead trembled. “A Darkan can only impregnate a mate, and I’m no one’s mate,” she said, grooves of strain bracketing her mouth.
“Ah...but you did allow one to ride between your thighs, my sweet Amirah.”