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Published By:
Etopia Press
P.O. Box 66
Medford, OR 97501
http://www.etopiapress.com

Dominion of the Eth
Wings Book 2

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or
reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission,
except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and
reviews.

First Etopia Press electronic publication: October 2011
http://www.etopia-press.net

Chapter One

Rylis ran across the manicured lawns as fast as

his little legs could carry him, flapping his wings
furiously as he tried to use them to gain yet more
momentum.

He forgot he was late for supper, forgot he was in

so much trouble.

All he could see were the approaching horses that

had just entered the gates of the great estate.

“Papa!” he cried, joy in every line of his body.

“Papa…”

The two Melanian warriors who rode at the head

of the returning troops turned their heads in surprise,
and the taller of the two broke into an immediate
smile of welcome, his harsh face softening.

Without pause, Warin Tanyan dismounted

swiftly from his horse, handing the reins to the
warrior beside him, who watched with indulgent eyes
as his friend stepped forward to greet his son.

“Rylis.” The father went to one knee and caught

the hurtling bundle, half unfurling his massive wings
to brace himself against the onslaught.

Rylis wrapped his little arms around his father,

holding him tightly, as though he might disappear

again. He tried to be brave, tried not to cry, but tears
escaped his tightly closed eyes anyway.

His father wiped them away with a gentle hand,

then kissed his cheek and lifted him high against his
chest as he stood up.

Rylis loved the sensation of height and hoped

fiercely that one day he might be as tall as his father,
as brave as him and as strong.

His father was the High Commander of the

Masarian army, whatever that meant. All Rylis knew
was that his father was rarely home, and that he
missed him with every beat of his heart when he was
away.

He buried his head against his father’s neck,

unwilling for any of the soldiers to see his emotions.
When he felt his father remount his horse, only then
did he peek out, enjoying the feel of being on top of
Warin’s warhorse.

Rylis eyed the stranger riding beside them, his

eyes wide and wary. The man smiled, seeing the
inquisitive blue eyes fixed on him.

“Hello, Rylis. I am happy to meet you at last.”

The voice was smooth and even, but with a power
underlying it that made Rylis cling to his father more
tightly.

He did not answer the stranger, only watched

him solemnly, unsure.

His father nudged him. “Do not be rude, son.

This is my—friend, Kiell. He is the King of Melan, so
be respectful.” Rylis nodded, chastened by his father’s
tone. “Hello,” he whispered softly, his gaze running
up Kiell’s face to the top of his head. “You don’t have
a crown.” He frowned, confused.

Kiell laughed out loud. “I don’t wear it all the

time,” he confessed to the little boy. “It is very
heavy.” His tone seemed to mean many things, but
Rylis did not try to understand as he snuggled deeper
into his father’s arms.

His father said this man was king, so he was.

Kings wore crowns, but… He pushed further thought
out of his head. All that mattered was his papa was
home…and Mama could not hurt him while Papa
was here.

Rylis shivered. He wished his papa never had to

leave, because when he did Mama got very angry and

seemed to think Rylis was a very bad boy. He was not
supposed to tell Papa this, but this time, Rylis was
older, and he was big now, big enough to go with
Papa.

Perhaps now was the time to bring this up, before

Papa and Mama got together. That was never a good
time for anything.

“Papa?”

Warin looked down at his only child, his eyes soft

with love, an oddity on his fierce features. “Yes,
Rylis?”

“I am very old now, Papa. Can I come with you

now? Please?” The tone held an unfamiliar
desperation that chilled Warin.

“Not quite yet, son. Soon, though.”
To his horror, Rylis’s eyes filled with tears, and he

clutched his papa tightly, his heart beginning to
pound hard enough that his father could literally feel
it throbbing in the little chest.

“Please, Papa. Let me come with you. Mama…”

Rylis’s childish voice choked off immediately, a look
of fear crossing his thin features. Warin felt his
suspicions rise. There had been times when he had
wondered, but Rylis would never confirm… A deep,
dark fury began to rise within him, marred by guilt.

He shot at look at Kiell, his friend, his king, his

lover.

If his marriage had been better, had had the

slightest bit of love in it, then he would not have
turned to his friend for comfort. It had been far too
late when he discovered that his wife had a mean
streak a mile wide. Still, he had never believed that
even she could stoop to harming her own child, until
now.

That fear in Rylis’s voice was all too real. This was

not the maneuvering of a child to get his way, not that

Rylis had ever done such a thing. He was always so
quiet, so still, as though trying to be invisible.

Warin’s anger began to rise ever higher. If she

had a laid a hand on his son, he would kill the bitch
and be done…

Kiell seemed to have picked up the nuances of

Rylis’s words, for his face had gone cold and hard as
well. “I will see to him if you want to go speak to
her…”

Warin shot his lover a grateful glance. He did not

want Rylis to be witness to what would occur if he
and his wife crossed tempers. If this were true—he
was not sure he could hold back as he had so often
before. This time she would not be safe from his
wrath.

They entered the ornate courtyard of the vast

estate house and dismounted.

“Stay with Kiell, Rylis. I need to speak with your

mother, all right?”

“She is going to be angry, Papa. I am late for

supper already.” Again, the fear on his son’s little face
jarred Warin. No child should wear that look at the
thought of his own mother.

“It will be all right, son.” Warin kissed the top of

Rylis’s head. “Just be good for Kiell.”

Rylis nodded uncertainly, watching his father

stride through the metal gates that led to the front
doors. He clasped shaking hands together as he

stared up and up at Kiell, his little wings wrapped
around him in comfort.

It was better when Kiell went to one knee before

him. Then he and his huge, dark gray wings did not
seem nearly as scary.

“Would you like to see what your father brought

home, Rylis?” Kiell’s voice softened.

Rylis shot a fearful glance towards the house, his

wings clamping tight against his body before he
nodded.

Kiell held out a huge hand and, hesitantly, Rylis

took hold of it, his little fingers only able to hold two
of Kiell’s in their grasp.

“Your father brought home a pet. Maybe you

would like to see it?”

Rylis’s face lit up. He loved animals. He nodded

enthusiastically and walked eagerly forward with
Kiell, his wings slowly unfurling as they left the

influence of the house and its occupants.

“Is it a wolf?” he questioned with vast excitement.

He had been hearing stories from his nurse about
wolves, and they sounded both scary and wonderful
at the same time. He longed to see one.

“No.” Kiell chuckled. “This is much better. It is an

Eth.”

“An Eth?” Rylis’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“Yes, a very exotic animal from the south. Your

father captured it. They are worth a lot of money

because they…” Kiell cut off his words, flushing a
little as he realized he had been about to mention how
most Eth were sold for sex slaves. They were said to
be worth their price, even though they rarely lived
long through rough handling and captivity.

Kiell gestured to the men who were currently

standing guard near the large, covered cage, and they
flung back the thick covering.

Rylis stepped closer, fascinated but confused. He

looked up at Kiell with that confusion clear in his
eyes.

“He does not look like an animal. He looks like

us.”

The creature within, bound with chains at neck,

wrists and ankles, slowly looked up.

Rylis felt his heart jump. Such beauty…
Surely this was the most beautiful creature he had

ever seen.

A narrow, high-boned face with slanted, golden

eyes. A lean, lithe body with pale as snow skin,
marred everywhere by bruises that stood out
obscenely on the delicate flesh. Long fingers tipped
with sharp claws, and fine boned hands balanced
well-muscled arms, and the creature seemed large
even curled up as it was. Rylis thought it might even
be taller than his papa, and that was amazing.

But it was the wings that drew Rylis the most.

They were amazingly, stunningly gorgeous. They

looked fragile, more like butterfly wings than Rylis’s
own sturdy, feathered wings, but they were the same
shape. An ornate pattern of dots and swirls covered
their surface, again more like a butterfly than
Melanian wings. They were huge, bent to fit the small
cage, and Rylis drew his own wings close in

unconscious sympathy.

The creature, the Eth, watched him, its tangled

white hair wild about its face. Rylis wished he could
touch—he took a tiny step forward, and the creature
snarled, lunging to the end of its chains in a heartbeat.

Kiell yanked Rylis back, even as one of the guards

thrust a spear through the bars, driving the Eth back.

“Don’t hurt it,” Rylis pleaded, seeing blood rise

on the pale skin. “It was my fault. I got too close.”

Kiell nodded at the guards, and they stepped

back to their places, faces expressionless.

“Commander Warin wishes it put in the golden

pavilion at the end of the house. See to it. We don’t
want to lose it until it has at least seen some use.” The
men laughed, and there was an undercurrent that
Rylis did not understand. All he could see were those
golden eyes, and something in their depths made
Rylis very, very sad inside.

It was later that night that he crept out of the

house, a small bundle in his hands. He was good at

stealth—it was the best way to avoid his mother’s
attentions, and he had learned over the years how to
escape the confines of the house without anyone
being the wiser.

It was brightly moonlit outside, and he kept to the

shadows, pausing often to listen. Now that his

father’s men were home, it would not do to be caught
by them. Especially since he was going to do
something he was quite sure his father would not
like.

The golden pavilion lay on the west side of the

vast house, and although there were guards on duty,
no one was right next to the large, ornate cage. There
was no need to guard the animal—it was chained by
one ankle, and the iron manacles that still graced its
wrists, ankles and throat held back its magical
abilities. There was no escape.

Rylis snuck through the low ornamental bushes

off to one side of the cage, freezing in place when at
last he could see the Eth.

It was standing now in the space of the pavilion,

able to pace restlessly back and forth to the length of
the long chain, which prevented it from actually
touching the golden bars. It was huge, much taller
than any Melanian that Rylis had met.

It wings were free now, and Rylis sucked in a

deep breath at the sight of them. They seemed to have
something on them that made them half glow in the

light of the moon, some parts brighter than others,
and the fair skin seemed otherworldly in the pale
light.

Rylis just lay there for a long time, taking in the

wonder that this creature was. He had never seen or
heard of anything this beautiful.

At last he crept forward, and although he thought

he was utterly silent, the Eth snapped its head in his
direction, golden eyes seeming to pierce Rylis’s
hiding place without effort. It did not snarl, did not
do anything but stare, body tense.

Rylis knew that animals did not like things they

could not properly see, so he slowly came out from
the bush, watching warily for guards that might pass
by on their rounds.

Once in sight, he sat down just out of reach of the

bars, watching the Eth.

It took in several deep breaths as if to scent him,

but it neither retreated nor advanced towards him,
nor did its caution wane in the slightest.

Once Rylis was sure the creature had seen him

properly, he rose to his feet and circled the cage until
he came to where two bowls lay near the cage door.
He peered into them, frowning when he saw the mess
of mixed food that they had fed the creature. It looked
exactly like what they fed the dogs, meat mixed with
kibble and somehow, some way, Rylis knew this
creature was not a meat eater. Certainly the food had

not been touched, though half the water in the other
bowl was gone.

The Eth turned to watch him, keeping him in

sight but still making no move to advance or retreat.

Rylis unwrapped his bundle, and he saw the

Eth’s nostrils flare in interest as he took out a large

apple.

“I think you like fruit,” Rylis whispered, glancing

around to make sure he was both unheard and
unseen. “Come on, I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

The creature was listening to his voice, that much

was certain, and Rylis kept his tone soothing as he did
with all the little animals he took in and cared for.
Animals he could trust, people he could not.

Finally, after long moments, the Eth moved—no,

that did not describe his grace. He glided across the
cage, wings fully extended, caution in every line of
his body.

Rylis leaned forward slowly and laid the apple

between the bars, before rolling it carefully towards
the Eth.

The creature stiffened in place, then ever so

slowly took the necessary step forward towards the
apple. It stared at Rylis, the tips of its sharp teeth
visible in the moonlight as it gave a low growl of
warning; then it bent and snatched the fruit up with a
swiftness that put even full-fledged Melanian
warriors to shame.

It sniffed the apple thoroughly—perhaps scenting

whether it had been tampered with—before biting
deeply and eagerly into the rich fruit.

Rylis swore he heard a faint moan escape the

Eth’s lips, and he settled into a cross-legged pose,
smiling as he watched the creature devour the fruit.

It was a fruit eater, just like he had thought. Rylis

was proud he had trusted his instincts, otherwise the
Eth would have gone hungry. Perhaps it had gone
hungry for a long time, for its ribs seemed to show
more than Rylis liked. Having confirmed that apples
were on the menu, Rylis then rolled a purple citrus
fruit, a ghauv, into the cage. The Eth eyed the new
fruit warily, and Rylis had the distinct impression
that wherever the creature came from, this type of
fruit was new to it.

It finally picked the fruit up cautiously and

smelled it all over, before looking at Rylis with a hint

of bewilderment in its eyes.

Rylis grinned. He picked up a second ghauv and

dug his thumbs into the thick, purple skin, peeling it
back carefully. The fruit inside was almost black, able
to be pulled off in sections once the peel was gone.

The Eth watched his every move intently, and

when Rylis popped one of the sections in his own
mouth, the creature immediately copied everything
he had done without pause, before beginning to eat
the fruit also.

Rylis froze, staring at the Eth in wonder.
“You are not an animal. No animal does that. No

animal could remember all that,” he whispered to
himself. All his dealings with animals, big and small,
told him that the Eth was nothing like them. He was
like Rylis—just a little different. People could be

different. Papa said there were people in the country
of Nazar who had white wings and golden hair and
were taller than Melanians. Rylis could not even
imagine that, but if Papa said it was true, then it must
be true. Therefore, Eths could be just different people.

He watched it eat, his little hand propping up his

chin as he thought. Why did the adults not see this?
Even Papa’s friend, the king, thought the Eth was an
animal.

Rylis shrugged. Adults were blind sometimes.

They were so busy with adult jobs, they never seemed
to take the time to think about why things were or

how things happened.

Rylis carefully fed the Eth all the rest of his fruit,

but began to worry about the mess in the cage.
Everyone would know that somebody had fed the
creature, and Rylis did not want to lie to Papa. He
tried to be honest, even though truth was not a good
thing with Mama.

The Eth seemed to have calmed, and it sat

down—imitating Rylis’ posture, perhaps—and sat

staring at him, its hunger appeased and curiosity
taking its place.

Rylis stared back with the fearless curiosity of the

young. When the Eth tilted its head, he did too; when
its fingers tapped on its leg, Rylis copied.

This was fun. The Eth’s lips curled up, and for a

moment Rylis thought he had angered it, but it was
soon apparent the expression was a smile, and Rylis
grinned back.

The clack of boots against the stone pathway

made both of them freeze, and the Eth rose
soundlessly to its feet, wings held back in a threat
display.

Rylis looked despairingly at the scraps of the

fruit. If he could just reach them…

To his amazement, the Eth looked once in his

direction before swiftly stooping to gather up the
cores and peels and tossing them under the same

bush Rylis had appeared from.

Rylis could only gape in astonishment. If this was

not proof of the Eth’s intelligence, nothing was.

With a swift glance over his shoulder, Rylis snuck

around the far side of the golden pavilion, slipping
under the bush just as one of the guards walked by.
The man stopped by the cage, staring at the Eth and
rubbing his crotch, while saying something low-
voiced to the captive being.

The Eth snarled; a low, dangerous tone, and after

a few more whispered comments, the man laughed
and left on his rounds.

Rylis had a bad feeling watching the interaction.

He did not know why the guard would touch himself
that way, but he did not like the way the man had

looked at his Eth.

His Eth?
Well it was. Maybe he could talk Papa into giving

him to Rylis. He would not let anyone hurt him ever
again. Maybe he would like it here, want to stay with
Rylis…

Rylis slowly gathered up the fruit scraps, feeling a

little sad. The Eth was a person—maybe he had a
mama or brothers or sisters, or especially a papa he
wanted to go home to.

It did not seem fair he was in a cage.
He was not an animal.

* * *

Things were not happy in the house the next day.

Mama was leaving, something that had never
happened before, and Rylis’s papa was so angry. Not
at Rylis, or so he said, but at what Mama had done to
Rylis. Papa had made Rylis undress and show all his

bruises, and that seemed to make Papa go very, very
quiet, like he was when he was most angry. Scary
angry.

So now Mama was leaving, with all her ladies,

including Rylis’s nurse, and even as she went out the
door, she was still saying bad things about Rylis and

Papa and things about the king too, things that made
no sense to Rylis at all.

Something about Papa sleeping with the king and

Rylis being the child of a devil. It sounded like Mama
meant Papa, but that made no sense either.

Rylis huddled behind a banister on the huge,

curving stairs of the house and watched with wide
eyes as Mama and her ladies left the house, their
voices still ringing out until one of the servants
swung the great doors shut.

Then there was only silence for long moments

before Rylis could hear Papa talking to several of his

men, his voice still sounding angry.

Rylis curled tighter into himself, hiding within his

wings, sure that somehow he had brought this all
about. If he had not asked Papa to take him away,
then maybe things would have been all right.

Footsteps sounded on the marble stairs, and Rylis

looked up through tear-filmed eyes at Kiell.

The king sat down beside him and put a

comforting arm on his shoulders, a gray wing
wrapping around him, hiding him from the world,

and Rylis was so lost he even cuddled into him,
desperate for any warmth after what he had
witnessed between his parents.

“None of this is your fault, Rylis.” The calm, deep

voice was firm and sincere. Rylis scrubbed at his face,
ashamed to cry in front of the king. He was supposed

to be big.

“But I did not do what Mama said. She said never

to show Papa the bruises, and I did.”

Kiell turned to him a little more and stroked

Rylis’s thick black hair back with his other hand.

“Sometimes adults are wrong, Rylis. Sometimes

they do bad things, and what your mother did to you
was very much wrong.”

“I don’t think she liked me very much,” Rylis

whispered, releasing this secret he never spoke of.
“Sometimes she said she hated me…”

Kiell drew in a deep breath and then slowly

released it. “Your mother had some problems, Rylis.
She has never been a happy woman, and she made
your papa very unhappy, so he found happiness
somewhere else. That made her angry, and she took
that out on you. It is nothing you did wrong, my boy.
Nothing at all. It is all adult problems and nothing
you could have changed.” The king tousled Rylis’s
hair and stood, offering his hand.

“How about we go eat now, Rylis? You know

food always makes your papa a much less grouchy
man.”

Rylis could not help a giggle from escaping at this

description of his papa, and he reached out and took
the king’s hand. Kiell carefully wiped away the tears

with the backs of his fingers, and they descended the
stairs together.

* * *

Later that night, after a terrible nightmare, Rylis

crept along the hallways, determined to find Papa. He
needed him, needed his strong arms around him,
telling him he was safe and things were all right.

When at last Rylis heard Papa’s voice, he was so

relieved he could have cried all over again, but he
severely chastised himself. If he kept crying like this,

Papa would think he was little and not take him. Now
that Mama was not here, what would happen?

Papa’s voice was laughing, but it had a strange

tone to it, so Rylis hesitated, suddenly unsure.
Something about the energy coming from that
room…

There were moans and rhythmic grunts and soft

cries that sounded like pain. Rylis hovered,

desperately wanting his papa but afraid of something
he could not understand.

He finally slipped onto the window seat in a

nearby alcove, and sat there in the dark, eyes wide
and worried upon the door. He would wait until
Papa was not busy—with whatever he was doing.

When the door flung wide, he almost squeaked.
“Tran! Quinan! Get your asses up here!” Papa

was naked, and the smell of wine permeated the
hallway now, making Rylis’s nose scrunch in distaste.
He stayed still in his hiding spot. Papa did not sound
like he would want Rylis right now.

Two guards came up the stairs and entered

Papa’s room, emerging a short time later with the Eth,
clearly unconscious, thrown over one of the men’s
shoulders. They disappeared down the stairs while
Rylis watched in silent horror.

His Eth.

What could have happened? The door closed, and

he could hear his Papa laughing.

How could he laugh when the Eth was hurt?
Rylis dithered, debating, then slunk down the

stairs. Perhaps it was not a good thing to bother Papa
tonight.

He could not get the Eth out of his mind.
Someone had hurt him, in Papa’s room. It made

no sense.

He curled up on his bed and worried.

Several hours later, unable to sleep, Rylis passed

through the house again like a silent little ghost, his
small face pale and grim. During supper yesterday,
he had heard where the keys were hanging for the
golden pavilion and the chains that bound the Eth.
Now he held the heavy keys in his own little hands.

He knew what he was about to do was wrong. He
knew that his papa would be terribly angry at him,
perhaps even as angry as he had been at Mama.
Maybe he would make Rylis leave too. But despite
this, Rylis was determined. They had hurt his Eth.
That was not right. His Eth was not an animal, and it
was wrong to hurt another person like that.

It was misty and cold outside, and Rylis shivered,

wrapping his wings around him, wishing he had
brought a coat. His footsteps left marks in the wet
grass, but hopefully the guards would not see them
until Rylis had achieved what he needed to do.

Tonight the moon was half hidden, so the golden

pavilion was shadowed, but Rylis had sharp eyesight,
as most Melanians had, and he could clearly see the
huddled shape in the center of the cage.

The sound of the key in the lock of the door

seemed very loud in the silence of the night.

The Eth slowly raised his head, his eyes widening

as he watched Rylis struggle to open the heavy,
barred door.

Once inside, Rylis stopped at the edge of where

he knew the Eth could reach, uncertain for the first
time, a tinge of fear piercing his determination.

The adults said the Eth was dangerous, and

certainly he had seemed so at the beginning. But he
was hurt now. Rylis could smell the blood from here,

and he felt sick inside.

The Eth did not rise, only watched him silently.
Rylis met those eyes, unconsciously searching for

reassurance.

When a weak hand came up, held out to him, it

broke all his barriers, and he almost ran forward,
taking the hand in his. At once he could feel the Eth’s
emotions: pain, fear, despair.

The Eth laid his head back down with a faint

groan of pain, and Rylis flinched at the sound. He
petted the beautiful white hair gingerly, afraid of
giving more hurt. With a shuddering breath, he

brought forward the heavy keys.

The Eth stared at them in shock that showed he

knew exactly what they were, before raising his gaze
to Rylis in question.

“We have to get you out of here,” Rylis

whispered fiercely, knowing the Eth probably could
not understand. He tried each key in the left wrist
manacle, struggling to turn them with his little
fingers.

At last it clicked open, and the iron fell away. The

Eth rubbed his wrist, and Rylis noticed the wrist
begin to glow very faintly. The Eth sat up, obviously
dizzy, and Rylis tried to brace the huge form with his
small one. They sat thus for some moments while the
Eth seemed to gather strength from his one free limb,

his hand against the floor of the cage as though he
drew energy up from the earth itself. Then he reached
out and gently took the heavy keys from Rylis, who
relinquished them gladly. From there, it was only
short moments until all the iron fell away from
bruised and torn flesh, and the Eth was free of his
bonds.

Rylis watched in awe as the Eth began to glow

brighter than the moonlight could ever be, his wings
stretched out to their fullest, his body arched as he
drew in power to heal himself.

It was like magic. Some of the bruises and cuts

remained, but the Eth was stronger, more like Rylis
could imagine him before he was captured.

The glow slowly faded, and the Eth looked down

at Rylis, his eyes bright and fierce. He reached down
and caressed Rylis’s face, and he spoke—actually
spoke—a language that sounded like bells to Rylis’s
wondering ears.

He urged Rylis up and smiled at him, and Rylis

could only smile in return as he took the Eth by the
hand and led him to the door of the cage. The Eth

paused for a moment as though unsure, then he
stepped through, letting out the tiniest sound as his
bare feet touched the earth. He swept Rylis up into
his arms, and they began to move through the
shadows toward the nearby forest at a pace that was
breathtaking. Rylis cuddled close in wonder for the

first short time but as they reached the trees, he
patted the Eth’s cheek to get the creature to face him.

“I have to go back. I can’t go with you. I have to

stay with Papa.”

The Eth shook his head and took another few

steps before stopping again at Rylis’s relentless
tugging of his hair.

Rylis wriggled, and the Eth finally set him down

with great reluctance.

Gesturing the Eth to bend down, Rylis gave him a

kiss on the cheek, stroking the white hair a last time
before pointing to the forest.

“You have to go, before they catch you again.”

Rylis felt tears rise, and he cursed his weakness. He
wanted to be big and strong in front of his Eth.

Long, gentle fingers dragged sharp claws

harmlessly over Rylis’s tender cheek, then the Eth
reluctantly stepped back, looking at him for a long
moment before turning away and melting into the
trees without a sound. Rylis stared after him for some
time, but there was no sound, and he finally turned

Chapter Two

The Present:

My dear boy… Rylis’s lips quirked at the familiar

address, wondering if and when the king would see
him as being a full grown Melanian, much less a
commander of the army.

I gather by the reluctance that you have shown in

returning to me that you are less than enthusiastic about

gathering up the reins of power here and beginning your
training to inherit rule of this country.

I do understand, but you will not have freedom to

choose much longer. Soon you will have to undergo a
change of heart, for I will not give over my throne to any
other. The country needs you, Rylis. It is your destiny to
rule here. Once I felt as you, wanted anything other than to
be king, but the time is coming when I can no longer be
merciful. I know you love the people too much to let chaos
reign upon my death, and my illness shows I will not live
forever, my boy. I would be eased in the knowledge that you

have training behind you before you step up to the throne.
It will make things easier for everyone, especially you.

I know your wildness though, know how hard this will

be for you, a type of imprisonment of your soul. Therefore,
this last time, I will give you a measure of freedom before I
must insist on your return, before you must begin your
training.

I have received word from the south that the barbaric

Eths are rising up at our use of the forest lands, and I
would have you go there to settle things and make reason
out of foolishness. There have been deaths of the barbarians
as well, and perhaps it is that which has them banding
together in a manner quite unlike their usual ineffective
blunderings. Whatever it may be, I need you to calm things
down and see that temper does not overcome good sense.
Captain Raimuth is in charge down there, and I am
considering recalling him. His prejudice seems to be
affecting things adversely. Give me your insight once you
arrive there, and I will stand behind your choices. You have
my power, never doubt that. I give you a month, my boy.

Then I will see you once more.

Keep me apprised of what is occurring there, and I

expect a solution to be found swiftly.

Ever your Guardian,
Kiell, King of Melan.
Rylis rubbed a thumb over the red wax seal, his

lips thinning as he stared at the royal crest. One day,
he would be the one using it…

He tossed his head as though to shake away the

mere thought, trying to return to the gist of the letter

itself. Rylis smoothed his fingers over the king’s letter,
a faint smile of remembrance upon his grim face. So
long ago that was, like another lifetime.

His father had been so angry after the release of

the Eth, and Rylis had thought he was going to get
the beating of his life, but when he had started crying

and told both his father and Kiell that he could not
bear the Eth’s pain, both had gotten such a guilty look
upon their faces that the anger seemed to fade away.

Rylis had gotten off lightly, although his father

had chastised him for releasing a dangerous animal
into the countryside. Despite the adult’s fears, no
trace of the Eth had ever been found, and there had
been no attacks ever mentioned in the area.

They had left the country estate and returned

with Kiell to the capital and the King’s Palace, where
they had lived for three years before Rylis’s father
had been killed in a battle with the Nazarians. Even

now, the memory had the power to bring a lump of
grief to Rylis’s throat and a flash of hatred towards
those who had taken his father’s life. Add that to the
fact he had lost Anyar to Vanyae, a Nazarian prince,
and he doubted he could ever see Nazarians as
anything but the enemy, albeit one at truce with them.

Still, he could see his father when he looked in the

mirror each day. The same thick black hair, cut short
in the military style, the same startling blue eyes. He
was taller than his father had been by an inch or two,

but his shoulders were not quite as broad, though
they shared the same muscular build. He wished that
his father could see him now. Would he be proud of
all he had achieved? He had tried with all his might
to honor his father’s name, his memory in the eyes of
the troops of Melan.

He could only hope that he had achieved this

aim.

Rylis did not know if his childish memories of the

Eth were completely clear, but he did know that Eths
were not mindless beasts any more than Melanians
themselves were. He kept his opinions to himself,
since it only led to argument and strife with those he
spoke to, but he knew in himself what was right.

His lips turned up in a smile of anticipation.
Now was the time to see if childish memory

stacked up to reality.

* * *

Rylis rode with half an ear listening to his men’s

banter, smiling slightly to himself over some of the
more outrageous rumors that circulated about the
Eths. He shook his head slightly at the more lurid
ones, such as comments that they ate their enemies
and each other.

So many years had gone by since his own Eth,

and he was saddened by the knowledge that it
seemed no one had taken the time or trouble to study
the Eths, or at least search for some truth among the
wild rumors. Anyone with intelligence would have
been able to sense that all these stories could not

possibly be true, and yet no one had done anything
about it.

Things had always been tense in the south

because of the Eths’ presence, but in the last few
years, conflict had risen as Melanians began to eye the
vast Teeathun Forest for its timber.

The ancient forest had always been remote and

mostly ignored, but as resources dwindled in the rest
of the country, it became more financially sound to
plunder the bounty of the Teeathun, the home of the
Eths.

For many years, the forest had been protected by

some sort of energy barrier that resisted all efforts to
penetrate it, but over the past twenty years or so, it
had been weakening for some reason, and gradually
the Melanians had been able to force their way in.

It amazed Rylis that no one had ever questioned

the origin of the energy barrier itself. To him, it was
perfectly obvious it was the doing of the Eths, and yet
no one else seemed to have ever linked the two. A
barrier did not just exist on its own—it must be

maintained by someone. Yet no one ever credited the
Eths with the intelligence to do so.

Sometimes Rylis was stymied by his own race’s

persistent blindness as regarded their beliefs. The
Eths were animals—therefore they could not possibly
be responsible for the barrier. If not the Eths, then

who? No one even asked.

With his own silent beliefs, Rylis often felt a sense

of isolation among his own people.

Could Rylis somehow show others that this was

another race, not a group of animals whose rights
could be disregarded?

He only had a month.
He grimaced to himself, trying to push away the

feelings of panic that ensued every time he thought of
accepting the crown. He loved his people deeply, but
he was no king.

* * *

They arrived in the lush, southern valleys after a

two-week ride, and it was a relief to enter the town of
Raleigh, where the army had a small military outpost.
Their arrival caused quite a stir in the quiet town, and
people turned out to watch them pass with curiosity
writ large in their expressions. Several comments

floated to Rylis’s ears, speculating that the military
might be here to finally eradicate those damned Eths.
Rylis could only sigh with a certain amount of inner
frustration as he realized that any attempts he made
at persuading the populace the Eths were not what
they had been painted to be by ignorant minds was

going to meet with resistance.

In fact, the prevalence of the negative sentiments

surrounding the Eths was beginning to make Rylis
wonder if perhaps his Eth had been an anomaly. Was
there perhaps a warlike sect of the Eths he did not
know about? Only the night before, as they camped, a
rumor had come in from a passing merchant that
there had been attacks upon the town of Raleigh
itself, and there had been deaths among the
townsfolk.

If that were true, Rylis’s job was going to be a lot

harder than he had anticipated.

This close, Teeathun could be felt as much as

seen, towering over them all with a sort of brooding
menace that wore on Rylis’s nerves. He could not
imagine living in close proximity to a force of such
intensity.

The barrier he had heard so much of was dim and

weak, evident even to his untrained eye. This, then,
was why the forest was dying, its resources
plundered with impunity.

Rylis forced his fascinated stare away from

Teeathun, fixing his gaze upon the military fort before
them.

Captain Raimuth, whom Kiell had expressed

doubt about in his letter, greeted them with both
overabundant respect and some degree of worry in

his expression, as though he wondered why the
commander of the Army would himself appear at
such a small and insignificant dot on the map as
Raleigh.

Rylis kept himself courteous but aloof, watching

everything with an eagle eye and offering very little
explanation as to his sudden appearance. He had no
need to explain himself to a mere captain, and the
man’s fawning manner was annoying in the extreme.

As the commander, he was given a tour of the

small garrison, and he was shocked at the squalid
conditions of the quarters and the slovenly

appearance of the troops. His expression must have
said it all, because men were scurrying here and
there, appearing again dressed more conventionally,
trying desperately to comb back filthy hair and hide
dirt-encrusted fingernails.

Obviously military rules had not been enforced

for some time.

Rylis did not even need to speak. His frown

seemed to say it all, and Captain Raimuth cringed
under the look that no doubt seemed to see clear

through him as though detailing every mistake he
had ever made in his entire life.

The captain offered his own rooms for Rylis, but

Rylis, concealing the distaste he felt for the filth of his
surroundings, politely refused, stating that he and his
men would form their own encampment for the

duration of their stay, complete with their own
pavilions. He could hear his men heave sighs of relief.
Obviously no one actually wanted to enter the
quarters, not if the smell that emanated from inside
was any indication of their cleanliness.

Rylis asked for a report of the current status of the

garrison and what they had been dealing with, and
his concern only grew as Raimuth stuttered and
stammered through a confusing medley of events that
made no sense whatsoever. Finally Rylis held up one
gloved hand, halting the flow, and told Raimuth to
have a written report to him by the morning, leaving

an order for the rest of the men to be in military
regalia and an improved state of cleanliness by the
next day’s inspection.

He dismissed the captain and walked towards

where his encampment was being set up, feeling a
sort of physical discomfort after talking to the man.
He wanted a bath. Something about Raimuth was off,
and Rylis ordered several of his men to keep an eye
on the captain at all times, to see what was unnerving

the man so completely about his commander’s
presence.

* * *

The moist, cool night air let Rylis sleep well, and

he woke in the morning with a sense of renewal. His
normal restlessness seemed almost quelled for once,
and he wondered at its absence. Rarely was he so
relaxed as he had become in only a few short hours.

He had breakfast with his men, as he liked to do,

sharing food with them in a ritual that they all
enjoyed. Meal times were a form of bonding that had
seen them through many an event during the war
years. Now it was pleasant to take time, to know one
did not have to bolt through eating in order to spend
the day on patrol or fighting. It felt like sinful luxury
to squander time just because they had so much of it.

Rylis refused to see Captain Raimuth until they

had all finished eating.

When at last Rylis allowed the man into the front

of his pavilion, where his office had been set up, he
swept a critical eye over the officer, inspecting both
his manner and his uniform.

Raimuth had cleaned up, shaved, and was

wearing a relatively clean uniform that looked like it

had been dragged out of a trunk, crumpled and
creased with fold lines. Rylis arched an eyebrow,
indicating his appraisal, and Raimuth flushed,
tugging at his jacket in an attempt to bring himself to
the crisp perfection of Rylis’s own garment.

Rylis held out a silent hand, and Raimuth quickly

handed over his report before returning to parade
stance before his commander’s desk.

Rylis read the first page with a frown that only

grew as he turned to the second and found only a few
words upon it. He turned it over, but there was
nothing more. His frown remained as he looked up at
the Captain, realizing the man was sweating like an
overworked horse. Rylis’s eyes narrowed. He laid the
report down on the desk before leaning back, fingers
laced over his stomach, gaze fixed like a weapon
upon the captain.

“There have been seven attacks upon this town in

the last year, and yet your report on them is sketchy
at best. I would expect more from a man in charge of
any outpost, remote though this might be.”

The captain licked his lips and tried to stand

straighter. “I was thrown by your sudden appearance,
sir. Worried that I cannot give you appropriate
accommodations and food. We are poor here—”

Rylis waved a hand, cutting off the flow of words.

“I have been sent by the king to determine what is
causing these attacks.” He tapped a long finger on the

report. “Nothing here is giving me the slightest clue,
and that tells me that something is wrong.”

Raimuth’s face paled further as he shot an

accusing glance down at the report as though it were
to blame for his failure. He struggled to meet Rylis’s
piercing eyes and the cold speculation there.

“We have been so busy fighting, sir. I have been

remiss in my paperwork, and I probably missed a lot
of detail. I am sure I can remember if you want me
to.”

Rylis raised one eyebrow. “I think this is fairly

important, Captain. We have never had this amount
of trouble with the Eths before, and suddenly in the
last year, it has escalated to outright conflict and
deaths. Why?”

“Well, we are logging the edges of the forest…”

Raimuth stammered.

“I know that. The king knows that. There were

conflicts, yes, but never to the extent of bloodshed.
Now that has changed, and the king wants to know
why.” Rylis leaned forward. “You are in charge here,
Captain. If there is a problem, it is your duty to report
it immediately so that it might be fixed. I am getting
the feeling that there is a lot you have not reported,
not to mention, the state of this outpost is appalling.
The lack of military discipline and cleanliness is not to
be borne. I expect this to be rectified immediately, is
that clear?”

Raimuth drew a deep breath and saluted, but

Rylis could detect the faintest hint of relief in his
expression, as if he thought he was getting off lightly.

“And by the way, Captain. You will tell me

everything, and I mean everything, that has
happened here as regards this problem. I am getting

to the bottom of this, by his Majesty’s command. If
you have anything you would like to say now, I
suggest you say it, because if I find out that things are
being kept from his Majesty’s attention, I will not be a
happy man.” The menace in his voice made the
captain shrink back, and he looked around the tent a
bit frantically as though wracking his mind for a way
to distract his commander.

“We have prisoners, sir, that you might want to

view…”

* * *

Rylis fought his own emotions, keeping his

expression cold and calm as he viewed the squalid
cage. Two fully grown Eths—warriors by what
Raimuth said—were huddled naked within its
confines, compressed into a space barely large
enough for one. Their eyes held fury, fear and

despair, their hatred almost palpable as they stared at
the Melanians.

“How long have they been prisoners?” Rylis was

proud that his tone held none of the horror he felt.

Raimuth shrugged. “A little over two weeks, sir.”

The look in his eyes as he viewed the Eths made Rylis

stiffen with sudden recognition. It was identical to
that long ago guard who had rubbed his crotch while
looking at Rylis’s Eth.

Rylis had to clench his fist to prevent himself

from smashing the leer from the Captain’s face. He
turned to Grannian. “Bring me some apples.”

His second in command raised an eyebrow in

faint surprise but did not question his commander’s
strange request.

Rylis stood in silence, ignoring the captain’s

curiosity, as well as the attention they were garnering
from all the soldiers simply by being here. It was

evident by the excitement that they had never
expected to see the Commander Tanyan here in their
little outpost so far from anything important.

Grannian returned in short order and handed his

commander four apples. Rylis tucked three in his
uniform jacket and stepped toward the cage.
Immediately weapons were drawn around him, and
he turned to scowl at his men.

“Stand down.”

Grannian looked worried, his gaze flicking

between the Eths and his Commander. “Sir, I
think…”

“They are caged and bound with iron. Do you

think me incapable of protecting myself?” For once he
was glad of his own reputation. No one would be

brave enough to even think of disputing his martial
skills.

“No, sir, just—be careful.” There was honest

concern behind Grannian’s words, and Rylis’s anger
waned.

“I will be, just keep an eye on the other

hotheads.” Rylis’s hand indicated the troops of the
outpost. “I don’t want an incident. Is that clear?”
Rylis’s gaze landed on the captain.

“Yes, sir,” Raimuth responded, though his

creased brow indicated worry. If the heir to the throne
should be injured in his outpost, it would probably be

his head that would roll at his Majesty’s fury.

Rylis couldn't care less. He walked slowly

towards the cage, apple in hand.

The two Eths stiffened and growled, trying to

plaster themselves against the furthest bars in a futile
effort to retreat.

Within reach of the bars, Rylis slowly sank to his

heels, opening his hands to show he had no weapon,
only the apple.

The Eths stared at him, tense and wary. Rylis

leaned forward and gently rolled the apple into the
cage, before reaching into his jacket and retrieving a
second apple to roll in as well.

There was a stiff silence, then slowly both Eths

reached for the apples, snatching them up and

devouring them in a desperate manner that showed
their hunger.

Rylis felt a muscle in his cheek twitch. He waited

until they had consumed the first two, then pushed
two more through the bars. “Bring me more fruit,
Grannian,” he ordered softly, never taking his eyes
from the Eths. They seemed different from his
memories of his own Eth. Their hair was colored, for
one thing—one blue and the other a light green. He
could not tell if the colors were natural or some sort of
dye. Their wings were so dusty and bent that Rylis
could not even distinguish whether there were

patterns on them or not. It grieved him greatly to see
such beauty muted beneath the filth pressed upon
them by their captors, Rylis’s own people.

They finished the apples, then stared at him. He

could see confusion in their expressions, distrust and
bitter experience warring with curiosity at this
Melanian’s strange behavior and knowledge of what
they needed to eat.

Rylis remembered his Eth and slowly held out his

hand, palm up. He could feel the tension of his
soldiers, but he never wavered, waiting.

Neither of the Eths blinked, their gazes flicking

from his eyes to his hand with increasing agitation.
Finally one moved, coming toward the bars, his teeth

bared with both anger and fear. He stopped a safe
distance from the edge of the cage, his glance moving
between the watching soldiers and Rylis’s calm
figure.

Finally he put out his own hand, long claws

glistening in the sun and began to reach out, tentative,
but with a certain desperation in his expression.

Rylis’s hand did not waver at the approach of

those deadly claws.

They touched, claw to hand first, then fingertip to

fingertip.

Rylis gasped as his mind was suddenly flooded

with images and emotions. He felt like he was going
to pass out, and then suddenly he was dragged back,
Grannian holding him against his own body.

“Sir? Sir, are you all right?”
Rylis dimly saw his own men heading for the

cage.

“NO!” he managed to croak out. “Leave them

alone.”

The men halted and slowly retreated, hands on

weapons.

Rylis’s vision slowly cleared, and he could see the

two Eths had huddled together again, watching the
soldiers with hatred etched upon their faces.

“A child. They came looking for a missing child,”

Rylis whispered, his eyes widening with realization
as he sorted through the images he had received.

“A child?” Grannian questioned. “There is no

child here, surely?”

Rylis looked up at Raimuth, who would not meet

his gaze.

“I would not be so sure of that,” Rylis whispered,

a sickness rising in his throat.

Chapter Three

Rylis did not confront the captain with his

suspicions. Instead he ordered a meeting with the
townspeople.

The women were the most vocal, condemning the

military’s failure to protect the town. Two townsfolk
had been killed in the last raid, and they wanted the
two captured Eths turned over to them, vengeance
clear in their angered faces.

Rylis let them rant, appearing to pay attention

while he let his eyes examine each face, watching.

The women were clear in their anger and seemed

honest in their words, but many of the men seemed
unable to meet his eyes. One in particular caught
Rylis’s attention. The man stood back, arms folded
over his chest as he watched the interaction with the
faintest of smiles curving his lips. Rylis felt his
feathers bristle just looking at him. All his instincts
began to clamor.

He held up a silencing hand, then gestured to the

man. “You. Come forward.” He knew his impressions
were correct when several of the men of the town
stiffened, worry appearing on their faces. The man

himself seemed self-contained enough, but Rylis was
a commander. He knew how to read a man, and this
one held a secret.

He came before Rylis and bowed. “My lord?” he

questioned, false respect oozing through the words.
Rylis did not respond immediately, and he felt the

tension in the room escalate. It seemed he was on the
right track.

“Your name? And what position do you hold in

this town?” Rylis did not let the dislike he felt filter
through his neutral tone.

The man rose from his bow, and his gaze traced

over Rylis’s body, until he seemed to recall who he
was dealing with, whereupon he turned the leer into
a smile.

“My name is Nigis Panace, my lord. I am the

proud owner of the brothel in Raleigh. I would be
pleased to see you or your men visit us during your

stay. I am well aware how lonely it can get in the
military.”

Rylis held in his instinctive response. He nodded,

and Nigis seemed to gain confidence with the silence.
“We have some of the most exotic whores, my lord,
and as I have told Captain Raimuth, I would be glad
to take those two Eths off your hands, for a
considerable sum. I can assure you”—he looked at
Rylis and then back to the townsfolk—“they would

receive their just punishment, and rather than just kill
them…”

Rylis felt his mind go blank with utter rage, and

he had to take several deep breaths to center himself
enough to be able to think again.

He knew then. Knew why the Eths had been

attacking the town. He wanted to be wrong,
desperately wanted to be wrong, but… Kiell had told
him that the otherworldly beauty of Eths brought
about a need to possess in Melanians, a deep, sexual
urge that was overwhelming in the extreme,
surpassing all good sense and decency.

“Grannian.”
His second in command leaned over his shoulder

from where he stood protectively behind his
commander.

“I want you and a squad of men to search the

brothel. Everywhere, especially if there are cells

below the building.”

Nigis sputtered. “I have done nothing wrong, my

lord. Why are you…”

“The Eths have been attacking this town for a

year, and I think you know damn well why.” Rylis
slowly rose to his feet, rage making his eyes blaze. “I
think you and others have deliberately put this town
at risk by holding captive Eths. I believe that the
attacks are to try to retrieve their people.”

The women stared at him for long moments, then

turned their attention to Nigis, disbelief in their
expressions.

The brothel owner met their stares with a hint of

fear, then looked over his shoulder at several men
who had remained suspiciously silent during the

whole meeting.

Sensing doom beginning to descend, Nigis

pointed to the mayor and several of his advisors. “I
am not the only one. They each own one, and they
keep them at my establishment. The Captain and the
soldiers have some too. I am just providing a service. I
thought it would be best to let them go when the
attacks began.”

The mayor rose to his feet, three others at his

back. “You liar! You did nothing of the sort!”

Nigis clenched his fists. “You bastard! I am not

going down alone. You were the one that wanted

those newest two. Don’t try to lay the blame on me!”

Rylis’s men stepped in as all hells broke loose.

The townspeople lunged at each other, the women’s
rage growing when they realized the source of the
problem. Rylis had the feeling many men were going
to sleep in a cold bed tonight or find themselves
locked out of their homes. He rubbed his brow,
frustration rising. It was not illegal to own an Eth, but
the foolishness of holding prisoners when the forest
was not half a mile distant was beyond

comprehension—and then to lie to the king by
omission of the facts…

He sat watching the melee for some time before

rising and exiting the hall, passing unnoticed past the
combatants to stand outside, drawing in breaths of
clean air to chase away the filth of his discovery.

He stood in silence, staring toward the distant

forest, a sense of helplessness rising within his chest.
Was he the only one with compassion for another
living being? Even animals were treated better than
the Eths, and who was Rylis to try to change years of
ingrained prejudice?

“Commander?” He was shaken out of his morose

reflections by Grannian’s voice.

“I think you should come to the brothel. We

found the Eths.”

At the plural, Rylis flinched, then followed his

second in command, steeling himself for what was to

come.

* * *

Grannian and several of the men held up lanterns

as Rylis entered the large room. The Commander
stopped for a moment, letting his eyes adjust. The
silence was oppressive, the heat in the underground

cell appalling, a complete lack of air circulation
making it humid and stifling. He let his eyes rove
over the huddled figures, wanting to weep as he met
the fear in some faces, the dead acceptance in others.
They were all ages and sizes, most of them women
and younger males. One was no more than a child,

and Rylis immediately recognized him as the boy in
the vision from the Eth’s touch. This was what they
had been fighting for. This was why they had
attacked; hatred fuelled desperation. Trying to save
their families.

The females were small-breasted, as slim and

lithe and only slightly shorter than their male
counterparts. They looked to be as tall as Rylis
himself, who was tall among Melanians. They all had
the intense, golden eyes Rylis remembered from his
Eth, and he felt the same driving need to protect them
as he had back then.

“Unchain them from the floor. Leave on the

bindings. I want them carried out. We are taking
them back to the forest.” He heard no sound of
complaint from his men; their faces held a certain
disgust of their own.

Slowly, he approached, and the Eths huddled

back, chains scraping over the squalid floor.

The small boy curled in on himself, trembling, as

he realized Rylis’s attention was focused on him.
Rylis went to one knee before him, feeling tears start

to his eyes at the boy’s condition. He was so painfully
thin and covered in bruises and marks as though
from the kiss of a whip.

On a child…
Timid eyes, holding far too much knowledge for

one so young, stared at Rylis, tiny, thin fingers

clutching at the chains that bound him.

Rylis accepted the key that released the boy’s

chain from the ring in the floor. The child watched
with wide eyes, fear sparking in his expression as he
saw the many Melanians in the room and all his
companions being pulled up from the floor.

Rylis made a soothing sound in his throat and

gently scooped the child into his arms. Immediately
the little one stiffened, emitting a heart-breaking
whimper of fear.

There was nothing they could do to reassure the

captives. They knew only fear of Melanians at this

point. They would just have to get them to the forest
as swiftly as they could and try to stress them the
least amount possible.

Despite their apparent weakness, Rylis knew he

could not remove the shackles until they were in a
place where the Eths could be released. He could well
remember how his Eth had gained strength with such
swiftness. The strength he had displayed made Rylis
wary. He wanted no more conflict between the races
than had already occurred. He could only pray that

when he released them, the Eths would think only of
escape and not revenge. He would have no choice but
to protect his men, but the thought of having to raise
a weapon against an Eth made him feel ill. Please, no.

More of his men met them outside, and their

expressions did not change as they were given orders

to accompany the captives to the edge of Teeathun
and to bring the two captive male Eths.

Rylis walked with long strides, trying to hold the

child as lightly as possible, terrified of pressing upon
the layered bruises that marred the silken flesh. His
thoughts inevitably went to his own childhood, and
he empathized all too well with this little survivor. He
tried not to think of what else this boy had
undergone. It was too horrific to even contemplate.

He looked down at last when he felt a faint tug at

his wing. The young Eth had put up a hand to touch
the golden feathers, his eyes wide with awe, though

he shrank back as soon as Rylis looked at him.

Rylis smiled a little, shifting his grip to hold the

child in one arm while he reached over to pull a
feather loose, flinching a little at the pain, before
presenting it to the small Eth.

The child stared at him for a long moment before

timidly taking the wondrous feather in his fingers,
looking as though he expected Rylis to snatch it back.

Rylis looked away again, swallowing hard. This

little one had gone through so much, and all Rylis

could really give him was his freedom and a useless
feather. He felt so helpless. He wanted so badly to
make it all right, to take back all that had happened to
these innocents, but he was powerless to remake the
past.

His people had much to answer for.

It seemed never ending, that trek to the edge of

the Teeathun. Most of his men had to carry the Eths;
they were too weak to walk, some of them seeming to
hover dangerously close to death itself, their bodies
limp in the soldier’s arms.

It was with much relief that they neared the

forest’s border. This close, Rylis could see how thin
the barrier was, how weak. No wonder the Teeathun
was under attack. For so many years its riches and
bounty had been protected. The Eths themselves had
been protected. Now…

Rylis wished with all his heart that the barrier

could be resurrected, strengthened. Then there would
be no conflict. The Melanians in their greed for
resources could not enter, and the Eths would not
leave.

There had to be a way…
Rylis gently laid the small Eth down on the lush

grass, gesturing for his men to do the same with the
other captives. Grannian handed him the master key
that would release all the iron shackles and then
stood back with the other men, clearly wary of the

moment the Eths became free, especially when their
commander was still in the midst of them.

Rylis released the boy first, gently removing each

piece of iron and flinging it away with distaste
evident in his expression. When at last the boy was
free, Rylis took his small hands and laid them upon

the earth, holding them against the ground and
willing the weak child to be able to draw forth energy
to heal himself.

The boy stared up at him in wonder, and a blue

glow began at the Eth’s fingertips, pitifully weak, but
there all the same. Rylis felt it tingle at his own
fingers, and he withdrew his touch, wary of the
energy and how it would affect him, maybe even
attack him as an enemy.

He hovered anxiously, praying under his breath

for the child to be able to heal. The blue glow slowly
made its way up thin, bruised arms to the child’s

chest, but there it stayed, and although the boy
seemed slightly better, he was not healing like Rylis’s
Eth had so long ago.

Rylis swallowed down his disappointment,

taking the key and moving to the next Eth, a young
female.

She cringed away from him, eyes half mad, barely

understanding as Rylis unlocked the first iron fetter
around her throat and let it drop away.

She stared at him as he offered the key, and he

began to wonder if she was sane at all. Then she
snatched it from him, feverishly inserting it in the
other locks.

Rylis stood and began to back away, hoping he

would not have to interfere further. It would be

dangerous to stay while they were freeing
themselves.

He waited until he saw the female free herself

totally and pass the key on to the next disbelieving
captive before he turned to the two male Eths his
soldiers still held.

They were amazingly tall when they were

standing, and Rylis felt small in their shadow as he
approached. The one with the blue hair, the one who
had touched him, was looking longingly at the child,
his eyes agonized, before his gaze snapped back to
Rylis, confusion in the look.

“Let them go.” Rylis’s voice was low with feeling.
Grannian did not even protest as Rylis had

thought he might. He simply released the long chains
that the soldiers had been holding.

The Eths looked at each other, then at Rylis, who

gestured towards the other captives.

The males stepped forward, hesitant, with many

glances at Rylis as they did so, as if they thought he
was tricking them, then they were gone. The one with
blue hair went immediately to the boy, and the green-

haired one helped the others free themselves from the
iron shackles. Then and only then did the two males
free themselves.

They began to glow, even as Rylis’s Eth had

glowed, and within moments they seemed to be at
full strength, or at least that was Rylis’s guess.

They turned to look back at the soldiers, and

everyone tensed, expecting an attack, but they only
looked at Rylis for long, considering moments before
they helped the other, weaker Eths to their feet and,
carrying the boy, made their slow and painful way to
the edge of the forest and past the thin barrier. Once
they were through, the watchers could only see dim
shapes, and then they were gone as if they had never
been.

Rylis released a deep sigh of relief.
It had gone well, and no Melanian had been

injured.

It was done.

* * *

It had been a long and exhausting day. Rylis

flopped down on a chair in his pavilion, leaning back
with a sigh, resting his aching head on the high
wooden back.

He had sent the entire garrison, along with the

brothel owner and the other men of the town, back to
face Kiell to answer for their actions in being party to
the endangerment of Raleigh. Half of Rylis’s troops
had escorted them and now, with only half a
contingent of soldiers, the outpost was much quieter.

He had requested a new troop be sent out to secure
the area and had explained to Kiell in a short letter
that he would remain here with his men until such a
time as the replacements arrived.

It was an unexpected reprieve, for it would take

some weeks for the disgraced troops to arrive in the
capital and new troops to be selected and sent back.

It would be at the very least a whole month

before Rylis could leave.

He grinned. Any time he could wring out to

avoid his fate was greatly appreciated.

It was beautiful here, and Rylis looked forward to

exploring the area and perhaps even getting in a
flight or two, viewing the vast Teeathun from the air.
It had been a long while since he had had time to fly,
and he longed to stretch his wings. No doubt some of
his men felt the same way, so he could take them on
some flight training exercises, channeling their
energies into useful maneuvers. The departure of the
former tenants made the place feel cleaner already,
and Rylis felt the urge to set a match to it. It would

take a great deal of work to get this shabby place into
any sort of order for the incoming men.

He sighed. Oh well, it would give the newcomers

something to do with their time. Rylis was certainly
not going to order his elite troops to do it.

The sound of the camp was cheerful around him,

and he felt his muscles slowly relax from their
stiffness, felt his tension subside. His duty was done,
he had obeyed Kiell, solved the issue, and now there
was nothing to do but wait.

A holiday of sorts.
The exotic flavor of this corner of the kingdom

was a pleasant enough place for the sort of relaxation
Rylis and his men were unfamiliar with. The heavy
humidity here coaxed a sort of laziness into Rylis’s
tired, sore muscles, tried to soothe away the tension
that made his thoughts dark and gloomy.

The sun was slowly beginning to set behind the

forest, and Rylis roused himself with a tired grunt. It
was time to eat with his men. He would mention the
flight training for tomorrow and then find his own
bed with a great deal of relief. Sleep would be the
most welcome companion of all.

* * *

He had a restless night, all in all, disturbed by

dreams that seemed to feature his Eth. He woke
several times, staring into the darkness of his
pavilion, and only the soothing murmur of the guards
outside enabled him to chase away a tiny sliver of
unease that seemed to worm its way into his mind.

Each time, he would slowly fade into sleep once
more, but never truly and deeply.

He felt something on the edges of his

consciousness each time he started awake, but when
he reached for it with his mind, it slipped away,
leaving him to label it a dream, no more.

He slept in the next morning but felt no guilt for

it. There was no pressing need to rise with the sun,
and his men would be just as happy to relax without
his presence. It felt wonderfully sinful to lie under the
warm covers and not rush into the day. The moist air
was restful to him, and the scents of nearby flowers,

unfamiliar to his northern bred senses, were rich and
fragrant.

Several small naps later, he forced himself up,

chastising his own unusual laziness. It was odd for
him to be this lethargic, almost unknown for him to
shirk duty.

He took his time before dressing, noticing with a

faint frown that several small vines had crept under
the edges of his pavilion during the night. He knew

the undergrowth here grew rapidly, but this seemed
beyond the borders of extreme.

He would have to get one of the men to clear

them out…

He shook off the musings, exiting the pavilion

and greeting the sun with his face upturned into its

warmth. It was a beautiful day, cloudless and clear, a
lazy breeze coming from the west. A perfect day for
flight training.

He laughed inwardly at his own eagerness. It had

been several weeks since his last flight. There had
never seemed to be time…

But now the sky beckoned, and his wings half

unfurled as though with their own eagerness.

The men greeted him with their own eagerness

evident in their eyes and posture, and breakfast
seemed to be consumed at twice the normal pace.

They assembled in the field closest to the forest,

and Rylis wasted little time. He ensured their
formation was appropriate before he leapt into the
air, his huge wings bearing his body effortlessly
upwards.

He could hear his men behind him, glanced back

once to ensure their positions had been properly held
even in the chaos of initial flight, then turned to his
own pleasure.

Higher they flew, until they could catch the

thermals and circle within them, gliding higher and

higher, resting flight muscles as the winds themselves
did all the work. Rylis wanted to laugh with the joy of
the moment. Never did he take this for granted, when
he became suspended between earth and sky, child of
both.

When they had achieved the altitude Rylis

wanted, they gathered together and split off into two
factions, Rylis in charge of one and Grannian the
other. Once organized, they were set against each
other in a time-honored contest of supremacy in the
air. Rylis hovered lazily, his wings beating
rhythmically as he watched with wistful longing. His
position of commander meant he was beyond such
things, but he missed the game, wished he could just
join in. The whirl of bodies in midair, striking each
other, wings beating furiously as they strove to
overcome their opponent, cries of anger and laughter
mixing, beckoned him. Their maneuvers were precise

and fluid, their approach often utterly silent. It was all
those things that had made them so deadly in battle
against the Nazarians.

Now it was play, not a weapon in sight, and it

was pleasant to use the training of war for something
that brought laughter and not grief.

Feathers floated downward in random profusion

from the conflict, drifting over the forest below and
disappearing among the great trees. From this
vantage point, Rylis could see the damage done

where the logging had taken place, the bareness of the
land like a scar in the midst of lush beauty. It
saddened him in a way he would not have expected.
From here, even the vastness of the Teeathun looked
smaller, and it showed him how small an area the
Eths were now confined to. They were said to be

ancient creatures, having existed long before Rylis’s
own people, and it seemed sad that they were
reduced to this pathetic scrap of the world, confined,
imprisoned in a last stand against the destruction of
their kind.

He had heard rumors that the forest was fighting

back, expanding into territory further south; hard,
arid land that was fast being abandoned by Melanian
farmers as being unproductive and barren. If it was
so, Rylis could only hope that expansion would ease
the situation for the Eths, though it seemed likely to
only cause more conflict between the two races in the

future.

Once more, Rylis pondered the slow demise of

the energy barrier. If it continued as it had been
during the past thirty or forty years, then it seemed
likely it would soon disappear altogether, and that
would surely mean the utter destruction of the forest
itself and certainly the Eths who relied on it.

Rylis drew a sharp breath at the thought of the

Eths disappearing entirely.

If he was king—was it not possible that he could

pass a law protecting the forest and those that resided
within it?

The thought jolted him, made him realize for the

first time that it was possible for him to make laws in
his own name once he took the crown. It would be

possible for him to make changes near and dear to his
own heart. It was a revelation of sorts.

He pondered on that, staring blindly at the forest,

before loud cheers brought him back to the present.

Rylis’s side had won, as they always did. To

honor their commander was the greatest of incentives
as far as the Elite were concerned, and they looked to
Rylis for commendation of their victory.

He grinned at them and nodded, and they

whooped, wrestling playfully now with the men on
the other side. It degenerated into a mid air melee
without rules or boundaries, and Rylis rolled his eyes

as he looked at Grannian, who merely chuckled at the
men’s’ antics. They needed to let off some steam, and
what better way than this, playing like children did,
rolling and pummeling each other? Rylis could not
resist. He glanced at Grannian then pounced upon
him, his second in command uttering a startled oath
as he suddenly found himself plummeting earthward,
his commander making no effort to halt their fall, a
grin upon that sternly handsome face.

Grannian was more at ease with his commander

now than he had been before, and he spread his own
pale brown wings and twisted away, beginning
evasive maneuvers that would hopefully keep him
out of Rylis’s reach. He banked and stooped, before
veering sharply and trying to gain altitude with swift

beats of his wings.

Mistake…
He sometimes forgot how enormous Rylis’s

wings were, and their sheer power gave the
commander the advantage, especially in gaining
altitude.

Grannian found himself in a headlock, his hair

playfully tousled before he was released again, and he
could only shake his head in resignation. There was
no indignity in defeat against someone of the
commander’s caliber, but still, he would be teased
subtly by the troops for some days, not with

disrespect, but with genuine comradely affection.

They were a close-knit group, their bonding

brought by years of fighting side by side. Grannian
might be only newly promoted to his prestigious
position and still slightly awestruck because of it, but
he had been part of the Elite long before that. He was
still finding his footing in the position, but the troops
were forgiving enough of his few errors. They
respected him and cared for him. They were all closer
than family, with Rylis at the head of it.

The commander gave a signal and banked away,

the men immediately abandoning their play in favor
of following, easily regaining their proper formation.
Grannian resumed his own position, to the
commander’s right and in the slipstream of the giant,
golden wings. The men formed a vee behind them.

There was no haste to their flight. The

commander seemed intent only on viewing the forest
from above, circling its perimeter to view the logging
damage.

* * *

Rylis was content. He had had a moment of play

with his second in command, and his mood was
better, chasing away the bleakness of the previous
day and the events that had spawned it. Up here,
there was nothing but clean air and good company—

none of the foolishness of those down below.

He felt the faintest of tingles along his nerve

ends—and then suddenly he was dropping like a
stone, straight towards the forest itself. Stunned, he
opened his wings, flapping feebly, trying to reorient
himself enough to halt the fall. He could faintly hear
the shouts of his men and knew they would be
stooping in an attempt to catch up to him. The

tingling was becoming overwhelming, and in a brief
moment of clarity, he realized the feeling was
identical to what he had felt when he had pressed the
young Eth’s hands to the ground. This was the forest
itself—and it wanted him.

He fought the edges of panic and brought his

training to the fore, trying to push the insistent energy
away with his own, but it was so immensely powerful
that it was like a child trying to match a giant’s
strength.

Gritting his teeth, he fought his own weakness

and managed to bring his wings to bear enough to at
least halt his tumbling freefall. He had to give his men
time to catch him.

The energy was insistent and was rapidly taking

his senses to the point Rylis felt like he was going to
black out entirely. He fought back as best he could,
beginning to flap his wings more strongly…

“I’ve got you, sir.” Grannian’s worried voice,

harsh with effort, came from his right, along with
strong hands as his second in command came up and
under him, catching his arm, even as another Elite did
the same from the other side. This was a practiced
maneuver, vital for helping injured warriors from the
airborne battlefields.

Rylis immediately folded his wings out of their

way, letting his senses go utterly as blackness
enfolded him.

Chapter Four

He woke with a gasp, jerking upwards to half sit,

sensing…

“It is all right, sir. You’re on the ground.”

Grannian’s soothing voice halted Rylis’s rising fear,
and he slumped back, realizing he was in the bed in
his pavilion.

Rylis took a deep breath, unclenching his fists and

letting his pounding heart begin to calm.

“What in the hells happened?” he questioned

hoarsely, reaching out to touch his second in
command’s arm.

Grannian’s eyebrow rose. “We were hoping you

could tell us, sir. One minute you were fine, the next
you were free-falling, obviously only half conscious.”

“Was anyone else affected?” Rylis half rose again,

and Grannian pushed him back down firmly.

“No. Only you.” The worry in the tone was

evident.

“It was the forest…” Rylis whispered, his eyes

wide with remembrance.

“The forest?” Grannian tilted his head in

question, complete confusion in his expression.

“I felt that energy before, when I placed the

young Eth down and laid his palms upon the ground.
It felt me then, and this time it was like it wanted
me.”

“To kill you?” Grannian sounded like he was

prepared to go out and chop down the forest himself,

tree by tree if necessary.

Rylis tried to remember his impressions, but they

were hazy now, and he felt almost foolish, as though
he had imagined the whole thing.

“I don’t know,” he finally answered slowly.

“Maybe it was something else entirely, and I…”

“I trust your instincts, sir. If that is what you

thought, than that is what it is.” Grannian was
obviously solidly behind his commander.

Rylis could not help grinning a little, and he

patted his second in command’s arm, noting that the
other man’s feathers were bristling with emotion.

“Stand down, Grannian. I am fine. You do not

have to go on a destructive rampage just yet.”

Grannian looked at him askance for a long

moment, then grinned back a little sheepishly, his
wings rustling before they settled.

“I feel a little protective, sir, as do the other men.

You scared the hells out of us all. I have to tell them
you are all right, or no doubt they will come barging
in soon, and you will get no rest at all.”

Rylis put a hand over his eyes, disturbed by how

much his fingers shook. That energy had drained him
almost instantly, with force such as Rylis had never
felt before, and it seemed he was not recovering as
quickly as he would have liked. Had it really been an
attack, or just a random occurrence that he was

unlucky enough to fly into?

“How long have I been out?” he questioned

wearily.

“Four hours, sir. It is early evening now. I can

bring you something to eat if you would like.”

Rylis wanted to be able to get up and prove he

was fine, but the weakness he felt was far too
prevalent for that, and it would be sheer foolishness,
not to mention a bad example, to overexert himself
too soon.

He simply nodded, then caught Grannian’s sleeve

as he went to stand up.

“Put out extra guards tonight.” He shivered as

though instinct were warning him. “I don’t know
why—I am probably just being overcautious—but
something feels wrong.”

Grannian frowned. “Perhaps we should move

back towards the town, sir, if there is a threat from
Teeathun.”

Rylis thought it over, then shook his head.
“If there is to be an attack, we will have to repel it

before it reaches the town itself.”

Grannian nodded finally. “I will put the others on

alert, then.” He ducked his head and exited the
pavilion, leaving Rylis in peace.

He closed his eyes. His head throbbed more the

longer he was awake, and he finally rolled onto his
side and let blessed sleep take the pain away.

* * *

Grannian woke him two hours later, helping

Rylis up so he could sit at his desk to eat. It was eerily
silent outside, the last of the light fading away. The
lanterns in the pavilion cast a warm glow around the
interior and gave an illusion of safety that pushed
away the last of Rylis’s uneasiness.

“I think I am just jumping at shadows,” he told

Grannian sheepishly. “The men will have put in extra
duty for nothing.”

Grannian shook his head, his own expression

tight and wary. “I don’t think so, sir. The men
themselves have felt things, and it is strange; just
today, vines have grown from the edges of the forest,
a distance of several feet in just a few hours.”

Rylis frowned, remembering the vines he had

seen that very morning next to his bed. He mentioned
it to Grannian, who drew his dagger, crossing around

the bed. He searched thoroughly before returning
with a deeper frown.

“They are not there now, sir.”
Rylis felt unease stir within him. Vines did not

just disappear. Perhaps he had been very tired and
had imagined it…

He was doubting himself a lot today.
Grannian searched every inch of the pavilion, but

found nothing to raise concern. “I had the men build
several large fires, sir, so we can see for some
distance. I think we should keep them going tonight.”

Rylis nodded, slumping back in his chair as he

finished eating. His weakness was beginning to alarm
him. Not even serious illness had ever brought him
this low this swiftly.

It seemed his second in command must have

skills in mind reading.

“You will be fine in the morning, sir. Give

yourself a chance. That energy blast, or whatever it
was, hit you hard. Sleep now, and in the morning you
will feel yourself.”

Rylis shot him an irate glance at the coaxing tone,

then shook his head. Grannian was only speaking
sense, and it was time to put aside his own pride in
favor of recovering his lost energy.

He could barely make it back to bed, and he

growled as he lay down, beginning to be thoroughly
aggravated.

Grannian bit back a grin, but Rylis saw the edges

of it and scowled. “Are you going to tuck me in too?”

Grannian’s look was pure innocence. “Would you

like me to, sir?”

Rylis rolled his eyes, but felt his temper dim. “Out

with you. Let a man sleep.”

A crisp salute was his answer. “Yes, sir.

Immediately, sir.”

Rylis would have hurled something at him if he

had just had the strength.

* * *

Rylis did not know what had woken him.
An inkling, a faint sound—he did not know, but

he lay there, eyes wide, feeling his heart pound in his
chest. His hand crept under his pillow to the dagger
that always lay there, trying to keep his breathing

even.

Slowly his eyes skimmed over the interior of his

pavilion, dimly lit by the fires outside.

He checked it, inch by inch, but there was nothing

to be seen, nothing that could have induced the
feeling he had woken with.

He waited, watched, his fear dying down to

reasonable proportions. Without a visual threat, he

was beginning to feel foolish. His instincts whispered
otherwise, but there was nothing…

Perhaps a dream?
He could hear his men outside, talking, and the

sound of a pipe whistle being played softly not far off.
The very normalcy of it all soothed his nerves.

Perhaps the energy blast had played havoc with his
senses more than he realized.

Rustling his wings irritably, he sat up, carefully

inspecting the pavilion once more. There were
shadows where the reflection of the fires could not
reach, but nothing large enough to be a threat.

He sighed and rubbed his face. He was really

losing it. With a mutter of discontent at his own
imaginings, he rose wearily to his feet, highly
displeased to find his strength had still not returned.
Holding on to various pieces of furniture, he made his
way to his desk, where a pitcher of water sat from the

meal last night. He poured some and drank thirstily,
finishing three glasses before he was satisfied enough
to retreat to the bed once more.

Lying down, he closed his eyes and wrapped his

wings around himself, taking comfort in their
embrace. For some reason, he felt chilled and
uncertain in a way he seldom experienced.

Determinedly, he tried to clear his thoughts,

hoping to drift back to sleep. It was imperative that he
gain his strength back swiftly. Certainly he did not

want his men to see him like this. They would only
fuss.

He smiled a little at the thought of their care of

him.

Something, the tiniest of sounds, made him open

his eyes slowly…

It was on him before he could blink.
Something slid across his face with a shocking

swiftness, and when he tried to lunge upwards, his
hands flying up to tug at the thing, it wrapped
around his head, covering his mouth thoroughly.

A vine.
But of a size beyond anything he had ever seen

before. It was as thick as his arm, looping around him
again, pinning his wings tightly against his body so
that he could hardly breathe.

He tried to struggle, tried to bite the thing, but it

was like being a mouse in the coils of an enormous

snake; all his strength was as nothing. He tried to
scream, but the vine merely tightened further across
his mouth, so that the only sound he could make was
a low moan in the back of his throat.

It turned him, continuing to twine around his

struggling form with loop after loop until he was
utterly helpless in its grasp.

He struggled to breathe, panic battering at the

edges of his mind, feeling himself lifted from the bed.
He could see another vine silhouetted against the

canvas wall, and there was a tearing sound as it
somehow sliced through the material with an ease
that showed it must have something sharp at its
disposal.

Then Rylis was lifted out of his pavilion and

found himself in the chill night air, shivering with

shock and fear.

There was a shout, and he shut his eyes in relief.
His men had seen him…they would get him out

of this. Please, get him out of this…

He had never counted himself claustrophobic

before, but he was rapidly leaning towards it, trapped
as he was.

Suddenly he was hoisted high into the air,

beyond the reach of his attacking troops, as more of
the vine slithered forward—or was it different vines,
many of them rather than one?

He could not tell.

The vine that held him retreated while the rest

guarded it, lashing out at the men. Rylis could see
huge thorns bristling from the greenery, and he
struggled harder as he realized the danger his men
were in from the invader.

It took some time for him to focus on his own

danger; the fact that he was being swiftly borne to the
forest, and there was nothing his men could do. They
could not get past the attacking end of the vine.

Several tried flying to bypass it, but the vine

simply looped back and hovered over Rylis,
preventing rescue from the air.

It was so very sentient that Rylis felt fear

beginning to overwhelm his mind. This was no
accident, no random act. He was the target; to what

end he could not imagine.

He saw a flicker of light out of the corner of his

eye and realized they had reached Teeathun, the
weakened energy barrier now almost on top of them.
The vine quickened its pace, turning Rylis so all he
could see was its coils, cut off from the outside world.

He struggled for breath helplessly, unable to

move enough to even cast a last glance at his men.

A mild shock passed through his body; they had

passed the barrier. He was within Teeathun itself, and
the knowledge chilled him utterly. Whatever the vine
wanted with him, he could not imagine this ending

pleasantly.

Even as the thought passed through his mind, the

vine suddenly shifted. Rylis was rolled, and it began
to shift its grip upon him. Smaller tendrils fastened
themselves around his wrists and ankles, others
wrapped around his wings, preventing them from
interfering.

Disoriented and reeling from the swiftness of it

all, Rylis found himself suddenly dropping to earth.
The vine halted his fall just short of the ground, then

pinned him down upon it, stopping all motion except
to press down further when he tried to squirm out
from under its weight.

He finally subsided, blackness hovering around

the edges of his consciousness as he fought for air.
The ground was damp under his bare shoulders, and

he was grateful for the thin covering of his sleeping
pants.

He began to feel the faint pulsation of energy; the

same energy that had attacked him the day before.

Rylis thrashed again, trying to arch his body

away from the prickling advance that slowly engulfed
his body. The alien energy surged along nerve ends,
exploring every inch of his form, then began to
merge—at his groin.

His eyes widened in horror as he began to harden

in response. Dear gods…what in the hells was this?

He actually whimpered; a mixture of terror and

reluctant pleasure overcoming his last reserves of
strength.

Slumping in the vine’s grip, he prayed for his

troops’ arrival, the last hope he had.

He gasped as the weight of the vines suddenly

lifted from him, coils sliding from his body. It still
gagged him, still held him firmly to the ground by his
arms and legs, but he could suddenly see—and
breathe.

Closing his eyes, he dragged in deep breaths

through his mouth, almost weeping for the joy of air
in his lungs once more. When he opened his eyes
again, he froze utterly, blinking in shock, wondering
if he was hallucinating.

His Eth stood over him.

Rylis began to shake, his eyes silently begging for

release. Thank the gods…

His relief began to wane as the Eth slowly knelt

between Rylis’s outstretched legs, his hands gently
tracing over the sleeping pants, his touch like fire,
shocking after the chill of the earth. A long claw
worked its way upwards to the waistband, then with
little effort, sliced through it and then drew
downwards, parting the material effortlessly.

Rylis froze, then tried to shake his head,

wondering if he could somehow have made a
mistake. This could not be his Eth. His Eth would

never…

The Eth looked up, met his eyes with remorse

clear in his expression, but he never stopped his
motions.

Rylis was sure he was trapped in a nightmare; his

most treasured childhood memory turning into
something of horror. Surely this could not be real.

Fury rose as the material fell away utterly, and he

was exposed and vulnerable. He thrashed and cursed

behind his gag, trying to throw off the touch that
betrayed his trust.

The golden eyes roved over his form, but there

was more than lust in their depths. The touch was
gentle, and was that apology deep within them? Rylis
did not know or care at that moment; he only knew

that there was threat here, something he had never
dreamed of when he had protected the Eths. Was this
what they were? No better than the worst of
Melanians? Disappointment and betrayal burned in
his chest. He had been such a fool to believe…

Perhaps they were no more than animals, after

all.

The long fingers traced over Rylis’s body, then

slowly curled around his hardened shaft.

Rylis squeezed his eyes shut in utter shame. The

energy refused to let his revulsion kill his erection,
and the heat of the Eth’s touch made shudders of

need ripple through Rylis’s body.

The Eth began to speak, the tone as beautiful as

Rylis remembered, but he shut it out, fury making his
head pound with pain.

The voice continued, its rhythm sounding

ceremonial, powerful, as though the Eth called upon
deities in his actions.

Rylis fought as the vines began to move once

more, pulling his knees up, pulling his legs farther

apart so he was shamefully exposed to those golden
eyes.

Exhausted, he slumped back, refusing to look at

the creature. He refused to name it more than that.

Something wet probed at the entrance to his

body, and he jerked, shocked. The vines held him

firm as what was obviously the Eth’s tongue lapped
at him, moistening him, before beginning to force its
way within his entrance. Never had he allowed
another within the sanctity of his body. He had been
the master of every encounter, never able to trust
enough to allow this most intimate of contacts.

Now he was held helpless as the choice was taken

from him.

The tongue probed deeply, then farther than

could have been imagined. Eth tongues must be a
whole lot longer than Melanian tongues, Rylis
thought wildly. His entrance stretched reluctantly,

but then that tongue probed his prostate, and Rylis
saw stars. He screamed behind the vine, eyes wide
with shock. He had heard about this, seen it in his few
lovers, but never experienced it himself.

It was sensation of such intensity that it was

difficult to tell if it was pleasure or pain that made his
body jerk without his input. His muscles spasmed,
and his shaft grew hard enough to be painful in the
Eth’s gentle grip.

That hand never stopped its relentless pumping,

and Rylis’s eyes rolled back as orgasm began to pull
up his balls…

The Eth stopped, pulling away his hand as he

took hold of Rylis’s hips. The vines let up for the
briefest of moments, and Rylis’s lower body was

pulled up onto the Eth’s lap, the huge erection he had
seen only briefly poised for entry.

The vines retightened, holding him firmly in

place.

The Eth stopped chanting, and Rylis turned his

head to look at him, his entire body shaking as he
awaited the next move.

The Eth took one of his claws and pierced his own

left hand, blood spurting immediately from the deep
wound. Then he took the same claw and poised it
above Rylis’s right hand.

Rylis tried to close his fingers, tried to yank the

hand free of the vines, but both motions were useless
in the end.

The claw, bright with blood, plunged into Rylis’s

palm and out the other side.

Rylis screamed at the agony that coursed through

his hand, his voice choking off as the Eth pushed
within him at the same moment. Long fingers
entwined with his, pressing the bleeding wounds
together, even as the huge member within him began
to press deeper.

Rylis screamed again, trying to twist away, trying

to expel the intruder within his very body. The Eth
made a soothing noise in his throat and laid his other
hand on Rylis’s cheek.

Tears of rage and pain coursed down Rylis’s

cheeks, and he refused to stop fighting until he felt

the Eth rest against him, fully embedded within his
body.

Then he slumped down, shaking, opening tear-

wet eyes to glare at the Eth.

To his amazement, there were answering tears in

those golden eyes, and a deep pain shone in their
depths.

That hand smoothed over the tears on Rylis’s

cheeks, and the Eth spoke, the tone remorseful,
almost desperate, as though attempting to explain
something.

Rylis stared, wishing he could understand,

wishing he could make plain how angry he was, how
much he hated—

The Eth moved, and Rylis gasped. The pain in his

hand overrode the pain within him, and there was
only a sense of fullness and incredible pressure. The
Eth watched him, stroking his face, before pressing
back deeply, rubbing over that spot that made Rylis
writhe upon the thick shaft mindlessly.

The Eth made a sound of encouragement then

began to slowly thrust, watching Rylis intently as he

made adjustments to the angle so that he struck that
spot every second or third thrust.

The pleasure engendered made Rylis halfway

forget the pain of his hand, though he could feel
blood steadily flowing between their palms to the
earth below. Dazedly, he stared up at his captor, his

emotions so jumbled and tangled that he could make
no sense of them. Shock was foremost, anger and
betrayal mixed next, then confusion. Was this really
his Eth or just a lookalike? It had been so many years,
maybe it was someone completely different. Surely
his Eth would never…

In his heart he knew.
The hand on his cheek slowly drew away, then

wrapped around Rylis’s shaft, beginning to pump in
time with the thrusts that rocked Rylis body upon the
earth. Deeper and harder—Rylis fought his own
body, his own reactions, feeling like he flew higher

and higher, energy pulsing like another heart in his
body. His breath caught and held as a final thrust
pressed over his prostate dead on.

His body arched as much as it could, a scream

caught in his throat as stars exploded behind his eyes,
everything going white for long moments. He could
faintly feel the pulses of seed within him as the Eth
cried out, frozen in his own orgasm, then Rylis’s own
shaft shot spurts of hot come across his stomach and
chest.

Rylis could not move, could not even

comprehend what had just happened.

He moaned softly as the Eth began to pull out

with gentle care. Once the intruder had withdrawn,
he could feel the hot, wet trickle of seed dripping
from his body.

The Eth scooped some onto his free hand, his own

breath none too steady as he began to chant again,
even as he reached for where Rylis’s seed was cooling
upon his chest and belly.

Rylis managed to open his eyes enough to watch

as the Eth mixed the two together, then lifted their
pierced hands upwards, so that he could press the
mixed seed into the blood that soaked the earth.

There was a flash of light so bright that Rylis was

blinded for long moments, and he squeezed his eyes
shut in reaction. The earth seemed to heave under
him as though it shook, and he dazedly wondered

whether he was imagining it all.

The vines fell away completely, and hands took

his face between them, a gentle kiss landing upon his
lips.

He lay there motionless, stunned, not truly

believing he was free.

Then he struggled upwards, pushing away the

Eth with violent strength. Though the creature was
much larger and stronger than him, it did not fight

back, did not resist as Rylis pushed himself
backwards, half crawling until his back hit a tree.

He huddled there, panting, shaking, his eyes

fixed upon the Eth.

It knelt where it was, watching him with sad eyes.
Rylis cradled his wounded hand against his chest,

then shot a look to his right, realizing with shock that
the barrier was now glistening as bright as sunlight,
pulsing with power.

Oh gods. He stumbled to his feet, ignoring his

nakedness, ignoring the pain that spasmed through
his body, and headed for the barrier. He had to get
out, he had to—

Hands caught him, pinned his arms and wings

down when he tried to fight back.

He struggled and swore, his whole body straining

toward the freedom so close by. All his martial
training was as nothing against the strength and size

that held him.

The Eth stooped, still holding him, to pick

something up. He held it up so Rylis could see it, and
Rylis stopped moving in confusion.

The Eth was trying to tell him something, but a

rock—what did that mean?

With a surge of muscle, the Eth threw the rock at

the barrier. There was a flash, and pieces of the rock
flew back at them, one stinging Rylis’s cheek.

He froze in shock.

That could have been him.
That was what the Eth was trying to tell him. The

barrier was now impassable, and it would have been
instant death to touch it.

He slumped in the strong hold, beginning to

shake again. It was all too much. He stared blindly at

the barrier. Beyond lay his world, his men, his life.

Now he was trapped on this side, among Eths

who had no reason to want a Melanian in their midst.

He did not think his death would be swift, nor

merciful.

Chapter Five

Rylis lay limply in the Eth’s hold as the tall, naked

creature walked with sure and swift stride through
the immense trees that towered over them to
disappear among intertwined branches. Now that
they had left the otherworldly light of the barrier, it
was shadowed and mysterious here, the sunlight far
above, unable to pierce the thick foliage.

The Eth carried him without any perceivable

effort, and Rylis resented that in some far corner of
his mind that still functioned. The rest was in shock,
so that he lay quiescent in his captor’s arms, head
resting against a hard chest, numb and without
thought of struggle or escape.

The question of what to do now was beyond his

capabilities at the moment.

The thought intruded that this was the second

time he had been kidnapped, first by the Nazarians
and now this. He could almost laugh about it, albeit
hysterically. What was it about him that had incited

these attacks? The Nazarians had been clear enough.
Rylis had been the Melanian heir, and holding him
kept the whole country of Melan at bay. Simple.

But what possible need could the Eths have for

him? It was quite clear now that the sexual taking and
blood sacrifice upon the forest floor had been some
kind of ceremony designed to raise the barrier back to
its former glory.

But why him? Would any Melanian have done?

But if that were so, surely the Eths would have done
this long ago rather than endure the predations upon
their beloved forest and the attacks upon their people.

Why had they waited until now? It made no

sense.

He closed his eyes briefly, trying to still his

thoughts. He was giving himself a pounding
headache and solving nothing.

When he opened his eyes again, he stared up at

the face above him, remembering how this Eth had
held him like this so long ago. Then he had felt safe;
now he was such a mix of hatred and anger and loss

that he could not even speak, could not even begin to
identify how he felt.

He wished he could return to that child and be

safe in these arms again, never knowing they could
bring pain.

The Eth held him so that Rylis’s wings were

wrapped around him, so that their heat and the
warmth of the Eth’s body kept Rylis from being cold,
for there was little warmth in the shadows beneath
the great trees. The pale skin he lay against was

pristine, with none of the bruises and wounds he
could remember—there was not even a scar to be
seen. The strong, narrow jaw above him was set,
indicating the Eth was upset with something, or
angry, and the full lips were drawn into a thin line.
Rylis had forgotten how golden his eyes were, the

pupils just faintly oval instead of round.

Long, razor-sharp claws lay curled over Rylis’s

shoulder and under his knees, holding him as gently
as though he might break with the slightest
mischance.

He grimaced bitterly. Surely it was a little late to

worry about that. The harm had been done.

Although he could not shake the impression that

the Eth had not wanted to do it, had not wished to
harm him. The thought intruded that if they had
understood each other’s language, it would have been
done more gently.

Rylis heaved a long sigh. He ached in every bone,

and he was sure bruises covered his body. He
probably looked exactly like the Eth had so many
years ago. He blinked at the thought. Was this done
in revenge for that long ago rape?

He stared up at the narrow face, wishing he

understood, wishing that this had never happened,
that he could still remember his Eth and feel the
warmth of that long ago connection.

He hid his face below the edge of his wing. There

was no going back from this. Not ever.

* * *

They travelled in silence for a long time, though

Rylis could not have said exactly how long. It turned
into a dream where time held no meaning. It could
have been minutes or hours later that they came at
last to a dwelling built onto and around three massive
trees. If it was a home, it was a large one, but it was
hard to tell because it melded so perfectly into its
surroundings that one could have passed within feet
of it and not noticed its presence.

Rylis merely eyed it with numb acceptance. It

made as much sense as anything else did. Even his
taking was beginning to seem dim and unreal, and if
not for the throb in his hand and in his nether regions,

he would have thought it had all been a nightmare.

The Eth called out something, and the door

opened, revealing a young male Eth, whose eyes
widened as he saw Rylis.

He blurted something, and the Eth holding Rylis

replied with a hint of exasperation in his tone as he
ducked to enter the low doorframe. Inside was
warmth and light and beauty.

Rylis blinked in wonder.
Everything was wood, carved and very aged by

the look, each piece lovingly sanded and shaped,
made into furniture or lining the walls. Each had its
own color and shading, its own grain and beauty. It
was like an eternal tribute to trees that had fallen. The

home—for home it must be with such coziness—felt
peaceful, its energy harmonious in a way that Rylis
had never experienced before. The room they had
entered was high and conical, its roof twisting
upward and opening far above, obviously a release
for the smoke of the fireplace that crackled at the far
end of the circular floor. The Eth who held him did
not pause, so Rylis could only crane his neck to try to
take it all in, a feeling of wonder chasing away his
inner shadows for brief moments. Was he the first
Melanian to ever be within an Eth’s home?

It was so very much more than he would have

expected. Perhaps in his own way he was as foolish
and racist as the other Melanians, for he had expected
something primitive; a simple hut or lean-to, certainly
nothing of this beauty and complexity.

He was carried through an impressive, carved

archway into a hallway beyond that seemed to lead to
other rooms. They passed through another doorway,
then Rylis was gently set down upon a bed. A proper,
honest to goodness bed, not a simple pallet or pile of
straw as he’d half expected.

A bed…
As soon as the arms slid away, Rylis thrust

himself backwards, coming into a crouch upon the
bed, hands out and spread slightly away from his
body, ready for combat. His wings mantled around
him, displaying aggression. The bastard would not

touch him that way again.

Instead the Eth stepped back, palms up in the

universal sign of peaceful intentions.

Rylis watched him with hard, wary eyes, not

trusting anything or anyone by that point.

The Eth eyed him with a sort of despair etched

upon that alien face, looking tired and worn and
cradling his own injured hand as though it pained
him greatly.

Finally, he sighed, obviously coming to a decision

and gestured to the whole room and then at Rylis.

Rylis frowned, his own anger waning as he

attempted to understand. The sense of threat had
faded utterly, something he could not understand.
This creature had taken him, used him in some sort of
barbaric ceremony, yet…

The gesture seemed to indicate that the room, all

of it, was Rylis’s to use, yet that made no sense.
Having taken him once, would the Eth not expect to
be able to use him again, unwilling or not?

The creature spoke, the beauty of it making Rylis

shiver, an unwilling thrill passing over his nerve

ends. He tried to focus upon body language instead.
It would be to his advantage to learn to read his
captor, if he was to escape.

The shake of the Eth’s head seemed to indicate

some frustration at the inability to communicate
properly, before it gestured to Rylis’s pierced hand.

Rylis stared at it in incomprehension, and the

creature finally heaved a sharp breath, perhaps in
exasperation, although it did not seem to be aimed at
Rylis himself.

It turned and disappeared through the door they

had come through, and Rylis subsided, shaking his
wings before folding them restlessly against his back.
There seemed no need at the moment to be defensive,
and he needed to conserve his strength—little good
though that strength seemed to be against this
particular opponent.

He finally sat down on the bed, feeling pain begin

to overwhelm his senses now that fear was subsiding
to manageable levels. His hand throbbed
unmercifully, and his backside… He tried to tuck his
legs up under him to ease the pressure.

The Eth appeared again, and Rylis hardly had the

energy to care at that point. He just wanted to sleep,
to fade away into oblivion and hope that when he
woke, this would all have been a horrible nightmare
and he would be back in his pavilion, shaking his
head over the complexity of dreams.

The Eth approached him slowly, holding his

hands out to show what he carried, as though Rylis
were the animal and fractious with pain.

The irony was not lost on Rylis.
The items seemed to be simple bandages, water,

and a pot of what appeared to be ointment. Nothing

at all terrifying. Still, he could not help the tensing of
his body; no amount of rationality was going to erase
what had happened between them.

The Eth held out its hand, showing a similar

bandage wrapped around its own wound and
gesturing to Rylis’s pierced palm.

After an initial hesitation, Rylis held out the

injured hand. There was no reason to assume the
creature would do anything but bandage the wound,
and if it could make the pain go away, then Rylis was
quite willing to have it do so. He needed to be hale
and whole if he was to escape, and foolish pride was

not going to gain him any advantage.

The Eth smiled, a fearsome display of sharp teeth,

a look of relief in those golden eyes. Perhaps he had
assumed that Rylis would fight against treatment.

He took the proffered hand with the utmost

gentleness, using a small cloth to run water over it,
cleaning away the dirt that encrusted the bloody
wound.

Rylis winced, biting his lip to prevent the cry of

pain that wanted utterance.

The Eth glanced up at his face, humming

soothingly in a manner that made Rylis relax just
slightly, despite his own wariness.

The Eth spoke softly then, and the tone indicated

some sort of healing invocation as he cleansed as
gently as was possible.

Rylis’s arm shook with the pain, and the Eth

braced it upon its thigh as it bent over the wound, its
intent expression indicating a fair knowledge of
healing. Was it perhaps some sort of shaman or
mystic among its people? Certainly it would seem so
by its ability to restore the barrier, but had it been
acting alone in creating that?

If indeed it had been this Eth alone—Rylis could

not imagine the power it must possess to be able to
raise a barrier of the magnitude needed to fully
protect Teeathun. That thought led to his men,
probably frantic by now. He remembered the rock

and how it had exploded on contact.

Surely his men would not be so foolish.
Rylis swallowed hard, trying to repress the

desperate desire to return to the barrier, to find a way
back to his own world.

At the moment, there was no hope of that. He

would have to find a way, but that would have to be
by studying his captor and finding a way to force him
to return Rylis. Or perhaps another Eth would have
similar powers. Rylis could only pray that a return

was even possible. If this Eth had created the barrier,
then he should be fully aware of its abilities. He had
made no attempt to find a way through for Rylis.
Either that meant he did not want Rylis to leave, or
more likely that there was no way through. No way
in, no way out.

Rylis thrust the thought aside impatiently. He

would be self-defeating if he continued to harp on the
idea of impossibility. Anything was possible. He just
had to find a way.

The Eth carefully coated the wound with the thick

ointment he had brought, turning Rylis’s hand gently
to ensure every part of the wound was smeared with
it. Then he carefully and competently bandaged the
hand with a swiftness that held the ring of experience.

Surely he was a healer.
When he was done, the Eth carefully placed

Rylis’s hand upon the bed, turning to clean up the

supplies he had brought. He glanced at Rylis and
gestured to his mouth. It took Rylis a few moments to
realize that he was being questioned if he was
hungry.

Surprisingly, he was.
The Eth nodded, taking the supplies with him as

he exited the room.

Rylis sat where he was, trying to make sense of

things. The Eth was not behaving like a captor at all.
Instead he had the manner of a very apologetic host.

He did not seem to look upon Rylis with lust—he just
seemed concerned that Rylis be treated for his wound
and that he eat.

None of this fit what Rylis would have expected.
He rubbed his brow with weary fingers. It

seemed like days since he had been taken by the

vines, yet surely it had only been a few hours at most.
It had been very early morning when the attack had
occurred but here in this shadowed, mysterious
forest, it was impossible to tell what time of day it
was. Not night, that seemed the only surety at the
moment.

He looked around the room, appreciating the

beauty of the warm wood paneling that seemed to
glow in the light of the candles that ringed the room
itself. It felt so—peaceful, so quiet here, something
Rylis was not used to. He was always surrounded by
hordes of people, and privacy and peace were hard-

won commodities in his world.

Here, although the house had seemed truly

massive on the outside, there seemed to be only the
younger Eth and the healer. Rylis decided he would
call the older Eth that. It seemed appropriate, from
what he had seen, and he was definitely not Rylis’s
Eth any longer. That thought brought a pang of
sorrow, a feeling he had lost something precious from
the past, but he subdued the grief with harsh
memories of what had occurred at the barrier.

He looked up as the healer returned, a tray of

food held carefully in his large hands. He placed it on
a small table near a window and looked up at Rylis
with an almost shy expression, gesturing to the food
before stepping back to a respectable distance.

Rylis had to steady himself on the bedposts once

he stood, and the healer made the smallest movement
to help. He stopped again almost immediately as if
realizing his aid would not be appreciated or
accepted.

Rylis was proud he made it to the table, where he

sank into the huge wooden chair with a sigh of relief,
albeit with a bit of annoyance at the fact that the chair
was so huge he felt like a child upon it. The Eth
pushed the tray a little closer, but maintained his
distance, a bit of courtesy that enforced Rylis’s
impression that this Eth seemed empathetic and
gentle, a direct contrast to what he had perpetrated at

the barrier.

It was all a mystery too great to be solved on an

empty stomach.

Rylis found himself consuming the food with

great gusto, though he would have thought his
experiences would have left him without appetite.
Instead, it was as though he could not get enough
sustenance within his body. He was absolutely
ravenous.

He recognized very little of the food upon the

plates, but after initial cautious tasting, he found all of
them to be easily equivalent to anything the palace
had to offer. They seemed to be vegetables and were
simply cooked, many of them raw, but all were
flavorful and filling. He wondered with vague

interest how such things could be grown in the
darkness of the forest, especially since there also
seemed to be bread of some sort.

When at last he was replete, he sat back with a

soft groan. He could not remember ever having eaten
so much at a single sitting.

It had to be something to do with the events at the

barrier and the energies that had gone through him,
perhaps draining his own strength. Certainly his
body seemed to believe it required immediate
replenishing.

The Eth gestured tentatively to the bed, his

concerned expression containing nothing of lust,
something that continued to confuse Rylis, though he
could only be greatly relieved.

When he stood, his legs buckled under him, and a

large hand came to steady him, the healer looking
tentative as if he expected Rylis to explode at the
contact.

Rylis stared into those golden eyes, searching for

some sort of reassurance before he nodded.

The Eth swept him up with so little effort that

Rylis felt again like a child, then he was gently set
down upon the bed and the covers pulled up over
him.

The healer hovered for long moments, looking as

though he desperately wished to speak, wished to

convey some message, but in the end he only shook
his head in frustration and gestured to the candles,
obviously asking if Rylis wished them extinguished
so he could sleep.

Rylis shook his head, finding he was afraid to be

in the dark in this place of strangeness. He scowled at
the thought. He was the commander of the Melanian
Army. He was not afraid.

The Eth nodded, and after a last, long look at

Rylis, stepped out the door and closed it softly in his
wake.

Rylis stared at the doorway, unblinking, waiting

for the Eth’s return, then he wrapped his wings
around him and let exhaustion, both physical and
mental, take him into a troubled sleep.

He woke to the smell of cooking food wafting

through an open window, and it took some moments
of disorientation before he remembered where he
was. He sat up then, running fingers through his hair,
wincing at the feeling of dirt still clinging to the

strands. Perhaps he could find a way to bathe. He
needed desperately to feel clean again, to wash away
the events of the previous day—or however long ago
it had been.

He slid from the massive bed to stand upon the

cool stone floor, only then remembering his own

nudity.

Rylis rustled his wings in discomfort before

noticing a pair of thin pants draped over a nearby
chair with what looked like a long shirt.

He disliked to dress feeling so dirty, but seeing

little recourse and not desiring to wander the halls
naked, he donned the clothing, growling a little as he
had to roll up the pant legs to even walk in them. The
shirt itself was perhaps more a tunic, all one piece
with a tie at the neckline, slits upon the back for
wings. It also hung on him, the sleeves far past his
own hands. He rolled them up also, irritated at this

indication of his lack of height in this strange world.
Never had he endured such a difference since he had
left childhood behind, and it was unnerving in the
extreme.

He found no footwear, so he padded barefoot to

the door, hesitating as he reached for the handle, half
expecting it to be locked.

It was not.
It swung open easily, soundlessly, on what

looked like wooden hinges, no hint of metal evident.

To his left was a door leading to a small

washroom, and he took the opportunity to relieve
himself and at least wash his hands and face. The
water seemed to come from the roof of the house
itself, and the sanitary facilities seemed as advanced
as anything in Melan.

Rylis hesitated once he gained the hallway, then

he heard Eth voices to his right and headed in that
direction, drawn by the sound of that fluid language.
He recognized the healer’s voice, and the second
sounded perhaps like the young male he had met
briefly before. He could detect no other indication of
other Eths, and the doors of the rooms along the hall
were open, revealing many bedrooms, all of them
sterile and empty with no sign of occupation. This
place was so massive. How could there be only two
Eths in residence?

The smell of cooking grew stronger. Rylis paused

just within an ornate wooden archway, warily
watching the scene before him.

The healer was bent down, adding what looked

like peat logs to a fire under a brick cooking top.
Several clay vessels sat upon the brick surface, some
low and wide, rather like frying pans, others higher
like pots. Food was obviously cooking in them; Rylis
could hear something sizzling, and steam was rising
from several of the pots.

The younger Eth sat on a wooden stool, legs

swinging, chattering away to the older Eth, gesturing
with his hands in a way so reminiscent of some of the
younger troops that Rylis could only stare.

Everything was so foreign and yet…there was

nothing here that could possibly be construed as

animalistic. Nothing. It was so cultured—different,
yes, but still cultured and showing an advancement
that nobody would ever have believed, not even Rylis
himself. Language, architecture, healing—what else
was here to discover? When he returned, nobody in
Melan would ever believe him. Even he was having
trouble truly soaking in what he was seeing as truth.
It was like some type of wild dream, and he kept
expecting to wake.

If only he could.
He clamped his wings tightly against his

shoulders, feeling a great discomfort as the healer

finally seemed to sense his presence and looked up.

He smiled at Rylis and gestured him in, causing

the young Eth to stop talking and turn on the stool,
wide eyes taking in the newcomer.

The sudden silence was unnerving, and Rylis had

to force himself to step into what was obviously the
kitchen. There was a huge table to the left in what
seemed like a vast dining area, something that would
easily seat twenty people or more, yet only three
places were set for eating.

The healer turned back to the brick stove,

reaching for wooden plates and deftly serving out
food with the skill of a professional cook. He handed
one full plate to the young Eth, who edged around
Rylis on the way to the table, his fascinated eyes
never leaving Rylis’s form. The healer handed

another plate to Rylis, who accepted it with a sense of
unreality at the sheer normalcy. He turned to the
table, uncertain of which place he should take. Finally
he took the chair directly across from the younger
Eth, leaving the head of the table to the healer, who
joined them minutes later with his own plate and a
large pitcher of what looked like some sort of juice.

Rylis sat stiffly as the healer performed what

seemed like a prayer, short and heartfelt by the look
of both Eth’s serious demeanors, then it was time to
eat.

The adolescent finally took his eyes off Rylis and

bent to his plate, eating with the true absorption of
the young, mowing through the food with a single-
minded focus. He was much shorter than the healer,
and his body was slender and almost thin. His wings
were huge though, larger than the older Eth’s, and
were gloriously blue, every shade imaginable in a
swirl of color and muted designs.

The healer did not look at Rylis at all, only tended

to his own meal with a delicate precision of manners
that would not have been out of place in the Melanian

palace itself. Certainly there was no barbarism here,
whatever might exist in the rest of Teeathun. In fact,
many of Kiell’s courtiers could take lessons in
etiquette from this Eth.

Rylis dropped his fascinated gaze and looked at

the food somewhat blindly. This was completely

surreal. Here he was, in Teeathun itself, eating with
two Eths, one of whom was his captor and the very
one who had taken him unwilling. Should he not be
more fearful, more rebellious? If only this entire
situation did not seem so much like a dream—or
nightmare.

There seemed so little to fight. The Eth himself

seemed so far from Rylis’s idea of a barbaric captor
that he was having trouble even connecting the two.
One had hurt him. This one seemed quiet and
reserved and had the air of a healer, to whom
harming anything would be repugnant.

How were the two the same?
He wished with all his heart that he could

understand their language, find out why and how…

Rylis swallowed hard, feeling again the

strangeness, his isolation from these beings and their
world, so close and yet so very far from his own. In
silence, he began to eat, musing over his own lack of
fear. He was angry—deeply, truly angry—but his fear
seemed to be missing in the Eth’s presence, when he
would have assumed the opposite.

Something in him seemed to recognize that this

being did not wish him harm, despite its initial
actions.

He took a deep breath, trying to bring his

whirling thoughts under some kind of control. This
was all just crazy. His own mind was crazy. This

being had taken Rylis’s body against his will, for
gods’ sakes.

Maybe this truly was just a bad dream.
The food certainly seemed awfully real for a

dream. Just like his meal of the night before, it seemed
composed of several different root vegetables, a
mixture of nuts and some extremely delicious green
leafed salad with a dressing that was beyond words.
The wooden mugs held juice from some fruit Rylis
had never experienced before, but it was wonderful,
refreshing and tart on the tongue.

There had been no meat the night before, and

there was none now. Whether that was normal or
simply a sign that they were low on supplies was
hard to tell.

Still, it was hard to bemoan the lack, for

everything else was so filling and so decadently full
of taste that Rylis could quite simply qualify this as
the best food he had ever eaten, bar none.

The chefs at Kiell’s palace would die of shame.
The silence around the table as the three of them

ate was not uncomfortable. It seemed right to have

such a quiet time over the meal. Instead of finding
this just another degree of strangeness, Rylis found
the peace calming, his mind slowly becoming capable
of true thought, when before there had been only
chaotic impressions that helped not at all.

When they had all finished, the young Eth quietly

gathered up the plates and mugs and headed into the
kitchen, where he began washing them in a short,
round, wooden tub.

The healer sat back, and this time his golden eyes

came to rest directly on Rylis, a frown of what seemed
like concern on his brow, as though Rylis were an
issue he had to solve.

The attention made Rylis stiffen immediately, and

he met the look with what he hoped was calm
determination.

It was best to get down to the matter at hand.

Rylis pointed in what he hoped was the direction of

the barrier and then to himself.

The Eth seemed to have no trouble

understanding, but Rylis’s heart sank at the
sympathetic look that immediately came over the
other’s face.

That did not bode well.
The healer shook his head, and Rylis felt

frustrated fury begin to rise despite his best attempts.
His wings bristled, a clear and present sign of his
anger that would be hard to miss.

The Eth sighed long and low at some inner

thought, then tentatively extended his hand, much
like the blue-haired captive Eth had done.

Rylis flinched back, lip drawing up into a snarl.
“Don’t touch me, you perverted bastard!” he spat,

hands curling into fists, ready to fight.

The Eth recoiled, his face frozen into an

expression of despair, before he abruptly rose and
walked away, his tall form disappearing silently
through one of the doorways.

Rylis drew a deep, shaking breath. The

disappearance of his source of anger left him bereft
and with a sense that he had done something vile,
though that made no sense at all. He was the victim
here, wasn’t he?

“He would have told you what you wanted to

know, if you had given him half a fucking chance.”

Chapter Six

Rylis whipped around, staring in disbelief at the

young Eth, who was leaning back against the stone
countertop, arms folded over his chest, golden eyes
cold upon Rylis.

“You speak—Melanian?” Rylis could not have

been more amazed than if one of his horses had
displayed the gift of speech.

“Not through fucking choice, I can tell you that,”

the young Eth sneered. He jerked his head towards
the doorway. “Tamrin knows I can, but he would
never ask me to use the language, knowing what you
bastards did to me, and how those memories affect
me.”

Rylis finally closed his gaping jaw, realizing his

own prejudice was greater than he could have
imagined. He had said they were more than animals,
and yet he did not believe they had the capability to
learn other languages?

There was a fraught silence, before Rylis finally

gestured vaguely toward where the healer had
disappeared.

“That is Tamrin?” A strange thrill of discovery

made him shiver, as though the name held
significance somewhere in his mind.

Tamrin…
“He is. Not that you care.” The young male

muttered something under his breath that sounded

like cursing.

Rylis glared back. “Do you have any idea what he

did to me?”

The Eth shrugged, hatred gleaming from under

the fall of hair that half hid his eyes. “Do you have
any idea what your kind did to him? Even before
your own father raped him, he was passed around
like he was not even a being, but merely a thing.” The
young male choked for a moment before his glare
resumed with more force. “As to me, I learned your
filthy language because I was captured as a small
child. I do not even understand my own culture, can

only speak my own language in the most basic of
ways. I was raped every day—” Tears rose to his eyes,
which made the hatred burn more fiercely. “—and it
sure as the hells was not with any care, like Tamrin
took with you.”

Rylis found himself on his feet, wings half

extended, fury surging in an unstoppable wave.
“Don’t you dare defend him! What he did! If you
experienced the same, you should understand…”

“I understand, all right. I understand that this is

all your people’s fault. Maybe you are not
individually at fault, but Melanians are. Look to them
if you want to hate. They caused this. They brought
their filth and their tainted energies into our forest.
Tamrin was given no choice but to re-create the

barrier if our people were to survive. If you think he
is proud of what he did to you, you are dead wrong.
He fought against—” He cut off abruptly and took a
deep breath. “He is a healer. To harm gives him pain
beyond imagining, especially since it was you…” He
stopped again. “He has gone through enough, and
though he can’t find a way to get you out of here right
now, he is trying, and I am going to help any way I
can.” He leaned forward, hatred rolling off his
contorted expression. “I will do anything to get your
ass out of here, because you are not worthy of him
and never will be. The sooner your filthy energy

leaves here, leaves him, the better off we will all be.”
Long claws curved threateningly. “You keep your
fucking mouth shut, and if you hurt him more than
you have…” The claws slashed. “I would kill you in a
heartbeat. Remember that—Melanian.” The Eth
pushed away from the counter and stalked from the
kitchen.

Rylis stood motionless, trying to make sense of

what he had been told. It was not entirely a surprise,
since his own instincts had been clamoring much the

same thing. But the part about it giving Tamrin more
pain because it had been Rylis…that made little sense,
unless the Eth had valued their past together as much
as Rylis had.

The thought made his heart jump in a fashion

completely unlike his normal, practical self.

He looked around the now silent kitchen, shaking

his wings and folding them uneasily across his back,
before deciding to follow through the exit Tamrin had
taken earlier.

It was brighter outside—not much, not enough to

equal the world outside the forest, but light enough to
see easily. Rylis stood outside the house for some
time, breathing in the scent of the forest and listening
to the sounds of life that seemed so prevalent here.

The sigh of the wind through the branches high

above was a constantly shifting background to all

other sound. Birdsong, diverse and layered, came
from all directions, and occasionally the tiny singers
could be seen flitting from tree to tree, a flash of color
or movement. There was the sense of being watched
by various animal forms, something Rylis had not
had the privilege of sensing since his childhood,
before he had outgrown his fascination with the life
around him, when he had been open to sensing
everything.

For him to return to that state now was like a

cherished dream, like stepping back in time to where
he had never been without an animal by his side that
he could talk to, tell his deepest secrets to. Now he
was in a position where he had no real confidants, no
one of his own rank he could confess to that he was

not always the brave, stalwart commander others
saw. Sometimes he was scared, sometimes so lonely
he ached with it.

Here, that pose seemed thin and fragile. He had

never realized how much a creature of habit he was.
He was comfortable in his own familiar life, but he
was obviously not as truly open to change as he
would have liked to believe.

The peace of the place tried to soothe away his

fears, and he resisted. This was enemy territory, and
he had to remember that. His only goal was to escape,
to find a way back to his own world.

A faint path wound away from the house,

partially overgrown. It looked to have been a wide
and ornate road at some time, but now it was in need
of repair, some of the paving stones cracked and
heaved, the plants having made inroads into its
structure. It added to the sense of desertion that
seemed to surround the vast home, as if long ago
ghosts hovered closely, hinting of a happy, busy past
that echoed now, just a vision instead of reality.

Rylis stretched his wings wide, flapping them

slowly to warm the muscles. He glanced upwards,
frowning at the thick, massive trees that formed a
canopy far above. The Eths had wings; how did they
fly in the confining area of the forest? Seeing their
natural surroundings made Rylis question things he

had never thought of before.

He hesitated, glancing around, but there was no

sign of the healer, of Tamrin. The path seemed the
only recourse.

He wandered down it, keeping an eye out for

danger, unsure what wildlife existed within the
confines of secretive Teeathun, whether there was
anything here that could harm him.

He paused once he got to a curve, his attention

flicking back to the house. He did not want to get lost.
He was painfully unfamiliar with the complexities of
a forest, and his city-bred instincts shrank away from

the dark shadows that lay on every side. He longed
for sunlight and space, familiar faces and a return to
normalcy.

A flicker of light to his left made him pause and

squint as he tried to make out the source. A smaller
path seemed to branch off here, and he thought if he
just stayed on it, he could surely find his way back
without much effort.

This path was less overgrown, as if perhaps it

held more importance than the main one, and the

paving stones were plain to see, their former glory
evident, hints of color, and in places what looked like
mosaic in ornate patterns of vines and leaves.

The light grew brighter the farther he walked,

and he realized with some excitement that it could
only come from a clearing of some sort, where the

trees had a gap that would let in the sunlight. The
prospect of sun and sky made Rylis walk faster, eager
to escape the confines of the trees.

Sure enough, the path led to a massive clearing,

and the sudden light stung Rylis’s eyes as he stood
bedazzled, eyes closed, face tilted up, blessing the
sun’s caress upon his skin. It felt like a benediction of
sorts, and he felt his tension lessen somewhat at the
familiar warmth.

It took some time for him to pull himself away

from the welcome sensations. When at last he opened
his eyes, he began to take in more detail about this

seeming anomaly in the midst of thick forest.

The clearing was very large, at least in Rylis’s

view, and it was obviously being used as a field. Tidy
and organized rows of what looked like a wide array
of vegetables were closest to him, and farther back the
field was split into two areas, each containing
different grains. Down the north side were rows of
fruit trees and berry shrubs. Here there were no signs
of neglect, only careful and recent tending.

It made Rylis uneasy. The area was far too large

for only two Eths to tend it. That pointed to the
presence of more Eths in the area, and that could only
mean trouble for Rylis. The hatred the young male
Eth had shown was going to be duplicated by others,
perhaps in a worse fashion. His safety no doubt

depended on the healer’s influence upon others of his
kind.

As if the thoughts conjured him, there was

movement on Rylis’s right, and he stiffened uneasily
as he saw the healer—Tamrin—straighten from
where he had obviously been weeding along a
vegetable row. He glanced up, looking at Rylis for a
long, considering moment before turning away and
continuing his monotonous motions, long fingers
gently tweaking weeds away from young, vulnerable
crops.

Rylis shifted uneasily, then found himself slowly

making his way towards Tamrin. He did not
understand his own fascination with the Eth. He
should be trying to stay as far away from him as
possible, yet here he was, approaching of his own
volition. It all made so little sense, yet it was as
though something within him was drawn to the Eth’s
proximity like a moth to a flame, probably with
exactly the same destructive results.

The sunlight was not quite the color of Rylis’s

world; filtering through the barrier above, it held a

hint of jeweled tones, giving an almost otherworldly
aspect to everything, especially Tamrin’s wings.

They had been beautiful in the moonlight of

Rylis’s memory. Now they shone in the sunlight,
showing details; the almost metallic reflection of
intricate swirls and patterns in a montage of blues,

greens and copper. The background was more
transparent in sunlight than in moonlight and seemed
to hold an almost silver glow to it, making the other
colors stand out more brilliantly. Rylis’s solid colored
golden wings seemed drab in comparison, his
feathers heavy and clumsy in contrast to the light and
airy beauty of Eth wings, especially these wings. Rylis
could not seem to take his eyes off them, and he was
so tempted to touch.

His fingers curled into fists to resist the pull.
Tamrin did not look up apart from that first

glance. This close, Rylis could see the strain on that

beautiful, alien face, the exhaustion evident in dull,
golden eyes, the tension in that lean jaw. Whatever
had happened between them, it was obvious that it
was affecting Tamrin as fully as it was Rylis, if for
reasons unknown.

The Eth’s white hair was braided carelessly and

hung down his back past his buttocks, longer than
Rylis remembered from the past. This close, the white
was more like silver, holding a mystical quality as it
glistened in the sunlight. Some part of Rylis

remembered the silken beauty of that hair, how
wonderful it had been to touch it.

He imagined how beautiful Tamrin would look

with that hair loose, flowing down over that creamy
skin…

Rylis blinked, astonished at his own thoughts.

Since when had he considered any Eth, especially this
Eth, in sexual terms?

He took a step back, questioning his own sanity.
Tamrin did not look up at his abrupt motion. He

simply continued his patient task, kneeling in the dirt.

Rylis took a deep breath, trying to block the

images that had come to torment him. Talking—
talking would banish the illicit pictures that had
somehow invaded his mind.

“Do you understand Melanian?” His voice came

out hoarse and with a certain desperation underlying
it.

Tamrin glanced up at him, a hint of surprise in

his expression, as if he had not expected Rylis to
speak to him, or perhaps it was the fact that Rylis’s
voice held no particular anger.

He tilted his head to the side, frowning, but there

was only confusion in his eyes, no understanding.

What had he expected? Rylis grimaced. If Tamrin

had picked up any Melanian words, they probably
would have been curses directed at him or sexual
words used during his abuse. Hardly anything that

would promote a conversation or even make the Eth
desire to retain the knowledge. It had been many
years since that time; surely Tamrin had attempted to
suppress the memories, including anything he had
learned during his captivity related to Melanian
culture.

Rylis squatted on his heels, staring at his captor,

feeling hopelessness beginning to creep into his mind.
How in the hells was he ever going to escape this
place? The boy had said Tamrin was trying to find a
way. At least that indicated he was not trying to keep
Rylis captive. That made things easier to bear, made
Rylis’s hatred less focused.

Was that good or bad?
“I want to go home.” It felt good to say it aloud,

though it was entirely useless in light of his listener’s
lack of comprehension.

Tamrin blinked, perhaps reading as much from

Rylis’s expression and body language as he could
have from words.

Whatever it was, he cautiously held out his hand

again, palm up.

Rylis stared at the offering, eyes fastened on the

long claws that held such threat, before looking up to
meet those golden eyes, searching them for something
he could not identify.

The hand did not waver, Tamrin’s expression

betraying nothing but worry and a hint of hope.

Rylis remembered the blue-haired Eth and the

images he had received. He also remembered how it
had affected him, stunned him. His men were not
here to aid him this time.

He hesitated, then reached forward as the offered

hand began to curl into itself, obviously about to

withdraw.

Tamrin froze in place, his eyes lighting as he saw

Rylis’s cautious advance. Short Melanian claws
touched thin, lethal Eth claws for a brief moment,
then Rylis leaned further forward, sliding his fingers
to touch Tamrin’s.

A wealth of image and emotion flowed over him,

and Rylis stiffened, prepared to recoil the instant it
became too much. In this instance, though, it seemed
more controlled, as if Tamrin himself were doing
something to stem the tide, to control the barrage so
Rylis could handle what he was seeing and feeling.

Rylis could not tear his eyes away from Tamrin’s

eyes. They reflected what was being sent through to
Rylis; regret, pain, despair, but also a certain joy—that
Rylis was here, that Tamrin could be with him, even
though Rylis would hate him forever. Clear in
successive images was the fact that Tamrin loved him,
loved Rylis in a way so deep and true that it seemed
surreal, impossible. No one could possibly love Rylis
that much—how could Tamrin bear such an emotion
after little more than two meetings with a child so

long ago, and during a time when that same child’s
parent had caused Tamrin torturous pain?

Rylis jerked his hand back in shock, and the

golden eyes dulled again, Tamrin angling his face
away as though he could no longer face him.

The large body rose, towering over Rylis’s

kneeling form, then Tamrin turned away in silence
and moved to another part of the field, where he knelt
again, returning to his weeding.

Rylis was frozen in place. He could not have felt

that, seen that. It was utterly impossible. A creature so
ancient, so breathtakingly beautiful could not love
him, Rylis. He was not worth…

He shook his head, trying to regain thought. This

seemed to prove the young male Eth’s words. With
emotions like that, Tamrin would never have wanted
to harm Rylis. The feelings he had expressed had felt
neither violently possessive nor obsessive. The

youngster had not been lying when he said that
Rylis’s taking had not been something Tamrin
instigated.

Therefore, it pointed to the fact that Tamrin

himself had been forced or coerced into this, and
certainly if the act produced a rebirth of the barrier,
there would have been other Eths who would have
been less than gentle in their demands for Tamrin to
protect his own people against Melanian influence
and attack.

Did that make Tamrin as much a victim as Rylis

himself? He shook the thought off with anger rising
in him. No, the Eth should have stood up to the
others, should have done the right thing.

But what was the right thing?
On Rylis’s side, it was clear enough—but from

the Eths’ side?

They would have seen the sacrifice of a Melanian

as something along the lines of retribution for all they
had suffered. In the face of that, what were the
feelings of one Eth?

Rylis had done things for his people he was not

proud of, but he had done them none the less. He had
killed, sometimes under circumstances when the lines
of morality had been blurred. He had protected his
people, his country, no matter what. He was not
proud of what he had done in those circumstances,
but he would not go back, either.

He would carry those burdens until he died.
It seemed Tamrin was no different. It was very

evident he was not proud of what he had done to
Rylis; indeed it seemed to lay upon the Eth’s spirit
like a heavy cloak.

Rylis had been able to accept his own actions as

necessary, and his military training had prepared him
for the guilt and soul-searching that would ensue. But
Tamrin was a healer. Had anyone ever helped him,

prepared him for the results of what he had been
forced to do?

Rylis fought against the feeling that perhaps here

was one who understood what sacrifice was,
understood that sometimes one did things they were
not proud of, but through circumstances, right or

wrong, were forced to carry the memory of it.

Rylis did not want to feel the faintest sympathy

for this enemy.

He stood up, pacing restlessly along the rows of

carefully tended plants, trying to subdue the anger
that pulsed through him. It was not to his advantage
to rage at Tamrin. If he became too much of a burden,
the healer could very simply pass him over to the
other Eths and be done with him.

Problem solved.
Rylis stopped, staring upwards at the shimmering

barrier, his brow furrowed with his scowl. Somehow,

no matter his anger, he could not imagine Tamrin
giving up so easily.

The emotions he had sent to Rylis…
Rylis spread his wings and leapt into the air,

wings beating strongly. He glided over the area,
circling, physically draining his energy that wanted a
target, a release—anything to relieve the confusion
and pain that seemed to have possessed his whole
being.

He saw Tamrin pause in his weeding, turning on

his knees to watch Rylis’s flight, perhaps concerned
he would try to test the barrier once more.

Rylis found himself pleased the healer was

watching, and he rolled in the air, increasing his
speed as he shot upwards and looped sharply,

displaying battle tactics as he changed direction
abruptly, almost braking in the air before stooping
downwards straight at Tamrin.

The Eth did not flinch as Rylis swept by, drawing

up at the last moment to avoid the healer. He just
continued to watch.

Rylis wanted the Eth to know who he was—a

commander, a warrior, a possible threat, no victim at
all.

He tried to ignore the part of him that smugly

wanted to show off, wanted Tamrin to see him as—

He grunted in disgust at his own thoughts.

When he had at last drained himself sufficiently,

he landed with precision just a few feet from Tamrin’s
position.

The Eth had returned to his weeding and did not

look up.

Rylis could not help feeling a little disgruntled in

some fashion that made no sense at all.

At last the Eth rose to his full height. His tunic

and pants were covered in dirt, and his hands and

claws rubbed absently on the cloth as if Tamrin’s
thoughts were far away from his physical self.

Rylis could safely watch him, his fascination

seemingly little dulled by proximity and time.

This close, it was clear that Tamrin was at least a

head taller than Rylis and broader in the shoulders.

He was lean and lithe, his muscles smooth and toned
with daily use, not the honed musculature that Rylis
had as a warrior.

Still, his strength was evident, and Rylis was not

foolish enough to believe that the slim form did not
hold power. It was simply more hidden, more
secretive.

Rylis shivered, then frowned to quell the

impulses that wanted expression. The part of himself
that had always wanted to have a lover that could
take charge now and then—

He sucked in his breath. Again he was thinking of

Tamrin as a sexual being. Where in the hells was this
line of thought coming from?

He jerked from his musings as Tamrin turned and

walked away, gesturing at him to follow with one
dirty hand. Rylis hesitated before he followed, his
eyes fixed on the end of that braid where it tapped
repeatedly on that firm, beautiful…

He closed his eyes, beginning to be convinced he

was losing his mind.

The healer was an enemy, no more than that, and

that was all he could ever be.

* * *

On the far side of the clearing, just within the

edge of the trees, a wide stream meandered through
the undergrowth, and here Tamrin knelt, washing his
hands with single-minded absorption as though he
were utterly alone.

Rylis shifted in impatience and a certain irritation.
If the stupid Eth was going to haul him here

unwillingly, the least he could do was acknowledge
his damned presence!

Tamrin twisted on his knees to look back at Rylis,

and the commander found himself flushing, praying
the Eth had not somehow read his thoughts.

Tamrin’s eyebrows rose at sight of the flush, but

his gesture to the water seemed to hold no comment
on Rylis’s reasons.

When Rylis only stared at him blankly, Tamrin

mimed washing motions, and Rylis realized what was
meant. He glanced at the stream in some trepidation,
shivering at the mere thought of dipping any part of
him into the clear, probably cold water. His city-bred

senses wanted nothing more than hot water and a
good shower.

But to be able to wash away the remnants of the

incident by the barrier… The need to cleanse away
what had happened, physically if not mentally,
overrode his fastidiousness.

He stripped off the tunic, ready to glare at

Tamrin, only to find the Eth with his back turned, a
discreet chivalry that left Rylis confused and rather
pleased. Tamrin did not leave him alone, defenseless,
but offered his protection while he bathed.

Rylis did not examine too closely the reason he

felt he could trust Tamrin not to turn around once
Rylis was nude.

After removing the rolled-up pants, Rylis stepped

into the stream, hissing a little at its chill, though it
was less frigid than his imagination had supplied. He
waded further in until it came up to his upper thighs,

and, after gathering courage, he sank down into the
water with a grimace that turned into a faint gasp as
his heated groin made contact with the stream.

OK, maybe it was colder than he thought.
He held himself against the gentle current,

squatted on his heels, letting the water swirl around
his form. After a few minutes of acclimation, the chill
receded somewhat, and he found the wherewithal to
begin to use his hands to scrub himself clean. Once he
began, he could not stop, and his motions became

ever more desperate as he fought to dispel any
remnant of his taking. How long this might have gone
on, he did not know, but a sharp, humming sound
jerked him out of his self-imposed torture. He looked
up dazedly, realizing the sound came from Tamrin,
who still stood patiently facing away, arms folded

over his chest. The sound seemed to reach something
in Rylis, calming him, enabling him to think rationally
again and cease his useless motions.

He was as clean as it was possible to be. The rest

was in his mind, and his body did not deserve the
treatment it was receiving.

The clarity of these thoughts, perhaps sent

somehow by Tamrin himself, made Rylis take a deep
breath and bring himself back under control.

He rose from the waters with a cautious glance at

Tamrin, wondering how he was going to dry himself.

Again, as if reading minds, the Eth gestured with

one hand to the left, and Rylis saw a wooden chest
nestled against the base of a massive tree. Upon
reaching it and lifting the well-fitted lid, Rylis found
what looked like towels, though they were woven of
courser threads than he was used to, and a uniform
wheaten color with no other dyeing evident. To his
surprise, they were soft, and quickly dried him.
Unsure what else to do, he wrapped the generously
sized towel around his waist and turned to face
Tamrin.

The Eth slowly turned to face him, and there was

a faint gleam of interest in his eyes, swiftly
suppressed, when he viewed Rylis’s bare torso.

Rylis shivered, but it was not entirely a negative

emotion that swept him when those eyes touched
him.

Indeed, he felt suddenly warmer.
Tamrin’s gaze went to Rylis’s face, meeting his

unsure expression with a softening of his own
features. A moment later, though, his eyes narrowed,
and a look of utter regret made his lips turn down.

He took an uncertain step forward, his eyes

flicking from Rylis’s injured hand down to his wrists.

Rylis looked down, confused, only then seeing

the large bruises that ringed his wrists from where the
vines had held him down during his struggles on the
forest floor.

He sucked in a sharp breath, remembering.

Tamrin hummed again, holding one hand out,

keeping his small distance and allowing Rylis to
decide how to handle this situation.

Drawing a deep, shaky breath, Rylis responded,

offering his injured hand, not understanding what he
was doing, but reacting merely on instinct that told
him to do so.

Tamrin relaxed the faintest degree, a hint of relief

in those golden eyes as he ever so gently took Rylis’s
injured hand in his and then laid his other hand over

first the bandaged area and then the bruising. A calm
focus seemed to come over the Eth, and he hummed
again, in a different, higher tone as his warm fingers
settled as gently as a butterfly upon the bruises.

Rylis watched in wonder as a blue light seemed to

encase his wrist and hand. There was a prickling of

energy, but softer, more benevolent than the forest
energy had been, and a soothing warmth began to
encase his whole body, radiating from that touch.
Aches he had not even realized he possessed began to
loosen, the energy slowly moving downward to take
away the deep throbbing of his nether regions. As if
in response, his body almost leaned towards Tamrin,
wanting more, wanting to be able to touch in return,
to hold that glorious body against his own.

Rylis blinked as the touch slowly withdrew, and

he returned to stark reality with a sense of aloneness
that seemed to encompass him utterly.

Tamrin was watching him with concern, and

Rylis pushed back his isolation with sheer force of
will, giving a short nod of thanks and a roll of his
shoulders to indicate the effect the healing—for it was
surely that—had had. If his body had wanted more,
had yearned for more, that was Rylis’s burden to
bear, not Tamrin’s. Rylis had the strong impression
that Tamrin would be horrified if he realized his
healing had brought such feelings to Rylis’s body. No
doubt he would see it as another assault upon Rylis

himself. Of less clarity was the reason Rylis was not
thinking that same thing.

Tamrin tried out a tentative smile, his expression

holding a clear happiness at being able to remove the
pain from what had happened, an absolution of sorts
for the Eth. Rylis could only wonder at the skill of

such a thing. No one he had ever heard of possessed
such healing talent. Was this a power common to the
Eth in general, or only to Tamrin in particular?

Rylis found himself wanting to know.

* * *

They returned to the house in silence, Tamrin

once again leading the way. Rylis felt exposed
dressed in only a towel, his dirty clothes clutched to
his chest. The expanse of the forest made him uneasy,
out of his element. It felt like thousands of eyes were

upon him.

He could not shake the feeling away despite his

best efforts.

When they entered the house, the young male Eth

seemed to be preparing something to eat. He looked
up from the vegetables he was chopping to greet
Tamrin with a bright smile, though when his eyes slid
past the healer to rest on Rylis’s half clothed form, he

looked rather like he would like to use the knife for a
different purpose.

Never one to back down from a challenge, Rylis

met the boy eye-to-eye. He was a commander, a
leader of troops, well used to taming wild youngsters.

The boy finally looked away, anger in every line

of his body.

Tamrin cleared his throat, breaking the standoff,

and gestured for Rylis to follow him back toward the
sleeping rooms.

Once in Rylis’s room, the healer dug around in

what presumably was a type of closet before
emerging with slightly smaller clothing than he had
offered before. Perhaps he had not truly realized the
difference in sizes earlier.

Again they were simple pants and a tunic, long-

sleeved this time. Rylis took them gratefully, longed
to be covered properly once more in this place of

strangeness. Tamrin nodded to him, then left, closing
the door tightly behind his tall form.

Rylis dressed with some haste, realizing he was

hungry after his flight. It seemed so little time since
the morning meal, yet his hunger pointed to a greater
span of time than he had realized. There was still no
sign of boots or shoes, and he mourned the lack. His
feet already felt the myriad cuts and bruises of
walking barefoot in the forest when he was used to
protection.

If nothing else, this adventure was pointing out

that he was much less tough than he would have
imagined.

He frowned at the thought. He prided himself on

his ability to excel at anything and everything he
asked his troops to do.

Perhaps he should be training his troops without

footwear for a while.

He could not repress a smile at the thought of

their probable reaction to such an order. Only
children went barefoot.

Which brought his thoughts back to Tamrin—

who was no child.

He half wished Tamrin had bathed at the stream,

and he wondered if he would have been strong
enough not to sneak a peek at that amazing body. It
seemed his own chivalry was not as advanced as
Tamrin’s was.

He grinned a little, unable to repress a snort of

humor at the thought. No one outside would ever
believe the complexity of this healer, this Eth.

His grin died. Would he ever be able to tell

anyone—or would he be imprisoned here for the rest
of his days?

He closed his eyes at the thought. He wanted to

be home with all his heart—his whole being cried out
for it.

Chapter Seven

The young male Eth’s name was Gharadeen.

Tamrin introduced him at the meal, and it took a few
moments for Rylis’s tongue to be able to work around
the word, but he managed, ignoring the look of scorn
that Gharadeen gifted him with. No doubt he
mangled the name, but he grinned at the end,
needling the boy with a clear message that he was
anything but sorry.

Tamrin shook his head at the two of them and

gave Gharadeen a low voiced comment that had the
boy blushing and offering what seemed an apology to
the healer.

Rylis watched their exchange, only lifting an

eyebrow when Gharadeen shot him a swift look of
resentment as though he had perhaps been chastised
by Tamrin. The boy deserved it. He was being
unspeakably rude to a guest, and had he been Rylis’s
responsibility, he would have regretted such a thing
long before this.

The question arose, though. Was the youngster

Tamrin’s son? Or related? He had not called Tamrin
father when he had spoken to Rylis earlier. If he was

no relation, why was he here? Gharadeen had
mentioned his time as a Melanian captive… Was he
rejected by the rest of the Eths as tainted? It seemed
reasonable that Tamrin would take him in, given the
healer’s past. The Eth’s gentleness seemed to make
such a thing almost a certainty. He did not seem like

the type to turn someone away, no matter their
situation. And who better to understand what
Gharadeen had undergone?

Was that why he had Rylis in his home now?

Rylis had the uncomfortable thought that Tamrin was
protecting him, or at least keeping him in some
comfort. After his initial purpose was fulfilled, Rylis
doubted that any other Eth would have cared for him.
They probably would have abandoned him by the
barrier, letting him destroy himself in trying to
escape.

The remembrance of that exploding rock made

Rylis shiver, and Tamrin looked at him sharply,
concern in his eyes.

Rylis shook his head in response, finding that he

was finding it easier to read what the Eth was
thinking. They had only been together a day, and yet
something had created a connection of sorts, and
despite the lack of true speech, he was reading body
language in a way he had never encountered with
any other being. He was painfully aware of Tamrin,
and the feeling was growing, not lessening. He

wanted to sink his fingers into that hair and pull the
other male close, he wanted…

He clenched his fingers upon the fork he held,

staring blindly at his food. This want—this need—
was becoming almost unmanageable. Was this some
part of what Kiell had spoken of? It would not be long

until he would have to do something about it. It
seemed he was the one in control now; he could
choose the time and the way, and somehow he knew
Tamrin would give him anything he desired, but
would never risk being the one to initiate anything.
Not after the way they had—

Rylis shoved aside the memory, lips thinning

with determination. If there was to be a second round,
Rylis himself would be the one to start things, and the
mere thought made a shiver run up his spine. His
thoughts coalesced, and he looked up at Gharadeen
with a challenging half grin.

“Teach me to speak Eth.”
If looks could have killed, Rylis would have no

doubt been sprawled on the floor.

In the end though, Rylis got his way. Tamrin had

obviously asked Gharadeen what had been said, and
although the boy clearly tried to maneuver his way
out of the situation, he also obviously had trouble
lying to his benefactor.

The pleased look that Tamrin had given Rylis

then was probably pure torture to the boy, but in the

end, he gave in, grudgingly and with poor grace, but
Rylis gave no note to that. He was too busy
congratulating himself on finding a way to
understand his enemies. Whatever else he might
achieve with this knowledge, it opened a way to
discovering how to escape the Teeathun at least. At

most, it could provide a way to be the one to conquer
Tamrin this time, regain his own pride in whatever
form he could manage.

* * *

Stubborn Gharadeen might be, but he was also

true to his word, for he began to teach Rylis that
evening. Rylis had always been a quick study with
most anything he put his mind to, and his
determination was to use this as an avenue. He began
to get a basic feel for the language, and though it was

obviously complicated, encompassing a great number
of throat-based sounds including many nuances of
humming, it did not seem impossible for a Melanian
to manage it.

Rylis was pleased and much more settled in

himself now he had a plan.

The fact that Tamrin was in love with him was

going to make this so much easier. He was obviously

no warrior to be so foolish as to give an enemy such a
lever. Rylis did not really understand his own
reactions to the Eth, but he was damned if he was
going to let such a thing prevent him from using any
tool at all to find his way home.

Military training was standing him in good

stead—focus on the initiative, find weaknesses in
those who opposed you.

His attraction to the Eth was something he had

not expected but it could not be allowed to interfere
with the main objective.

Escape.
Nobody and nothing was going to keep him from

that. Certainly not a fledgling attraction for a foreign
being who had already betrayed him.

* * *

Rylis watched and listened to everything, trying

to seem as unobtrusive and resigned as possible. His
behavior seemed to comfort Tamrin, though he often
studied Rylis with a pensive air as if he was
wondering quite what to do with him now that he
was here in Teeathun.

Gharadeen, however, seemed to quite clearly feel

that Rylis was a threat no matter his demeanor, and

although he reluctantly complied with the language
lessons, he never took his eye off the Melanian and
had taken to trailing behind every time Tamrin and
Rylis left the house. His glowering regard often made
Tamrin frown and occasionally say something in a
chiding tone, but whatever he said seemed to make

little impact upon the younger Eth.

Rylis let it slide. For now, he was not planning

anything. In the future…

The days passed in pleasant enough fashion, and

still there was no sign of any other Eths, though Rylis
knew they had to be in the vicinity. Several times they
had entered the clearing and weeding had been
recently done, though Rylis knew that Tamrin and
Gharadeen had not left the house.

These strangers were completely elusive, and

Tamrin himself seemed to make no effort to
communicate with them, though several times

Gharadeen looked around at the trees with a longing
expression that seemed to indicate he would not mind
if others appeared.

It made Rylis wonder anew exactly why these

two seemed to live alone, without any contact from
their people. Was it their own choice, or had they
been exiled in some fashion?

He wondered whether the weight of watching

eyes was Eths or merely forest animals.

Either way, it was made very clear in all ways

that he, as a Melanian, was not welcome here. He
shrugged. If he could not get them to accept him, then
perhaps he could use them to find a way to leave.
Certainly it felt that they would be greatly happy to
see the back of him. Probably as happy as he would

be to see the back of this damned forest.

* * *

Rylis woke suddenly, sitting up in the bed, covers

pooled around his naked waist, staring wide-eyed
into the darkness. For long moments he could not
imagine where he was or why.

When memory returned, he put hands to his face

and let out a long, shaky sigh that resonated to the
heart of him. For just a moment, he had thought it
was all a nightmare, and that he had woken in his

own room at the palace.

He sat motionless for a long time, trying to get his

despair under control. It was beginning to become
frighteningly clear that he would not be going home
any time soon. The truth had always been there, right
in front of him, but he had hoped.

Releasing a short huff of breath, he irritably

shoved the bedcovers away and rose from the bed,

familiar enough now with the room to be able to find
his clothing in the darkness and dress. He cautiously
opened the door to the room and peered out,
wondering how close Gharadeen and Tamrin’s rooms
were to his, hoping not to disturb them.

It was silent and still, though a few energy globes

shone softly in the corridor, lending enough light for
Rylis to make his silent way through the house. Its
strange emptiness was more oppressive in the gloom
of night, and Rylis shivered and rubbed his arms as
he reached the front door. He half expected it to be
locked, as it would certainly have been in Melan, but
he now noticed there did not even seem to be a lock at
all. Were all Eths so trusting, or had this house been
meant to be assessable to any caller?

He stepped outside, standing with his back close

to the house, feeling even more isolated in the
shrouding mystery of the forest at night. He hesitated,

loath to leave the relative safety of the house, but
some compulsion he could not understand seemed to
drive him on, seemed to force him to move away, to
follow the by now familiar path towards the clearing.
He did not possess the night sight of the Eths, so he
half stumbled multiple times, cursing his lack of boots
as his toes encountered random vicious stones that
seemed to have taken up residence upon the path,
simply waiting for an unwary, night-blind Melanian
to pass by.

His low curses seemed to echo from the trees, and

he gritted his teeth as he tried not to imagine hoards
of hostile Eth watching from the darkness, waiting for
him to get far enough from Tamrin’s protection.

He heard it then, froze in place as his senses

drank in the beauty of the song that seemed to wend

its way through the trees, completely part of the
forest. The trees themselves seemed to sigh in answer,
and the hostility Rylis commonly felt seemed to fade
away, as though Teeathun’s attention had been
diverted elsewhere, to the source of that soul-lifting
song that made Rylis’s heart pound in ways he had
never experienced before. He continued forward,
needing, wanting to find the source. It was haunting,
it was beautiful beyond description, it was…

Tamrin.
Rylis halted abruptly, eyes wide, breath

suspended at what he beheld.

The clearing was moonlit, mystical. Every plant,

every tree, every wisp of life was transformed into
something otherworldly and in the midst of it—
Tamrin danced.

He wore nothing, and the moon blazed upon his

pale skin, caressing it, making it glow. His wings
were moving, half lifting the tall Eth from the ground
as he whirled and pirouetted, swayed and bowed. His
face was upturned to the moon herself, and he sang
as he moved in a seductive homage to the unearthly

body above. His grace was beyond any comparison
Rylis could make, and his face…

That lean, alien countenance was etched in joy, a

happiness that Rylis had never glimpsed before. Bare
feet seemed to hardly touch the earth, and every so
often Tamrin would rise from the ground completely

and then settle some distance away, wings fluttering
with less effort than seemed possible to suspend that
tall, lithe form. His hair, for once unbound, silver in
the moon’s gentle light, flowed around him like a
living cape.

After a short while, Rylis began to see a pattern in

the dance and realized that Tamrin danced along each
row of plants, every now and then sweeping down to
lay one palm or another onto the soil, his song
softening into a hum as he seemed to draw the
moon’s energy into the ground itself.

Rylis found himself hardening, and for once he

could not chastise himself or make himself horrified
at his need. The beauty of this creature, the need to
possess, to claim him, was beyond any ability of a
mere mortal such as himself to control.

Lean muscles flexed and rippled under creamy

skin as the Eth danced, and that voice—it was enough
to make the most pure of beings shiver with pleasure.
The bell-like tones were like nothing Rylis had ever
heard, even among the skilled royal bards, and from

this day forth he could not imagine counting their
voices as pleasant.

They were as nothing in comparison.
The Eth seemed to be able to hold a note much

longer than any singer Rylis had ever encountered,
and his pitch was perfect, so clear and without any

breathiness, without any effort at all.

It was breathtaking. It was arousing to a degree

that Rylis could not counter.

Something had called him here, though it did not

seem to be Tamrin himself.

The Eth danced with a freedom of spirit that

seemed possible only if Tamrin believed himself
utterly alone. So if Tamrin himself had not called
upon Rylis, then who?

Rylis found himself slowly stripping away his

clothing, carefully, silently, half holding his breath in
an unconscious attempt to keep his presence secret.

He had no wish to disturb this amazing display, did
not want it to stop simply because of his jarring
presence.

Never had he felt his own mortality so keenly as

he did then. It was said that Eths were immortal, and
looking at this ethereal creature before him, feeling
the connection between Eth, sky and earth, he could
well believe such stories. Tamrin seemed as old as the
mighty trees, as the forest itself.

Rylis’s mind whirled; his whole body pulsed with

the need to take, to own the enchanting being that
taunted him with beauty.

He stepped into the clearing, heart pounding so

deeply it felt as though it sought to escape his chest.

Closer now, Rylis could see that a faint sheen of

sweat shone upon the creamy skin, giving a surreal
aspect to the delineation of muscle and bone. Rylis
licked his lips, wanting to taste.

He approached with caution, unsure of his

reception, breath suspending as the song suddenly
ceased and Tamrin whirled to face him, golden eyes
wide and startled.

They stared at each other, Tamrin’s breath fast

and shallow, his body poised for flight as if his
instincts saw Rylis as a threat.

Rylis murmured something, the same soothing

tone he had used on his animals so long ago. He

hardly remembered how but it seemed appropriate
now, faced with the threat of Tamrin fleeing his
presence.

Not now—he wanted so much to…
Rylis held out one entreating hand, and the Eth

stared at it as though at a striking snake, fear
shadowing those amazing eyes.

Rylis took step after cautious step, never taking

his eyes from his quarry.

This time, he would be the victor, the conqueror.

He wanted this creature as he had never wanted
another being. It was a longing so deep, so potent that
it took away all thought, all reason.

It was beyond revenge, beyond anything he could

understand.

It must happen, that was all he knew.
At last he stood within touching distance, and

this close he could see the fine tremors that ran over
Tamrin’s body, the tension that kept him poised on a
knife edge.

Rylis hummed in his throat in an imitation of

Tamrin’s soothing tones, and the Eth looked at him
wildly, shivering harder.

Rylis’s hand held steady, and he stopped his

advance, letting the Eth come to him. His instincts
told him if he took another step, his quarry would be
gone in the blink of an eye.

Tamrin cautiously dropped his gaze to the

outstretched fingers, and a certain longing shone
there. His right hand rose slightly, then the fingers
clenched, and he half turned away.

Rylis sprang forward, wrapping his arms around

the Eth’s neck as he fastened his lips upon the
tempting mouth that had haunted him from the
moment he had laid eyes on the Eth so long ago. As a
child, he had not understood the fascination, but
now…

Tamrin froze, and for a breathless moment it

seemed he would tear free.

Then he seemed to sigh deep in his chest, and he

became pliant under Rylis’s touch, his lips softening,
his head tilting to allow the Melanian better access.

Rylis felt a surge of triumph, and his kiss grew

more aggressive.

Tamrin let out the softest of whimpers, and Rylis

felt an answering hardness against his own.

With an encouraging whisper, he began to go

down to his knees, drawing the Eth down with him.
Tamrin came willingly enough, an expression of
wonder on his face, though it seemed to be tempered
with a certain fear, as if he felt some degree of caution
at this sudden turn about.

Rylis hummed again, sucking on Tamrin’s

tongue, feeling how the action distracted the other
male, drawing him into the vortex of need Rylis was

already caught in.

Powerful arms slowly, cautiously, slid around

Rylis’s naked waist, gentle fingers sliding over
sensitive flesh, the faintest touch of claws making
Rylis moan into the mouth he could not bring himself
to abandon.

The taste of the Eth was beyond addicting:

sweetness and heat that made Rylis wild. He growled
this time and pushed upon Tamrin, urging him to his
back.

There was resistance for a moment, the remnants

of fear and distrust, but as Rylis’s mouth finally
abandoned swollen lips to move down a long, elegant
throat, nipping, raising small marks that gleamed in
the moon’s light, Tamrin seemed to accept the
inevitability of this, and the Eth lay quiescent upon

the tilled earth. His pale skin looked otherworldly
against the dark soil, and Rylis groaned, his body
pulsing, out of any control he could muster. Part of
him was horrified, the other part could not give a
damn. It just wanted what it held, wanted to show the
world that this creature was his, his alone.

This sudden emotion was beyond Rylis’s

capability to reason through, and his body acted on
pure instinct. He growled again, bit down on that
throat, pinning Tamrin.

The Eth moaned, any and all resistance gone, his

larger frame sprawled beneath Rylis’s force. It was

completely evident that he could have used his
superior strength against Rylis, and yet he submitted
so easily, as though he too longed for this.

Rylis remembered the emotions, the images and

impressions he had picked up from that single touch
they had shared days ago. The Eth loved him, and
this was but proof. He would give the Melanian
anything.

Victory was sweet.

In the end, the Eth would give him everything,

including Rylis’s freedom.

The self-serving thoughts drifted away. There

was only the wonder of being able to touch with
impunity, to stroke hands over that silken skin, lips
ghosting over rippling muscle and settling upon a

dusky nipple.

Tamrin arched, a gasping moan escaping his lips,

his hands clutching at Rylis as if he needed contact to
stabilize himself.

Rylis forgot everything but what was happening.

His fingers trembled ever so slightly as they moved,
slowly sliding downward to hook behind Tamrin’s
knee, lifting it so the Eth’s long, narrow foot rested
flat upon the ground and Rylis’s goal was better
exposed.

Tamrin tensed as Rylis’s fingers softly traced over

his thigh and then stroked gently over hairless balls.

There did not seem to be any hair on the Eth’s body at
all, and that strangeness, that lack, was intensely
erotic to Rylis’s senses. Tamrin was alien in so many
ways and yet, in those golden eyes and the emotions
that lay there, they seemed little different at all.

Vulnerable.
Rylis murmured soothingly as the Eth shifted,

obviously uncomfortable with the direction of the
touches. He laid a gentle kiss upon parted lips and

felt Tamrin relax into the gesture, forgetting about the
intruding hand.

Rylis’s fingers circled upon the sensitive skin

between balls and his true goal, that enticing entrance
that twitched warily when he brushed over it. His
breath came harder. He needed to be inside, needed

to experience what it was like to command Tamrin’s
body.

His own shaft wept with anticipation, and he

gathered the slick liquid upon his fingertips before
presenting a single finger to that entrance. He circled
gently, gathered more slickness before pressing
within.

He moaned against Tamrin’s mouth as he felt the

heat and pressure within and imagined how this
would grip his shaft.

A faint thought flashed through, that he needed

to go gently, that Tamrin had known too much of

brutality in his past, but lust rose over the moment of
conscience. His finger pressed in to the hilt, and
Tamrin arched, a choked cry muffled within the
confines of Rylis’s mouth.

The Eth tried to move back, a hint of panic in his

expression, but Rylis soothed him again, licking over
his lips and letting his finger remain still, letting the
Eth’s body grow used to the intrusion.

Tamrin shook beneath him, half panting, his

sharp teeth gleaming in the moonlight, and Rylis

knew that at any moment he could resist, and this
would all come to nothing.

Rylis crooked the embedded finger, gently

searching, wondering if Eths had the same
physiology as Melanians.

They did.

Tamrin arched, golden eyes wide and

disbelieving, and Rylis frowned a little in surprise.
The Eth’s reaction pointed to him never having
experienced this before, and that made little sense.

As an immortal, surely he would have had many

lovers down the ages, and surely at least one of them
would have been gentle enough to have given Tamrin
this pleasure of pleasures.

Yet, this reaction did not point to that.
Rylis watched in mute fascination, feeling like a

god as he beheld Tamrin writhing upon his
impalement, panting, body quivering with sensation

that had no end as Rylis’s finger brushed relentlessly
over the inner spot.

A faint flush darkened those pale cheeks, and the

sound of those breathy moans nearly made Rylis
come. He withdrew the finger, brought more
slickness to bear and added two this time.

Tamrin whimpered, but did not struggle. Rylis

relished the tightness, realizing with a surge of male
approval that it was quite evident that Tamrin had
not been sexually active in a long, long time.

Whether this had been a result of his experiences

so long ago under Melanian hands or was a product
of his seeming isolation from others of his kind was
hard to say. If it was his experiences, he was being
very accommodating to Rylis.

But then, he loved him.

A third finger slid in, scissoring and stretching

the resistant muscles that protested the invasion,
twitching in a vain attempt to expel the intruders.

Rylis shook with need—he could wait no longer.

His shaft was oozing copious amounts of fluid, and
he smeared it over his length, having to struggle to
breathe as he presented himself at Tamrin’s entrance.

The Eth shook like a leaf, but did not protest, did

not try to avoid what was coming, despite the
likelihood of pain. He let out a faint, gasping sigh as
Rylis pushed in, arching his body to allow a deeper,
gentler penetration.

Rylis let out a soft cry as his shaft was encased in

tight, wet heat. His eyes rolled back and his arms
shook where he had them braced upon the ground.
He could do nothing for a moment, trying to get his
rioting senses to coalesce enough to be able to move
with some form of coordination.

At last he could move, could think a little, and his

hips surged forward, his shaft sinking relentlessly
into Tamrin’s body. The Eth gave out a sobbing

moan, and Rylis lowered his head to kiss him, feeling
the tension in the large body sprawled beneath him.

He slowly withdrew again, then pushed back in,

angling his thrust this time to glide over that pleasure
point. The panic in Tamrin’s eyes slowly faded away
as he seemed to focus on the sensations engendered,

and he gave little moans each time Rylis pressed in, a
small, whimpering sigh when he pulled out.

It was erotic in the extreme, and never had Rylis

felt so much power as when he saw the pleasure
begin to etch itself upon Tamrin’s features, saw the
fear submerge helplessly beneath lust.

Clawed fingers flexed restlessly upon Rylis’s

back, and it was quite obvious now that Tamrin was
holding him close, not touching with the intent to
push him away if needed.

The faintest scratch of those deadly talons was

enough to make Rylis shudder, and Tamrin finally

seemed to come back to himself enough to realize the
effect it was having, whereupon he began to gently
trail the claws over Rylis’s buttocks and the backs of
his thighs, pressing sometimes hard enough to
scratch, to threaten, but never actually doing the
deed.

Rylis had never realized he had a weakness for

such a thing, but then he had never had a lover that
could impale him upon three-inch claws.

The sense of danger was stimulating,

exhilarating, and Rylis found his ardor rising to the
point that he could no longer control himself.
Growling, he laid his teeth upon Tamrin’s throat,
pinning, possessing. Granted, his teeth were not
nearly as sharp as Tamrin’s but they were not dull,

either, and the edges drew the faintest hint of blood.

Tamrin murmured something in his own

language, a hint of desperation in the tone, his hips
tilting upwards in wordless invitation. Rylis
understood, and his hips began to thrust faster,
driving him deeper and deeper into Tamrin with each
stroke. He hissed through his teeth, feeling Tamrin’s
pulse hammer under his tongue, and then Tamrin
arched beneath him, the large body bowed as the Eth
gave an undulating cry that echoed off the trees. The
abrupt motion finished Rylis, and his fingers clenched
upon Tamrin’s shoulders, his vision going black at the

edges as he came, the sensations washing over him
more powerfully than he had ever experienced. It was
like he was beyond his own body for long moments,
then he suddenly crashed back, collapsing upon
Tamrin’s heaving chest.

How long they lay like that, Rylis could not have

said, only that time seemed a distant, unimportant
thing. He felt no need to move, to speak, to break this
peace that seemed to enfold them both. Rylis had

never felt anything like it, and he did not wish it to
end. For once, he felt part of someone, not alone.

For once, he felt something perilously close to

contentment.

Light began to grace the very edges of the sky

above, and Rylis dimly realized daylight would soon

be upon them. The magic of this night would be gone,
and once again they would be enemies. He closed his
eyes, unsure why the thought gave him such a
tightness in his chest.

Tamrin held him close, claws occasionally

stroking through Rylis’s hair, such an affectionate,
calming gesture that Rylis actually felt tears rise to his
eyes. He fought them back, annoyed at himself. This
was a moment out of time, no more than that. He had
taken the Eth as the Eth took him, but more gently.
Whether that made him the better person he could
not say. What was clear was that he felt better, more

in control.

This sweetness within him was an anomaly, that

was all.

There was no place for this in his life. He would

be king soon, would find a wife and have heirs as was
expected of him despite his preferences.

This could have no place in that.
The surprise was that he wished it could. Tamrin

was having more of an effect upon him than he
wanted or needed.

His fingers tightened upon Tamrin. The thought

of letting the Eth go was repugnant. Was there a way
he could persuade the Eth to return with him?

The thought held merit; to be able to enjoy this

pleasure on a regular basis… And surely if he treated
him gently enough, the Eth would survive outside the

shelter of Teeathun.

The thought retreated to the recesses of his mind.

He did not want to think of things right now, he just
wanted to lay here forever and never have to face—
anything.

He buried his face against Tamrin’s neck, and the

Eth murmured softly, wrapping his arms more tightly
around Rylis, perhaps divining his thoughts and
offering comfort.

Rylis wondered bleakly if the Eth would be so

kind if he knew what his lover was thinking.

Chapter Eight

During breakfast, Gharadeen immediately picked

up that something had changed. He eyed the two of
them with narrow-eyed suspicion, his expression
growing blacker by the second.

At last he shot to his feet, shouting something at

Tamrin that had the older Eth’s expression closing up
with something that looked close to guilt. His words
to the young male were calm and even, but they only

seemed to enflame Gharadeen, who slammed his fists
down upon the table with considerable force before
he stormed off, slamming the front door in a savage
display of adolescent angst familiar everywhere.

Rylis winced, half expecting the door to come off

the hinges, but it seemed relatively unharmed,
testament no doubt to its construction.

There fell a great silence, and Rylis looked over at

Tamrin, feeling a twinge of emotion as he beheld the
Eth staring at his food, lips tight and face drawn.
Whatever had been said had hurt.

Rylis could not help himself. He laid his arm

upon the table, offering his hand palm up.

Tamrin shot a startled look at him, then gingerly

took the offering. Immediately, Rylis was almost
overwhelmed with impressions. Guilt, joy, grief,
hope—they swirled over him, making him a little
dizzy.

Tamrin withdrew his touch, looking concerned,

and patted Rylis’s hand in acknowledgement of his
compassion.

Rylis wished the language barrier did not exist,

wished he could communicate truly with Tamrin.
There were so many questions he needed to ask, so
many things he needed explained. Half the issues he
had could probably be solved if they could just
understand each other.

He tried out a few tentative words Gharadeen

had been teaching him, and Tamrin’s face broke out
into a small smile.

Rylis cursed, but with a sense of faint humor,

realizing he must have badly mangled what he had
attempted to say.

Tamrin’s lips tilted into a grin, the sadness

leaving his eyes for a moment, and Rylis found he
wanted that expression to stay. He began to point to
things, and Tamrin caught on. He would give the Eth
word, and Rylis would indicate the Melanian equal.
In no time, they were laughing at each other’s
pronunciation. It was evident Tamrin had a gift of
memory, for he did not forget a single word Rylis

presented. It made Rylis wonder exactly how much
Tamrin had learned during his captivity, and whether
some dim remembrance of Melanian language lurked
within Tamrin’s mind, perhaps blocked by an attempt
to forget.

They continued the practice for some time, but

Rylis could see Tamrin’s growing exhaustion. He had
been up for most of the night, no doubt, in what now
seemed like a ritual of drawing moon energy into the
plants. He had to be beyond tired.

Rylis made a sudden decision as he rose to stand

beside the great table. He reached out and took
Tamrin’s hand, drawing him to his feet. They stared
at each other, then Rylis turned and pulled the Eth
along down the hallways to his room.

Tamrin balked a moment at the doorway, his

expression quizzical and a little worried, but Rylis
persisted, drawing his new lover inside and closing

the door. He did not relinquish his grip upon that
larger hand but simply lay down on the bed and
pulled Tamrin down beside him. The Eth was tense,
but he did not resist.

Rylis gently drew him close, then guided the

Eth’s head to lay upon Rylis’s chest. Delicate Eth
wings overlaid golden feathers, and somehow the
sight was beautiful in its differences.

Tamrin did not seem to know quite what to do

with this non-sexual moment, but lay as he had been

directed, body rigid, wings twitching restlessly. Rylis
hummed soothingly, petting the white hair with long,
languid strokes, his fingers gently combing the
strands, rubbing ever so softly against the scalp with
each pass. Tamrin’s breathing became less jagged, less
forced, and the large body slowly began to relax,

muscle by muscle, until he lay limply against Rylis,
wings slowly fluttering to a stop. When the Eth’s
breathing gradually calmed until it was slow and
even in sleep, Rylis smirked to himself. He had no
idea why he had wanted to do this and even less
concept of why it pleased him so much. He only knew
that at this moment, there was no place he would
rather be than right here, touching his Eth.

He paused.
His Eth. Had Tamrin become that again? Perhaps.

The score seemed somewhat settled in Rylis’s mind.
Somewhat.

He was not reconciled to what had happened at

the barrier, but the fact he was in control now, that
Tamrin was under his sway, seemed to help.

This gentleness was odd, though. Rylis had never

been one for quiet times with his lovers. They had
hot, steamy sex, and that was enough. Time to be
apart. He had never wanted to spend time with them
sleeping upon him, never felt this tug on the heart
that he felt as he watched Tamrin’s face, peaceful and
serene in sleep as it never was in waking.

He felt protective, which was pure foolishness,

because the Eth was probably fully capable of kicking
Rylis’s ass, yet…

There was a gentleness, a vulnerability about

Tamrin that made Rylis feel—protective. There
seemed no way around that word.

He sighed and let his fingers trail over creamy

skin. Somehow, some way, Tamrin had gotten under
his skin from the moment they had met so long ago,
and that impression was only reinforced with their
strange relationship now. It seemed they were
destined to be important in each other’s lives, and
that thought was terrifying.

An Eth and a Melanian were not meant to hold

each other’s hearts.

* * *

Rylis woke later that afternoon, dazed and

uncomprehending, realizing he felt chilled despite
being covered snugly with the warm bedcovers. His
left hand restlessly stroked over the bed, and it was
then he remembered he had fallen asleep with Tamrin
in his arms.

He half rose on an elbow, rubbing his eyes as he

searched the room. There was no sign of the Eth, and
the bed beside him felt cold and abandoned.

Tamrin had obviously been gone for some time.
The sense of loss at the Eth’s absence was

disturbing in the extreme to Rylis. He was fiercely

independent, and his childhood had taught him well
that reliance on another person led to heartbreak and
emotional instability. It was best to be alone, to have
encounters with others as needs be, but never
opening the door to self.

This was coming perilously close to something

that could pierce that inner armor. Not good, not
good at all.

The house seemed quiet, but then neither Tamrin

nor Gharadeen were big talkers, and their movements
were typically Eth, silent and almost ghostly. It would
be impossible to tell if he was alone.

He rose from the bed and staggered across the

hall to the small washroom to bathe his face and try to
bring some semblance of thought back into his head.
Cold water chased away the lingering sense of
pleasant lethargy, and he felt more alert.

He moved down the hallway, beginning to hear a

voice that seemed to come from outside—a strange
voice that belonged to neither Gharadeen nor Tamrin.

Tension thrummed through him, and he glanced

at the kitchen counter, where several knives lay sunk

into wooden sleeves. Strangers could mean nothing
good. Had they heard of Rylis’s presence and come to
take him away?

Rylis’s breathing quickened. The tone of the

unknown voice was harsh, with an almost
contemptuous edge to it. Whoever this was, he did

not seem the friendly sort.

Moving with a warrior’s stealth, Rylis made his

way closer to the main doorway, where the door was
slightly ajar. Outside, he could see a portion of what
was happening, his breath catching as he took in the
scene.

There were at least twelve male Eths standing in a

loose semicircle around Tamrin, who stood with a
blank face, only the tension of his jaw indicating all
was not well. Gharadeen was standing a few steps
behind Tamrin’s shoulder, and his glare at the
intruders was hot and angry, indication enough that

this was no pleasant visit.

The Eth who stood facing Tamrin was taller than

the healer by at least a hand’s width, a certain facial
resemblance making Rylis wonder if they could be
related. His hair was brown and white with an odd,
almost patterned effect that reminded Rylis of a
spotted cat. Even as Rylis watched, the Eth walked
around Tamrin, saying something in a low voice.
Tamrin did not respond, staring ahead blankly,
giving no sign of aggression in return.

Rylis felt his anger rise as he listened to the

obvious harangue taking place. He could not imagine
what Tamrin could have done to deserve this tongue
lashing, and the contempt in the tone grated against
Rylis’s nerves.

The other Eths stood with arms folded over their

chests, listening with small smirks. One in particular
stood out. He was the tallest of all there, broad and
somewhat heavier than Rylis would have imagined
an Eth could be. Long hair of darkest red, almost
black, was braided back, giving a severe look to his
narrow face. It seemed there must be a warrior caste
of Eths after all, for he wore several daggers and
leaned on an immense spear with a broad, four
bladed head—the first weapons Rylis had seen. This
Eth’s eyes were fixed on Tamrin, and the heat in his
gaze made something blaze in Rylis, made his fists
clench, his teeth grit.

The Eth confronting Tamrin had a torque of some

sort around his neck, perhaps indicating rank. It
looked to be gold and was intricately woven of
individual metal strands into ornate patterns. Perhaps
this was the Eth leader or royalty, if they possessed
such a system? Certainly his arrogance seemed to fit
the role.

At last he seemed to tire of the sound of his own

voice and stepped back, brushing harshly against
Tamrin’s shoulder as he went. He gestured to the

huge Eth with the spear, who passed the weapon to
another of his fellows, a cocky grin on his face as he
approached Tamrin.

The healer’s whole body stiffened, and the look

on his face held a rigid disgust, a tense rejection of the
other’s presence.

Rylis felt a growl begin to work up through his

throat as the tall Eth casually invaded Tamrin’s
personal space, standing so close to the smaller healer
that Tamrin had to lean backward slightly to look up
at his face.

The red-haired one let out a rumbling hum, his

large fingers reaching out to take some of Tamrin’s
unbraided hair in his grip. He smoothed his fingers
down the length, leaning down to whisper something
into Tamrin’s ear.

The healer swallowed hard and closed his eyes in

obvious distaste at whatever was said, though he did

not try to escape. Sharp claws stroked through the
long tresses, then moved to trace Tamrin’s jaw in a
proprietary manner that was obviously not at all
welcome to the healer.

Gharadeen was almost trembling, rage written all

over his features. He snarled something, and the
others looked at him as if they could not believe his
temerity in speaking at all.

Tamrin’s eyes snapped open, and he stepped

back sharply, placing himself between Gharadeen

and the others. He laid a hand on the young Eth’s
shoulder, obviously trying to still the boy’s temper,
while he himself faced the others, speaking with a
certain deference to the one with the torque.

That one looked as though he would dearly love

to sever Gharadeen’s head from his shoulders, one of

his hands resting on a long-handled dagger at his
waist.

The red-haired one simply snorted, amusement

on his features. He began to stalk towards Tamrin,
who backed away from him toward the house,
pushing Gharadeen behind his taller form as he went.

Rylis had seen enough. He flung the door wide

and stepped through, already in the air before he had
taken a step.

His heavy wings and aerial training gave him an

advantage his size did not. He did not pause, did not
turn aside from a collision as he gained enough

altitude to pass around Tamrin, banking sharply as he
made straight for the red-haired Eth.

His appearance was obviously a shock, and he

heard shouts from the other Eths even as the tall one
put up one arm to block the collision.

Rylis crossed his arms in a standard battle stance

and hit the Eth with all the force he was capable of.
The Eth was not ready for the strike, and he staggered
at the impact, spinning round and falling to one knee,
half stunned.

Rylis hardly flinched, though he certainly missed

the presence of his armor. He flapped his great wings,
and with a grace he would not have imagined he
possessed, landed upon a huge branch of one of the
great trees that the house was built from. He held
onto the trunk with one hand, an enraged growl

echoing downward, wings mantled in aggression.

Chaos reigned below, and shocked faces angled

in his direction. The supposed leader was enraged,
what sounded like Eth curses spewing from his lips.
He turned towards Tamrin—who was still backing
swiftly towards the house, protecting Gharadeen—
and began shouting at him.

Tamrin glanced up at Rylis for a moment, his

golden eyes flashing, then he looked back at his
tormentors and shouted something back at them, a
hint of triumph in his tone. He pushed the boy
through the door, then stood in the entryway, wings

spread, body braced, clearly daring them to try to
enter.

The red-haired one regained his feet, a snarl of

hatred twisting his lips, sharp teeth bared as he stared
with deadly intensity at Rylis.

Rylis grinned maliciously, crooking a finger in

clear invitation, his wings spreading in readiness,
bristled feathers making him look larger than he was.

The redhead seemed ready to comply, but a sharp

order from the Eth with the torque halted him mid-
stride.

The leader stared at Rylis for a long considering

moment, then turned on his heel and approached
Tamrin with swift tread. Without a word, without

warning, he backhanded Tamrin to the ground,
spitting on the ground beside him, before he gestured
to his companions and led the way along the path
away from the house.

The redhead growled at Rylis one last time, then

flung a comment to Tamrin before he followed, anger
in every line of his body.

Rylis waited a moment, ensuring it was not a

trick, before he glided down to the doorway.

Gharadeen was getting Tamrin to his feet and

guiding him back into the house. The young Eth
looked up as Rylis reached them, and for once there

was nothing of hatred in his eyes. Indeed, there might
even have been a hint of gratitude, though the boy
would never have admitted it.

Tamrin leaned on Gharadeen for a moment

before he regained his balance, his hand cradling his
jaw. He would not look at Rylis, as though ashamed,
and Rylis frowned in annoyance. He put the healer’s
arm around his shoulders and helped steady him as
they re-entered the house.

Gharadeen closed the heavy doors behind them, a

look of utter relief on his face as they closed out the
world. His hands were shaking, and Rylis realized the
youngster was more rattled than he would ever want
to show.

The events outside had obviously passed close to

a line Rylis did not understand.

Tamrin sank into a chair at the large table, letting

out a sigh, showing his own tensions were only now
being released. He said something softly to
Gharadeen, wincing as his jaw moved.

The young one darted off, and Rylis seated

himself across the table, having the distinct
impression that Tamrin did not need someone
hovering over him after what had happened.

Rylis looked at the bruise that was rapidly rising

upon that creamy skin and wanted to do serious
damage to the perpetrator. What was going on here

that Tamrin and his young charge seemed to be so
despised by his fellow Eths? Surely healers should be
revered here as they were in Melan.

Tamrin looked shaken, his quiet defiance, so

evident during the encounter, having given way to a
certain despair that made his large body slump
against the cold comfort of the hard chair.

Still the Eth would not look at Rylis, and he could

not bear the separation. Leaning over the table, he
gently took Tamrin’s hand away from the bruising

and cupped the area with his own fingers, careful not
to apply any pressure, but making it crystal clear that
he did not like what had been done.

Tamrin watched him with wide eyes, frozen in

place, looking like he would dearly like to protest.

Rylis smoothed the soft skin, noting the growing

swelling with an inner growl. How dare those
bastards touch what was his.

The thought did not seem at all strange to him.
“Who were they, and what in the hells did they

want?” he questioned as he sat back down, giving
Tamrin his space again. He expected no answer, but
had to speak to release some of the aggression that
still surged through him. The expectation of battle
was not so easy to still once called upon. His wings
rustled restlessly, unable to relax against his back.

“The Eth with the torque is Tamrin’s brother.”

Gharadeen had returned with such a silent tread that

Rylis had not even heard his approach.

The young Eth brought a bowl of cold water and

a soft cloth, gently setting it down in front of the
healer. Tamrin dipped the cloth and held it to his jaw
with a sigh of relief.

Rylis stared at Gharadeen, catching the boy’s arm

when he would have moved away. “Tell me. Why
would his own brother treat him so?” The ferocity of
his own tone surprised him.

Gharadeen stared at him for some time, then

looked at Tamrin and asked something, his
questioning tone sounding weary. Tamrin nodded,
not even trying to speak.

The boy seated himself, dark golden eyes

searching Rylis’s expression for something before he

finally nodded to himself. “That was Anamis, his
second oldest brother.”

Rylis nodded, frowning. “Anamis has some

status? The torque he wears…”

Gharadeen’s fingers tapped restlessly on the

tabletop, and he hesitated before answering, shooting
a concerned glance at Tamrin as he did so.

“He is a son of the Tarisna, the holy leader of the

Eths. The Tarisna is the political head of our people,
sent by the gods. He is considered a demigod
himself.”

Rylis blinked, then looked at Tamrin, who would

not meet his eyes.

“So this is a form of royalty?” his confusion grew

when Gharadeen shook his head.

“Royalty, at least from what I saw in your world,

is chosen by circumstance, birth, and the power to
control others. The Tarisna is sent. There is no
question of his divinity or his power. He then chooses
female Eth to be his consorts on this plane, and the
children are considered divine in their own right,

children of the gods.” The reverence in Gharadeen’s
tone was evident.

“So Tamrin is considered divine.” Rylis tried to

get this thought settled in his own mind. The prospect
did not seem so ridiculous, really. Memories of that
dance in the moonlight made the idea amazingly

easy. The Eth had an air about him that lent credence
to what Gharadeen was revealing.

“If so, why is his own brother treating him in

such a fashion, and why are you both here, alone,
isolated from others of your kind?” His whole body
tightened in anticipation of the answers. This had
been a mystery preying upon him from the moment
of his arrival here.

Gharadeen said something to Tamrin again, and

the healer shrugged, his eyes dull with some inner
pain.

The boy hesitated before resuming his talk. “The

children of the Tarisna are expected to perform
certain duties as befits their rank. They are full of
energies that most Eths do not possess, and therefore
they are expected to share these energies. If they are
male, they are expected to breed females, to spread
the powers among the populace. If they are female,
they are expected to produce many young for the
same purpose. In most cases, the Tarisna’s children,
whether male or female, are dominant, aggressive,
almost vicious. They are considered the protectors of

the people, and are the Tarisna’s guardians in times of
strife.”

He paused, perhaps waiting to see if Rylis had

questions, but the Melanian was simply absorbing the
information. He would not yet question until he had
more of the story.

Gharadeen’s eyes slid to Tamrin once more, and

the love in his eyes was evident. “My lord, Tamrin,
was different—an anomaly among the Tarisna’s
offspring. He was gentle and kind, and his energies
did not seem to produce strength and aggressiveness,
but were of a healing type never before seen. No one
quite knew what to make of this, though one of our
sages gave a prophecy that Tamrin’s energies would
save the Eths as a race. No one believed him. They
tried to force Tamrin into behaving like the others but
he refused. He would leave the ornate quarters of the
Tarisna’s family and go out among the ordinary

people. He worked with them, healed them, gave
them energy of a far different sort that seemed just as
potent, but not familiar.”

Rylis nodded, wanted the boy to continue.
“He was different, and differences breed fear. His

own family began to believe he was harmful to the
people, that he was weakening them with strange
ideas, with gentleness rather than ferocity. That is not
the way of the Eths. Therefore, the Tarisna gave
Tamrin to the greatest of the Eth warriors, pledging to

cross his son’s energies with that of Naish, the
redhead you saw earlier. The Tarisna gave Naish the
duty of taking Tamrin in hand, of using him in a
sexual manner that would blend their energies
together, make them one. Then that energy would be
given to the people as useable.”

Gharadeen broke off, his voice cracking ever so

slightly. “Naish has tried forever to break Tamrin, to
make him his totally, without a will of his own, but
Tamrin fled from his family and journeyed across
Teeathun to find a healer’s school. Here he hid for
many years, learning from the healers and perfecting
his energies to help others. By the time Naish and
Anamis found him, he was already a person of
importance here, looked to as a healer of great
worth.”

“When they found him, they tried to force him to

return, and the people here rose up to defend him.

Once they found out that Tamrin was a child of the
Tarisna, they regarded him as a young god sent to
help them. It led to chaos and rebellion, and the
Tarisna finally forced all those that lived here to flee.

“Tamrin remained, to try to keep the school open,

hoping that one day the healers and the people would
return. He refused his birthright, refused to return to
his family and resume his duties, and most of all
refused to accept Naish as his bonded. The Tarisna
exiled him, claiming if he wished to stay here, he

could stay for all of eternity, but that none could help
him, none could come here. If Tamrin was to leave, he
would be immediately sent back to Naish.”
Gharadeen growled under his breath, fingers curling
with deep-set anger. “They imprison him here, try to
break his will so he will become one of them, become

as vicious and brutal as they are. There are many Eths
who live nearby, who wish to return to Tamrin, but
they are too frightened to go against the Tarisna’s
exile edict. Among them are the Eths you rescued,
who have spoken up for you, argued for your
protection.”

Rylis shot a glance at Tamrin, but the healer was

slouched in his chair, his face unbearably weary. His
only movements were to rinse out the cloth in the
cold water and hold it back to his jaw. He seemed
little interested in the conversation between Rylis and
Gharadeen, even though he must have heard his own

name being used.

Rylis rubbed his face, thinking. “Why then are

you with him? You are far too young to have been
here when all this happened.”

Gharadeen nodded, his usual sullenness nowhere

in evidence. He seemed almost relieved to relate this
tale. Perhaps he wanted Rylis to understand, to be
more respectful towards Tamrin.

“I escaped my captors, and by instinct alone,

found my way back to Teeathun.” Gharadeen’s eyes

grew moist before he knuckled away the tears, his
mouth set in stubborn lines. “No one would accept
me back, not even my mother and father, so I found
my way here, and Tamrin took me in. He has been
everything to me ever since.” His glance at Rylis held
a certain degree of defiance, as if he thought the

Melanian would judge him. “He sees nothing wrong
with me. He helps me heal from all that happened,
even as I try to help him heal from what he
underwent with your kind.”

Rylis rubbed his brow. “It does not sound as if he

was much better treated among his own people.”
Gharadeen looked like he wanted to argue the point,
but after his own story, it was hard to tell who had
been more cruel. It seemed Tamrin had received no
more mercy from his own people than from the
Melanians who considered him animal.

The story only served to urge Rylis’s

possessiveness higher.

It was quite obvious Tamrin was not appreciated

among his own people; Rylis himself, as king, would
have the power to protect him among the Melanians.

His vague plans began to coalesce.

Chapter Nine

Rylis had been in Teeathun for almost three

weeks before Tamrin came to him one day with
another Eth in tow: a woman who seemed greatly old
for her kind.

After his previous experiences, Rylis was cautious

with this intruder on their peace, but Tamrin seemed
easy with her, familiar in a way that could only come
from years of friendship.

Gharadeen introduced her as Celemeea, head of

the elders. It was she, apparently, who had guided
Tamrin in what needed to be done to resurrect the
barrier. Rylis could not help resenting that, even if it
now made perfect sense.

She felt Rylis’s anger clearly, that much was

certain, but she seemed disdainful of him in a way
that set his teeth on edge. Here, it was evident that
Melanians were considered animals, just as Melanians
considered the Eths.

It gave him new insight into how Tamrin must

have felt during his captivity—gave him more
understanding into the pressures the healer had to
have been under from those he respected.

His attention veered as Gharadeen explained that

Celemeea had at last worked out a way to release
Rylis from the confines of Teeathun.

Rylis forgot to breathe. He shot a glance at

Tamrin, but the healer would not meet his eyes, his
own face set in deeply controlled lines. It was

impossible to see what he thought of this sudden
development, but Rylis could not imagine that
Tamrin was pleased, except perhaps for Rylis’s
happiness.

By the look in those golden eyes, Rylis’s

departure could not lead to any sort of similar
happiness for Tamrin.

It seemed surreal that he could leave. Rylis fairly

quivered with eagerness.

“When?” he questioned Gharadeen, his voice

harsh with emotion.

The young Eth glanced at him, then at Tamrin

with concern evident in his expression. “She says
tomorrow morning we will travel to the barrier, and
she and Tamrin will perform a ceremonial gathering
of energy that should provide a gate through.”

Rylis wanted to laugh at the release of his

anxieties and fears.

One more night.

* * *

Supper that evening was a silent affair.
Tamrin seemed loath to either eat or speak, and

Gharadeen kept casting anxious glances between his
mentor and Rylis as though he wanted to say
something, but was unsure what. At last the boy

merely pushed the food around his plate and was
prudently silent, for what was there to say?

Rylis ate little, as well; his eyes were fixed upon

Tamrin with predatory intent. Thoughts swirled
around his mind like frantic insects, and he could
hardly focus on anything but one need.

If this was his last night here, he would have the

Eth. There was no doubt in his mind at all. He would
not leave here without tasting that sweetness once
more, and he felt strongly that Tamrin held just as
powerful a need.

When the meal was over and the dishes washed,

Gharadeen discreetly disappeared on some mission of
his own, and Tamrin and Rylis were left to their own
devices.

Rylis did not even hesitate. Grasping Tamrin’s

forearm, he headed down the corridor with long
strides, towing the Eth behind him.

Tamrin did not resist, but neither did he seem

particularly eager. His eyes seemed full of secrets and
sad thoughts, neither of which Rylis wanted to
acknowledge.

When they reached Rylis’s room, the Melanian

closed the door firmly behind them, then pushed
Tamrin up against the nearest wall, a growl of need
escaping his throat as he pulled the taller male down
for a meeting of lips that was anything but gentle.

The Eth allowed the force, but it took long

moments before those long-fingered hands slowly
slid around Rylis’s waist, pulling the Melanian closer
against Tamrin’s hard, muscled body.

Rylis could not get enough of Tamrin’s taste. It

was beyond words; a passionate elixir that seemed to
go straight to Rylis’s head so that he stepped outside
himself, more needy and careless with it than he
could ever remember being in his life. He became a
being of sensation, frantic for the next touch, the next
taste. Wrapping his hands in the long white hair, he
held Tamrin down, letting his tongue map every bit
of the Eth’s sweet mouth.

Tamrin groaned, a rumble in his chest, and began

to respond in full, pulling Rylis hard against him, half
crushing him as he slanted his lips over Rylis’s with
more force. Rylis murmured against those lips,
arching up for more, his hands releasing their prize
for the purpose of feverishly working on the ties of
Tamrin’s shirt. He released the wings first, then the
front, pushing the cloth off and drawing a deep
breath as that creamy flesh was exposed to his gaze.

His tongue laved over the nearest nipple, and

Tamrin clutched at him, a gasp escaping. Rylis
growled and caught the nub in his teeth, unable to get
enough of the taste of his lover.

Tamrin whimpered, and Rylis shuddered with

the intensity of his own want at that small sound. The

fact that he controlled the larger male, that Tamrin
would do anything for him, was so very erotic.

He pulled Tamrin down upon the bed, with eager

hands making short work of the Eth’s light pants.
Then he stood back and stared with avid eyes at the
vision spread before him.

Tamrin lay against the dark covers of the bed,

wings spread beneath him, one leg tucked up and to
the side and the other sprawled over the side of the
bed. His pale skin was flawless in the half-light of the
room, and his wings seemed to glow ever so faintly in
the dimness.

His half-hard sex lay over his thigh, as pale as the

rest of him, and it also seemed to glow. That
difference alone made Rylis’s body quiver with need
even greater than before, and he had to swallow the
urge to possess the body before him with such force
that Tamrin would bear the marks forever.

This was his.
He removed his own clothing with impatient

tugs, never taking his eyes from the Eth. Tamrin lay
motionless, making no attempt to cover himself or

flinch away from the heat in Rylis’s stare. Indeed, he
smiled ever so slightly, one hand reaching down to
gently caress his shaft, before taking it in hand and
slowly pumping it, his belly tightening with pleasure.

Rylis paused, so taken with this image that he

could have stood there all night. He had never

counted himself a voyeur, but at this moment, the
sheer beauty of the scene was etched upon his mind’s
eye.

The Eth moaned, his fingers tightening upon his

shaft, his other hand coming to cup heavy balls and
stroke fingertips over the sac, the skin shifting and
moving under the light touch.

Rylis licked suddenly dry lips, breath shivering in

his throat as he slowly knelt upon the bed and then
stalked forward, his own shaft so hard it hurt, so close
to explosion he was afraid to touch it.

The Eth paused in his self-pleasure as Rylis came

within touching distance, and then he abandoned his
own body in favor of Rylis’s.

Rylis groaned as the long fingers caressed up his

sides, the claws rasping lightly over his sensitive skin,
leaving goose bumps in their wake. He dipped his
head then, unable to resist any longer, and captured
Tamrin’s lips with his.

Tamrin responded with a fierceness that took

Rylis aback for a second, then caused him to growl in
his throat, his lips slanting with more force over the

Eth’s. Tamrin arched beneath him, a silent plea that
had Rylis shaking with the desire to possess, to
utterly claim this ethereal being.

Rylis ran trembling fingers up his own shaft,

gathering large drops of moisture from the tip before
presenting his fingers to Tamrin’s entrance. The Eth

froze, his body stiffening in instinctive rejection,
before his expression smoothed and he seemed to
consciously relax his large body to accept the
intrusion.

Rylis could wait no longer. He plunged the first

finger in, little caring that Tamrin cried out more in
pain than pleasure. There was only the need to be
inside, to be gripped by that tightness, that heat.

Two fingers speared deep, and Tamrin

whimpered, hands leaving Rylis to fist in the covers,
his face contorted as he struggled to accept the touch.

Rylis did not care to prepare the Eth further. His

own pleasure was paramount at that moment, and he
simply hastily smeared moisture over the head of his
shaft to accommodate entry, before placing his shaft
at Tamrin’s entrance and beginning to force his way
in.

Tamrin’s expression became somewhat panicked,

and he tried to draw away, his lust-filled eyes
beginning to clear into expectation of pain. Rylis did
not pause, his hands gripping Tamrin’s hips cruelly
tight as he jabbed his hips hard.

Tamrin gave out a pained grunt, and his eyes

squeezed shut before opening again, a hint of
pleading in their depths as he looked at Rylis.

Rylis froze, meeting those eyes, his hazy thoughts

suddenly clearing.

What in the hells was he doing? He had never

been a gentle lover, true, but also never had he been
brutal. Where was this coming from?

He gritted his teeth, holding himself still, not sure

what had triggered such selfishness but unwilling to
unleash it once more.

A clawed hand reached up, caressed his cheek.
Rylis closed his eyes, wanting to lean in to the

touch, but holding himself back. He would not care—
caring was for the weak, ones who begged to be hurt.
Not Rylis, not the commander of the Melanian army.

He could no longer hold back.
Two hard thrusts, and Rylis was balls-deep in the

healer. Tamrin froze, his eyes tightly shut, a single
tear slipping down one cheek.

Rylis licked it away and tried to control himself,

waiting. Tamrin panted beneath him, then seemed to
move beyond the stretching, his body arching just
slightly, an indication of acceptance. Rylis moaned,
hanging his head, then set up a heavy, pounding
rhythm that satisfied his need to be as deep inside
Tamrin as possible.

It took some time for him to remember that

perhaps Tamrin needed some stimulation of his own
to be able to enjoy this encounter. Rylis sucked in a
deeper breath, trying to restrain his selfish desire, and
angled his thrusts to strike that pleasure spot within
the Eth.

Tamrin arched, a startled cry escaping his throat,

his fingers scrabbling at the bed, claws shredding the
covers as he writhed under Rylis’s well-aimed
thrusts.

Rylis growled in his chest, his heated gaze fixed

upon the Eth sprawled beneath him.

This was his, damn it. His, and never would he let

Tamrin go.

He balanced himself and reached down to finally

grasp that long, thick Eth shaft, feeling a surge of lust
at the mere touch of that silken skin upon his palm
and fingers. He jerked it harshly, wanting to see

Tamrin come undone, to know the Eth had no hope of
resisting this brutal taking—because he loved Rylis.

Love, what was that but a tool to use to bend

others to his will? He had never considered the matter
before, but now it made sense. He had seen the
results of love between his parents.

Never would he allow such a thing to mar his

judgment or make him a fool. If Tamrin gave him this
freely, then Rylis saw no shame in using it against the
Eth. Rylis knew what was best for them both. The

healer was too weak, too gentle to be able to look after
himself. That had become abundantly clear from the
events Gharadeen had spoken of and what had
happened with Tamrin’s brother.

Rylis was the one in charge, and he would control

Tamrin’s every move, every thought, until he knew

Rylis was no weakling to be used, until the Eth
realized it was he himself who would submit to
Rylis’s force.

What use was gentleness such as Tamrin

possessed in a world so brutal as Melan and Teeathun
itself? Rylis would see that Tamrin was forever safe.

He would soon understand that Rylis would care

for him, tend to him, in exchange for the
unquestioning love that the healer seemed so willing
to give. It seemed fair enough to the Melanian.

He bent his head to grasp Tamrin’s neck in his

teeth, biting down.

The healer cried out, a hand coming up to try to

push him off, but Rylis resisted, persisting until he
drew blood. Only then did he draw back, satisfied
with the mark. Tamrin put a shaking hand to the
wound, his eyes wide and pained upon Rylis’s
contorted face.

Rylis pulled the Eth’s legs over his shoulders and

began to pound into the larger male, chasing his own
completion. His fingers tightened upon Tamrin’s
shaft, and he felt the pulsing as Tamrin gave a silent

scream and came, hot seed spattering between their
heaving bodies.

Rylis felt a surge of power so strong it seemed he

fed off the energy of the Eth at that moment, then he
himself came so hard, he nearly fainted with the
pleasure of it, pleasure that bordered on exquisite

pain.

He collapsed on the sweating, trembling body of

the Eth, his own arms none too steady as they
wrapped tightly around the healer.

He smiled against the pale skin.
He could not wait for tomorrow and what it

would bring.

* * *

They made their way through the shadows of the

great trees, a strange stillness surrounding them. Not

a bird call, not a whisper of wind. It was as if the
forest itself held its breath in anticipation.

Rylis breathed deeply of the rich, moist air of the

early morning, more at peace with Teeathun now that
he knew there was hope for freedom. This place of
simplicity and earth energy was no part of him,
though he had felt moments of connection when he
was with Tamrin.

Perhaps with time, he might have…
Rylis shook his head. This was not for him. He

was a being of violence and strife, not someone of
peace and harmony. He was a warrior and knew how
to be nothing else.

He shot a glance at Tamrin, who walked beside

Celemeea, helping her along the faint path with
unswerving courtesy. Tamrin had been utterly silent
since they had woken that morning curled around
each other, and now his body language was tense, his
expression closed and withdrawn.

Rylis had not tried to break the silence between

them.

Gharadeen trailed them, seemingly sunk in

morose contemplation, concern for his mentor
evident.

Rylis cast his musings aside, his spirits rising as

the gloom began to lift, the reflection of the barrier

growing ever brighter the closer they came. When at
last the shimmering expanse came into view, Rylis
had to struggle to contain all the emotions that
wanted expression.

So close.
Were his men still on the other side, or had they

retreated, gone for aid? He could not imagine them
completely leaving, not with the stubbornness that
was so much a part of their character. Still, at least
some of them must think him dead—or worse. Soon

he could ease their fears, be back in their presence
where he was meant to be. Soon this episode would
be but a memory.

Tamrin was staring at the barrier as though it

were his nemesis, as perhaps it was. Certainly it was
the reason for a lot of pain in his life—and now it

would forever part him from Rylis.

Still, the healer did not flinch from his task.

Although his face was drawn in deep lines, he
stepped up quietly to Celemeea’s side when the elder
gestured. He shot a final, agonized look at Rylis and
then turned his total attention to what needed to be
done to free him.

Rylis felt a surge of gratitude, a small sense of

wonder within him at the ability of the Eth to give up
that which he loved in order to give Rylis happiness.
Rylis was quite certain that no such nobility existed
within himself.

The elder and the healer stood quietly facing each

other, Tamrin with his back to the barrier and
Celemeea facing it, her eyes intent and focused. They
began to murmur softly, and Rylis could feel the rise
of power as they gathered energy to create the gate.

This at least was similar to what Melanian mages

did to portal, although not with earth energy and
never with such skill as these two showed.

Because Rylis understood portal and/or gate

energy, it made it all so easy.

He focused on Tamrin. The healer was unaware

of anything around him, deep in trance, his face lined
with effort as he joined with the elder in forming the
energy into something usable.

Gharadeen watched with wonder and awe in his

eyes, his face shining with pride as he watched the

healer.

The barrier flared, resisting, then seemed to

sullenly surrender, a dark spot slowly appearing
upon its gleaming, ever-moving surface. Rylis took an
involuntary step forward, though he knew the gate
was not yet ready for him. His eager eyes watched its
formation, his body shaking with anticipation he
could not control.

Sweat began to bead on both Celemeea’s and

Tamrin’s faces, their bodies beginning to tremble ever
so slightly.

The gate twisted and rolled, resisting, then

suddenly snapped open. Rylis could see the other
side clearly. The two Eths struggled now to stabilize
the gate. It could not be held any length of time—that
was evident. Not with the barrier obviously fighting
back.

Tamrin opened his eyes, dull with strain, and

gestured urgently to Rylis.

Gharadeen turned to look at Rylis. “Go,” the boy

said sharply. “You will only have a moment.”

Rylis nodded, his eyes never leaving the healer.

Tamrin struggled to keep his eyes open and upon
Rylis, but he had to close them again to focus.

Rylis smiled.
He was moving then, swift and sure, his wings

spread. He hit Tamrin with all the force he could

gather, his arms wrapping around the Eth, half lifting,
half dragging him through the gate. There was a cry
of horror from Gharadeen, abruptly cut off as the gate
imploded with an echoing boom that shook the
ground.

They hit the ground hard, Tamrin trapped

beneath the smaller Melanian. Rylis stared down into
stunned golden eyes, triumph flooding his body with
energy.

Tamrin did not move for long moments, his body

shaking from the abrupt cessation of the energy he
had been manipulating. He simply stared up at Rylis

in confused silence until a shout broke the shock.

Rylis looked over his shoulder, a grin tilting his

lips as he saw his men streaming from the
encampment, weapons in hand.

Tamrin shot a look at the running Melanians,

horror beginning to contort his face. He shoved
frantically at Rylis, but the Melanian held to him
firmly, pinning him. Tamrin made a desperate sound
in his throat and raised a hand, claws ready. It
hovered in the air, aimed at Rylis’s chest.

It never landed. Tamrin shook with the need to

escape, but he did not attack Rylis. Rylis never
moved, never took his eyes from the Eth.

Complete panic appeared in those golden eyes

then, and Tamrin twisted and thrashed beneath
Rylis’s weight. He managed to half dislodge the

smaller male and tried to roll to his feet, but Rylis
rolled with him, landing on the healer’s back, holding
tightly to his wings.

Tamrin cried out Gharadeen’s name, his beautiful

voice cracking, one hand reaching out towards
Teeathun—then Rylis’s men were upon them.

Several leapt upon Tamrin, pinning him

completely.

The Eth refused to give up, or perhaps panic

prevented him from thinking clearly, because he
continued to struggle against the hopeless odds, eyes
fixed upon the forest, so near and yet so very far from

his touch.

“Commander!”
Rylis was tugged to his feet, and Grannian flung

his arms around him, completely breaking military
protocol, tears of joy running down his shocked face.
“By the gods, you got out!”

Rylis clapped him on the shoulder with some

discomfort at his second in command’s obvious
emotions. He was not used to such a display.

Grannian felt it perhaps, because he took half a

pace back, beginning to grin with relief before he
looked down at the struggling Eth with a raised brow.
“A prisoner?”

Rylis shook his head. “For now, maybe, until I

can persuade him his home is with me.” He turned

back and knelt by Tamrin, capturing the healer’s head
between his palms and trying to calm him.

“Shh. Shh. It is all right. I will take care of you.”
Tamrin collapsed, exhausted and trembling,

covered in dirt from his thrashing. He stared up at
Rylis, golden eyes accusing, an echo of the betrayal
Rylis had felt.

Rylis met him look for look, feeling no shame.

Had this being not done the same to him? Now it was
the Eth’s turn, and there would be no escape from
this. Rylis would see to that. The Eth could not return.
He would be so much better off with Rylis, but it

would take time for the Eth to come to that
conclusion.

Rylis gestured to his men to raise the healer to his

feet, but the moment he stood, Tamrin began to fight
again, and this time he did not scruple to use his
claws. It was only the quickness of his men that
enabled them to avoid being gouged, and the fact that
Rylis leapt into the fray, wrapping his arms around
Tamrin from the rear, pinning his arms down so the
claws were hampered.

“Bring me a shot of something to put him under,”

he yelled to Grannian. “He is going to hurt us and
himself at this rate!”

Grannian ran to obey, and Rylis struggled to

retain his hold on the larger Eth. At last he used a
martial move to sweep Tamrin’s feet from under him.

The Eth went down hard, grunting with pain as he hit
the hard-packed earth.

Rylis lay over Tamrin’s chest, holding his

shoulders down as his men held grimly onto the Eth’s
wrists and ankles.

The Eth snarled, teeth gleaming in the sunlight,

his golden eyes half mad with terror. He bucked
under Rylis’s weight, too far gone to hear Rylis’s
calming voice, or react to the stroking touch that
sought to allay his fear.

There was a moment of doubt in Rylis’s heart as

he saw the results of his actions. Here, out of the

safety of Teeathun, Tamrin’s skin glowed paler than
he had realized, the sun seeming to strike the Eth
with brutal force. Indeed, the golden eyes were half
slit with shock at the sudden brilliant light, and Rylis
began to realize how truly out of his element the
healer was.

He would have to be coddled if he were to

survive this harsher climate.

Rylis kept up his soothing murmurs, stroking the

white hair, but Tamrin tossed his head, throwing his

hand off with such a glare of rising fury that Rylis
knew he was going to have a battle on his hands. It
seemed Tamrin was not as cognizant of his happy
future as Rylis would have hoped.

The Eth had not wanted Rylis to leave, had not

wanted to lose him. Why then would he not be

pleased at this turn of events? Rylis’s thoughts turned
to the past, and he cursed his own thoughtlessness.
Tamrin had been outside Teeathun only once in his
life, and that had been as a captive. Surely he knew
Rylis would not—yet, the Eth had held only to the
memory of a small boy, not a grown male with a will
of his own.

Rylis would show him what it meant to be his. If

he truly loved Rylis, Tamrin would come to accept it.

Grannian came racing back, needle in hand. Rylis

and his men pinned Tamrin down, and Rylis pushed
up the shirt slightly so Grannian could find a spot.

Tamrin yelped in shock at the prick of the needle,

trying to turn his head to see what was happening,
his wings struggling to spread out against the press of
Melanians. Rylis covered the Eth’s eyes, waiting,
keeping up his low-voiced reassurances.

It was only moments before Tamrin began to

become drowsy and pliant, his body loosening under
the confining hands that held him. They waited,
making sure it was no trick, until the healer’s eyes
rolled up into his head and he went utterly limp.

Rylis could breathe again, a grin tilting his lips,

confidence in what he had done returning.

From this moment, things could only get better.
He stroked back the white hair, considering what

the future would bring. He would bring Tamrin to the
capital, to the palace, and there he could show his

people that Eths were worth protecting. Tamrin
would be Rylis’s—lover—and an ambassador for
those of Teeathun.

That was a perfectly logical and rational reason

for taking Tamrin without giving the healer a choice.

Chapter Ten

Rylis rode at the head of his men, enjoying the

sunshine that beat down upon his shoulders. He
wondered if he would ever take such a thing for
granted again. It had been four days since he had
escaped Teeathun, and it seemed he could not get
enough sunlight to satisfy his craving for it.

His men had given him a boisterous, joyous

welcome, and he learned how they had sought to

enter Teeathun through a variety of methods,
fortunately discovering the deadliness of the barrier
before anyone actually got hurt.

The stories of their faithfulness to him, their

determination, made him warm in a part of himself
that had long been cold and hardened.

They truly cared, and not just as men under his

command, for it would have been perfectly acceptable
for them to retreat to a safe distance and wait for
orders to come from the palace.

And orders had come. If Rylis was found, they

were to retreat from the vicinity of Teeathun with all
speed and get him safely home.

Rylis grimaced a little upon learning of the recall.

The king would never let him out now. Something of
this magnitude would not be forgotten and
apparently, as the heir, Rylis was too precious to
endanger in some small backwater of a province, no
matter how much conflict might occur because of

their withdrawal.

This was his last adventure, no doubt, if Kiell had

anything to say about it, and say he would.

Rylis sighed and turned in the saddle to look back

along the lines of men to where a wagon rocked upon
the rough road. It was heavily guarded, and a thick
cover was draped over the back of its high sides,
concealing what it carried, and protecting its precious
burden from the sun.

Rylis had thought it best to leave Tamrin drugged

until he had him within the grounds of the palace
itself. The further from Teeathun they got, the safer

Rylis felt. It was highly doubtful that any of the Eths
would consider rescuing Tamrin, especially with the
way they had treated him, but one never knew for
sure, and Rylis wanted no surprises.

Rylis faced forward again, brooding eyes fixed on

their destination.

They were within sight of the city now. Reesh,

jewel and power center of Melan. Both Rylis’s home
and his prison.

“Sir?”

Rylis glanced to his left. One of his men had

ridden up, holding in his impatient horse with one
hand. “The Eth, sir. He is awakening.”

Rylis hesitated. It was overly long for Tamrin to

be under these drugs, not knowing how he might
react to long-term exposure. Perhaps it was time for

him to wake. It would make more of an impression
on people if Tamrin seemed less a prisoner and more
an acquaintance of the heir.

To have Tamrin awake was to show people what

Eths were like, to prevent their mistreatment.

He nodded. It was a noble cause he planned.
“Let him wake,” he instructed the man. “Watch

him closely, for he will no doubt try to flee as soon as
he can stand by himself.”

The man nodded and saluted before whirling his

horse and returning back down the line to the wagon.
Rylis had no doubt his orders would be carried out to

the letter.

As they drew closer, they passed through the

squalid quarters of the poor, grouped against the
outside walls of the city. These people were a
problem, as they were elsewhere in Melan. No one
wanted them on their doorstep, and yet someone had
to take them in, as they were Melanian, no matter
their financial state. They always made Rylis uneasy.
He felt he should be feeling something when he

gazed upon them, as though they were a sign of
something important.

Kiell had taught him to ignore them, but Rylis

found that difficult, though he could not have said
why.

These poor stopped their myriad endeavors and

stood watching in an eerie silence. They eyed Rylis,
measuring him, and then their collective gaze seemed
to fasten upon the wagon. It was no doubt evident
that whatever it held had to be precious, guarded as it
was by the heir’s own troops.

Rylis felt tense, though he tried to keep both the

emotion and the energy under tight control. It would
not do for these people to riot as they had before. He
wanted only to pass through their ranks and enter the
city and its cleanliness, its culture of plenty that he
understood.

These people were discomfort and irritation all in

one.

There was a shout from above, and the massive

doors began to groan open. This western gate was
seldom used, and it took a fair amount of effort for
the city guards to work past the stiffness and coax it
to finally give up its resistance.

Rylis heaved a sigh of relief as they passed

through the thick portico and into the safety of the
city. Here was culture and civilization. Here was
sanity.

Home.
They clattered through the cobbled streets, richly

dressed people pausing in their daily routine to view
the newcomers, several of them smiling and waving
as they realized it was the heir, come home at last.

Others took up the cry, and Rylis felt his heart

warm at this enthusiastic welcome. These were his
people, his kind, the ones he would rule when he
stepped up. To look after them would not be so bad.
He could do that. He was a natural protector, after all.

His worries of the future eased slightly, and he

waved back, a smile slowly dawning on his stern
features.

It only made the people love him more, it seemed,

and it was a noisy and boisterous crowd that followed
his progress through the city. Heart-warming though
it was, Rylis was glad to see the ornate gates of the
palace up ahead. He was exhausted and worn, his

adrenalin beginning to fade now that he had arrived,
now that the nightmare of Teeathun was over at last.

The gates swung open with noiseless splendor,

and they passed under the great, carved arch that had
seen many kings come and go through the ages. Rylis
had a superstitious wish that it would judge him
kindly in times to come, when he took his place in the
royal line.

They entered the great courtyard. The massive

area was paved with white limestone interspersed

with colorful stone mosaics of such gigantic
proportion that one had to be up in the palace itself to
truly appreciate the full picture and scale of the art. It
had been designed to be seen at its best from the great
hall, which was two stories up. The southern portion
of the hall’s balconies looked out over the courtyard

and there, the mosaics were a wonder to see.

The white limestone continued on the facing of

the palace itself, with golden limestone intricately
woven in patterns to create some relief from the
gleaming expanse.

It was so familiar to Rylis, and he could not keep

the smile off his face. Never had he thought he would
be so happy, so joyous to return here, when he had
thought of it as a prison. Now it seemed a haven in
comparison to what he had been through. How
quickly a mind could change its views due to
experiences.

A shout echoed through the bustling courtyard as

servants ran forth to get the horses. Rylis had just
dismounted, his body aching with exhaustion, and he
swung round at the sound of that voice.

Kiell, his king, his beloved mentor, stood at the

base of the curving stairs that led up to the palace
proper, a haven of calm in the midst of chaos.

Rylis left his horse to the servants, winding his

way eagerly through the milling mass. At last he was

free of impediments and strode forward with long
steps, almost running up the few steps to reach Kiell.

They flung arms around each other and, to his

shock, Rylis could feel tears rising to his own eyes, a
choked sob echoing in his throat. Kiell’s arms
tightened, then a hand rose to stroke Rylis’s hair.

There was a catch in the king’s deep voice.

“My boy—oh, my gods, I am so glad to see you.

When Grannian sent me the message of your
taking…” The king’s breath quavered for a long
moment. “I cannot believe I have you back. Thank the
gods.”

Rylis held to him like a place of refuge, unable to

lift his head away from that strong shoulder, unable
to face the world at the moment.

Kiell finally moved hands to his shoulders and

pushed him back a little so he could meet his eyes.
The king gave him a little shake that got Rylis back to

himself, so that he took a deep breath and stood
straighter.

“That’s my boy. Strong as always. I—”
A ruckus in the courtyard and the sound of

shocked gasps made them both pause. Rylis half
turned as Kiell’s eyes sharpened upon something,
disbelief shining in their depths.

“By the gods! That is him, isn’t it? The one we

had before.” Kiell’s voice held a certain reverent
memory and an edge of lust that made Rylis frown.

Rylis’s men had taken Tamrin from the wagon,

but the Eth was not going quietly. Groggy as he must
be and weak for it, he was struggling and snarling
despite the fact his hands were bound behind him.

Rylis realized he would have to go down and try

and calm the healer before people got a bad

impression, but then Tamrin looked up at Rylis,
before his eyes slid to the king.

Immediately the Eth froze, such a look of fear and

loathing on his face that Rylis flinched from the force
of it.

He had forgotten, foolishly forgotten what Kiell

had been involved in so long ago and how it linked to
his Eth. It had not occurred to him how it would
affect both males when they met.

Tamrin shot a glance back to Rylis, the look of

utter betrayal, of wounded dismissal making the
Melanian flinch. He put out a hand, but the Eth

averted his eyes, standing passively then in the
multiple grips upon him, head lowered.

Rylis was torn on what to deal with next.
“He is not a prisoner, Uncle.” Always had the

king insisted that he use that title. “I have brought
him as an ambassador of his people, so that we might
learn of them, stop the animosity and bloodshed.”

Kiell looked at him fully then, a small smile

playing at the corners of his lips. “Is that what you
have told yourself, my boy? I think you fool yourself.

Eths have a magic about them that makes all who
meet them want to possess, to own. I have felt it, your
father felt it. It takes over your mind, makes you do
things you would never ordinarily consider. They
have an aura of sexuality that blurs the lines of right
and wrong. They are not beings who belong here,

among us. Their energies, whatever they might be
like in Teeathun, outside create a madness among us.
Whatever your excuses, Rylis, you will do things to
him you had never considered possible. He will bring
out a darkness within you that you never knew you
possessed.”

Rylis stared at him, shocked. “But I—that is not

why I want him, Uncle.”

Kiell put a hand on his shoulder, meeting him eye

to eye. “You have not had him? You have not felt the
desire to mark him, keep him as yours alone?”

“No, I…” Rylis shivered, remembering the

strange emotions and thoughts that had led him to
take the Eth from Teeathun itself. “He said he loved
me…” he suddenly blurted, then flushed deeply,
wondering what in the heavens had made him say
such a thing.

Kiell’s eyebrow rose in surprise. “And how did

you learn this?”

“A young Eth…” Rylis felt a surge of guilt

consume him at the thought of Gharadeen, alone
now, grieving for his mentor. “He spoke our language

after having been captured and then escaping back to
Teeathun.”

Kiell tilted his head slightly in a manner that

showed his curiosity. “You will have to tell me of
your time in Teeathun. You seem in better health than
I would have expected, given the manner of your

capture.”

Rylis flushed further, wondering how he was

going to tell Kiell about the ceremony that had re-
established the barrier.

The king’s eyes moved back to Tamrin, hunger

awakening in their depths. “Whatever you choose to
do with him, Rylis, beware. Whatever he has told
you, Eths are not capable of loving our kind. He will
bring you down into darkness.”

Rylis shivered at the stark certainty in those

words.

* * *

It was extremely late in the day by the time Rylis

managed to make it to his personal wing of the
palace. His men were as exhausted as he was, and
there was relief in their expressions as he sent them
off once he had reached his own doors. The royal
guards would protect him from here, and his men

could at last rest, knowing their commander was safe
and returned to them.

Grannian grasped his forearm, meeting his eyes.

“Good to have you home, Commander.” The simple
words conveyed so much more.

Rylis managed a tired smile and returned the

gesture. “Good to be home, my friend.”

“Do you need a guard in the room, perhaps?”

Grannian’s worried glance at the doors made it quite
plain what he was speaking of.

Rylis shook his head. “The guards finally bound

him with iron, since he would not stop trying to
escape. He is no threat to me.”

Grannian looked back at him, a hint of

puzzlement in his brown eyes. “If you wish to have
him as an ally, Commander, are you sure all this is
going to sway him to becoming that?”

Rylis made a weary gesture with one hand. “I will

deal with that as I can. I cannot persuade him of
anything if I cannot keep him here. He will
understand given time.”

Grannian did not seem as sure, but he seemed to

choke back his doubts, only nodding. “I will let you
sleep then, Commander. May the gods keep you in
your rest.” He saluted sharply.

“And you as well, my friend.” Rylis nodded to

the four guards who stood at attention at the doors,
and they swung them open for him.

Once he was within his sanctuary, the doors

closed behind him, he stood for a moment, taking a
deep breath and trying to calm his mind into
something that would approve of sleep.

A clank of chain made him look to his left—.
Tamrin sat upon the floor, arms banding his

knees, chin resting on them as he watched Rylis. His
eyes glowed in the faint light of the room, and there
was nothing at all in their depths. They were empty,
cold—completely unlike the healer Rylis had known
in Teeathun.

Rylis could not help shivering at that stare, guilt

rising to choke him. He knew he had done the right
thing, knew he had saved Tamrin from himself, but
how to get that across to the Eth when they could not
even speak each other’s language?

He walked over to the Eth, standing above him

with a deep frown creasing his brow.

Tamrin did not deign to look up. He remained

staring ahead, only the growing tension of his body
showing that he knew Rylis was there at all.

Finally Rylis squatted down so they were face to

face. “I did not do this to hurt you,” he whispered,
wishing with all his might that he could get his
sentiments through to the healer. “You are so much
better off with me, away from there. Here you will
live as the royalty you are—my companion, my
lover.” He reached out to touch Tamrin’s cheek, and

the Eth turned away sharply, lips drawing back from
sharp teeth.

Rylis’s hand hovered for a moment before

dropping in resignation. It seemed he was not to be
forgiven so easily. Not that he had expected less. He,
after all, had not truly forgiven Tamrin either.

This seemed only fair.
He sighed, then finally rose to his feet. He had

wanted Tamrin to join him in the great bed, but he
was too tired to deal with the resistance the Eth was
displaying. Sleep first, and then he would begin
Tamrin’s taming.

He moved about the room, gathering cushions

and covers together and depositing them at Tamrin’s
feet. The Eth did not move to touch them,
maintaining his frozen posture.

“Sleep well.” Rylis whispered softly, trying to

convey reassurance, before he moved to his own bed,

not even bothering to remove his clothing before
sliding under the thick covers and falling instantly
and soundlessly asleep.

* * *

When he woke the next morning, Tamrin had not

moved, nor apparently had he slept. Dark circles lay

beneath the golden eyes, and Rylis felt concern rise
within him. If only the Eth would be reasonable, Rylis
could remove the iron so Tamrin could take strength
from the earth.

Breakfast was brought in, the servants gawking at

the Eth. Tamrin only raised his chin slightly and

stared past them with such a look of regal contempt
that there could be no doubt of his royal lineage.
There was much whispering as the servants finally
left and closed the doors silently in their wake.

Rylis sighed, gathering several different fruits

from the trays as well as a mug of water, before he
approached the healer. Kneeling at his side, he
presented the plate and the mug with mute appeal.

Tamrin slowly turned his head and met his eyes,

appraising him emotionlessly.

Rylis did not flinch back, only settled himself

more comfortably on the floor, his knee touching

Tamrin’s thigh. Tamrin’s stare wavered, and he
finally looked away, lips drawn into a thin, grim line.

“At least I ate.” Rylis murmured. “Don’t be so

stubborn that you harm yourself, Tamrin. Even I was
not stupid enough to weaken myself in such a way.”

He had not expected the healer to respond, but

Tamrin seemed to listen to the tone more than the
words he could not understand, and he turned back,
wary eyes watching Rylis’s expression for clues.

Rylis laid down the plate and mug, before picking

up one of the fruits, a ghauv. A reminder of their past.

The Eth stared at it, the lines of his face easing

somewhat. It was quite evident he remembered the
long ago tasting, but it took forever before his hand
finally moved, before he took the fruit from Rylis’s

fingers, careful not to touch him in any way.

Rylis tried not to be bothered by that. He watched

the Eth eat for several moments before he rose and
brought his own breakfast back, so that they both sat
on the floor, far from the ornate dining table on the
far side of the room.

Rylis settled comfortably, eating with good

appetite, occasionally nudging another fruit in
Tamrin’s direction when he felt the Eth was hesitating
too long.

The Eth looked at Rylis’s meal, including bacon

and ham, with a curled lip of disgust, his nose

wrinkling. Rylis just shrugged and kept eating.

The eggs, however, seemed to fascinate Tamrin,

and he stared at them for a long time before finally
reaching out with a claw to poke at one. He visibly
jumped when the yolk came streaming out of the
puncture wound the Eth had inflicted.

Rylis grinned and smeared his finger through the

yolk, bringing it to his lips and humming with
approval as he licked the digit clean.

Tamrin watched, his body beginning to lean ever

so slightly towards Rylis, his tongue unconsciously
licking his own lips. Rylis finished and then put more
yolk on his finger and presented it to Tamrin with a
nod and a grin.

The Eth hesitated, distrust plain in his eyes, but

then, slowly, that extraordinarily long tongue came
forth and lapped delicately at Rylis’s finger. Tamrin’s
expression grew thoughtful, then pleasantly
surprised, and he made the faintest of noises in his
throat as he began to eagerly consume every bit of the
yolk that coated Rylis’s finger.

Rylis felt his body tightening, need beginning to

spiral up through his groin, his shaft hardening. The
feel of that clever tongue wrapping around his finger,
hot and wet, was doing terrible things to his state of
mind. He had to fight back the thought that Tamrin
was his to do with as he pleased. There was no one

here that would bat an eye if he chose to make the Eth
his sexual slave.

He shook his head, trying to dispel the force of

the thoughts that urged him to just take—to possess.

When his vision cleared somewhat, he realized

Tamrin had moved away, eyes wide, staring at him
with a hint of fear in his expression. Rylis swore
silently. Somehow the Eth had realized at least to a
degree what he was thinking or feeling, probably
because their legs had been touching.

He felt his cheeks flush with shame.
It was bad enough to face the fact he wanted to

own the Eth in a way that was not at all humane, but
to have Tamrin actually feel it…

He sighed, feeling his spirits drop. He did not

understand any of this. He had never felt such desire

for any being, much less one of another race. He had
always prided himself on his utter control and the fact
that he needed no one. No one was ever going to get
close enough to hurt him again.

How then, was this Eth able to get through to him

on some level, even if it was purely physical? It made
no sense. His logical mind told him of all the good
things he could do with Tamrin’s presence, the
differences he could make to the conflict between
their peoples, but his body said something entirely
different. His primal side screamed to control, to
mark, to take. This was not the reaction of a person in

control of himself.

Rylis blinked at Tamrin, fear rising within him.

Was his uncle correct that Eths possessed some
magical energy that created such conflict within a
Melanian?

Tamrin simply stared back, his body tense, and

Rylis realized that whatever was happening, the Eth
was just as terrified, just as confused. He had not been
able to hurt Rylis, not even to escape becoming
captive once more.

That had to count for something.
Rylis rubbed at his forehead, weary. He did not

like the feeling that his life was spiraling out of his
control and that he had not the faintest idea how to
stop it.

The only thing he did know what that everything

seemed to come back to Tamrin in some fashion, and
he wanted to resent that fact, except that he was the
one who had brought the Eth here, when the healer
would have stayed behind in Teeathun, far from
being able to influence Rylis in any way.

Looking at it from that perspective clearly

indicated that, whatever had happened in the
beginning, anything that happened from now on was
Rylis’s doing, not the healer’s.

And him without the faintest clue why he was

acting the way he was.

Great.

Rylis sighed and began to clean up the dishes

from the floor. Tamrin made no move to help—he
merely watched Rylis with wariness evident in every
muscle of his body.

When he had replaced the trays and dishes on the

table, Rylis turned back to Tamrin, approaching him
with determination as he reached into his pocket for a
key.

The Eth stilled as he spied the key, a hint of

confusion showing in those golden eyes as he looked
first at Rylis then back at the key in clear question.

“I know what that iron does to you, and I am not

leaving it all on.” Rylis began to unfasten the wrist
cuffs, the act bringing back a barrage of memory. “If

you would just calm, just try, I would not have to
tether you at all.”

Tamrin tilted his head, listening intently, a little

frustration showing at his inability to understand
Rylis’s words.

“Iron…”
Rylis froze, then glanced up at Tamrin,

wondering if he had imagined that beautiful voice
speaking a Melanian word.

Tamrin looked nothing but impatient as he

tapped one of the cuffs Rylis was removing.

It took a long moment for Rylis to respond. “Yes,”

he finally answered, a smile of wonder easing the
lines of his face. “Iron,” he nodded, realizing that
“yes” might not be understood.

Tamrin hesitated, as though searching his

memory. “Iron—burn.”

Rylis swallowed hard, touching the marks that

banded Tamrin’s wrists even after the short time he
had worn the cuffs.

“I’m sorry,” he finally whispered, “but you have

to stay with me. I cannot let you go.”

Tamrin considered, frowning again as if trying to

dredge up long shelved memory in order to drag the
words out of his past.

“Stay…” he whispered, half in question, watching

Rylis’s face.

Rylis leaned closer, his hand again coming out to

tentatively reach for Tamrin’s cheek. The Eth froze,
looked like he would bolt, then seemed to master
himself enough to stay in place.

“Yes, stay. With me.” Rylis spoke softly, catching

his breath as he touched that creamy skin, felt its
softness. This close he could smell Tamrin, that
ineffable odor that made Rylis’s body harden in
seconds. Perhaps it was that smell that drove
Melanians wild? Some pheromone or something?

He tried to shake the effects off, needing to try to

communicate with Tamrin. It must be made clear that
this was Tamrin’s new home. If he submitted, he

could be free of the iron, free of shackles.

Rylis pointed to Tamrin. “You.” Then to himself.

“Rylis. Stay here.” He pointed to the floor then at the
walls around them.

Tamrin shook his head, obviously understanding

but not wishing to.

“Teeathun,” he said firmly, pointing with

unerring accuracy to where the forest lay far, far
away.

Rylis shook his head, again indicating their

surroundings.

Tamrin’s face took on an edge of desperation.

“Teeathun,” he repeated, pleading now evident in his
tone.

“No,” Rylis said softly, trying to be gentle. “Stay

with Rylis.” He gestured to the remaining shackles.
“Iron off.”

“Iron off,” Tamrin repeated, showing perfect

understanding, extending one leg towards Rylis.

Rylis took the cuffs off both ankles, but when

Tamrin indicated the collar, he held back.

“Stay.” They stared at each other.
Tamrin shook his head, turned his profile to

Rylis, a stubborn slant to his mouth.

Rylis sighed, wishing he could speak at a better

level than a child. It was far too hard to show intent
with such simple words as passed between them. It

was wonderful that there was even this much, but…

His fingers stroked down that lean jaw, then

changed direction to comb tousled white hair back
behind an ear. Gently, he raked his fingers through,
half rubbing, half scratching the scalp beneath.

Tamrin would not look at him, but his body

spoke volumes as it began to lean ever so slightly
towards Rylis, his eyes slowly drooping to half-mast.

Rylis shuffled closer, warily, never stopping his

caresses. Tamrin’s eyes were fully closed now, a type

of trust in that vulnerability, and the faintest sound
came from his throat, almost like a soft purr or a
rumbling moan of appreciation.

Whatever it was, it made Rylis’s breath shiver

through his lips, his whole body heating unbearably.

With caution, he leaned forward and laid a kiss

upon that jaw, letting the tip of his tongue trace the
high-boned cheek. Tamrin cracked an eye open,
watching him, but with nothing of hostility in the
look—yet. Everything seemed balanced on a knife
edge, for good or bad, and Rylis had never felt so
tentative in his adult life. He wanted to do this right,
for some unseen reason he could not comprehend.

He trailed kisses up to Tamrin’s ear, his tongue

gliding over the whorls, hearing Tamrin’s breath
catch and begin to speed up.

Rylis could not help but smile. An erogenous

zone, then. He teased and taunted the ear, breathing

softly against it and then wetting it before blowing
over its surface.

Tamrin shuddered against him, a low noise

escaping his throat, whether of complaint or
encouragement, Rylis could not tell.

“Give in to me,” Rylis whispered. “If you love

me, give me what I want.”

Tamrin may not have been able to completely

understand his words, but he certainly seemed able to

pick up on the gist of it. His head slowly turned
away, his neck offered, and the signal itself was clear.

Rylis gave the faintest of moans. His shaft was so

hard it was painful, and he had to have the Eth now—
right now.

He aggressively forced his upper body against

Tamrin’s, bending the large body backward until the
healer lay upon the floor, splayed out beneath Rylis’s
ardor like a sacrifice in the making.

The golden eyes held his, something in their

depths holding a hint of resignation, a bit of
surrender that made Rylis’s heart pound with
triumph.

With time, this response would become more

prevalent, and Tamrin would be his completely.

He had been right all along.
He laid his teeth against that offered neck, just

above the collar, biting down enough to bring pain

and to hold the larger male firmly, to establish his
claim. Tamrin did not resist, but his body tensed
against the pain, his hands folding into fists as though
he wanted to fight back, but was restraining himself
from such an action by sheer force of will.

Rylis eased his hand inside the loose pants

Tamrin was wearing, finding the Eth’s shaft hard and
ready, confirming this was not unwanted. Rylis
released his bite, licking the area, surveying the livid
marks with satisfaction.

His.
His fingers tightened around the shaft he held,

beginning to pump it, watching Tamrin’s expression
with dark and hungry eyes, observing every nuance
of reaction. Tamrin arched under his touch, licking his
lips, trying to keep watching Rylis, though his eyelids

kept drooping as he succumbed to the pleasure that
was no doubt beginning to grip his body.

The soft cries of pleasure, the uncontrollable

writhing of the large body and the feeble fluttering of
the Eth’s wings were like drugs to Rylis. He watched
every movement with heat rising in his own body, his
shaft straining against his pants so that he moved his
hips almost involuntarily, seeking touch, pressure.

His own wings began to spread in reaction,

hovering protectively over both of them.

His hand sped up, his own breath catching as

Tamrin began to pant, his eyes opening wide, but

seeming to stare at nothing as his hips flexed in
shuddering response to the rise of his need.

He was so beautiful, so ethereal, that Rylis’s need

spiked and, to his amazement, with no further
stimulation than sight, he felt his own orgasm begin
to rip through him even as Tamrin arched, a scream
of completion tearing from his throat, golden eyes
wide with sensation.

Rylis groaned long and low as he came, unable to

hold his eyes open. He could not remember the last

time he had come so precipitously. And from nothing
more than watching? Unbelievable. The power this
being held was…

He opened his eyes, fighting the lethargy that

wanted to take hold after such completion. Tamrin
lay sprawled bonelessly beneath him, eyes closed,

chest still heaving, sweat gleaming softly over his
skin. His wings were still now, and Rylis let his own
wings softly trail down over the top of them, so that
golden feathers lay upon delicate Eth membrane. The
difference was great, the contrast erotic.

Rylis trailed his fingers over Tamrin’s throat, over

the iron collar that still lay there.

His lips thinned with sudden determination.
The collar would stay. With no other iron, Tamrin

would be fine, and Rylis was not about to risk losing
him. With the collar in place, Tamrin would not be
able to be completely strong and therefore would be

unable to escape.

The Eth would learn to cope, because Rylis was

never, ever letting him go, no matter the cost.

Chapter Eleven

“I brought you a gift.” Rylis strode up to the

window ledge, bending to lay nips along a bare
shoulder.

Tamrin did not turn from his perusal of the rain-

soaked garden outside, his head laid upon the cool
glass.

Rylis grimaced with rising impatience, then

forcefully made Tamrin turn to face him on the

window seat.

Golden eyes blinked at him, then looked down

and away. Rylis growled under his breath, his grip
tightening upon that lean jaw.

“You are being stubborn, Tamrin. Again.” Would

this foolish behavior never end? Six months now, and
still the Eth resisted. Less and less with time, but still,
Rylis had hoped for better results than this. He did
not have the time to cope with this nonsense. Kiell
had fallen ill three weeks ago, and the outlook for his
recovery was not promising. Rylis had suddenly

found himself floundering in a morass of duty and
emotion that left him exhausted and without patience

at the end of the day. He needed a warm body, not a
sullen child.

He fought to maintain his composure and not lose

his temper, as had been increasingly common with
both Tamrin and his own courtiers lately.

At first, he had been proud to take Tamrin

everywhere with him, had gloried in his quest to
bring about an understanding of the Eths. It had not
turned out as he had wished.

His people had only seen the collar. Tamrin had

not helped, because he refused to show his manners,
refused to show his intelligence. To top the whole
disaster off, Rylis had become increasingly aware of
the lust-filled glances that followed his Eth wherever
he was, and the possessive fury that seemed to be a
large part of his relationship with the Eth came into
full flower.

In time, he had been unable to display Tamrin

further and had restricted the Eth to Rylis’s own wing
of the palace, ordering a large garden to be planted
within his private courtyard for the Eth’s use, a place
where he might connect with the Earth.

He had done all he could, tried to give Tamrin

everything he thought might interest him, but the Eth
seemed indifferent to it all. Things of value seemed to
hold no power in his thoughts.

The garden alone seemed to give him pleasure, so

Rylis had brought exotic plants and trees to give him,

letting him arrange the area to his own satisfaction.
Tamrin practically lived in the garden, but lately Rylis
had noticed his spirits fading once more, and he
desperately sought something that would hold the
Eth’s attention.

He drew a deep breath, taking Tamrin’s hands in

his and drawing him to his feet. “Come, see my gift.
You will like it, I promise.”

Tamrin eyed him with that weary acceptance that

made Rylis’s patience thin.

Teeth gritted, he fought back the black emotions

that swirled over him and tugged the Eth in his wake
as he moved to the far doors of the vast suite of
rooms. There a small tree reposed, its roots carefully
wrapped in burlap. Several large buckets of earth sat
beside it.

Tamrin paused, his nostrils flaring, catching a

scent, before looking at Rylis questioningly, eyes

wide.

“Teeathun. I smell Teeathun.”
Rylis grinned, the tightness in his chest easing as

his Eth actually met his eyes with something other
than quiet resignation.

Tamrin’s Melanian was improving daily. Perhaps

with time, he would completely understand Rylis,
and this distance would not be between them.

“I had men dig up a sapling as close to Teeathun

as possible and bring me some soil, as well. It should

have the energy you need.” He ran a hand gently
over Tamrin’s jaw. “It might help your health, your
spirits.”

Tamrin met his eyes, searching for something in

their depths, then he laid his own hand over Rylis’s
and leaned into the touch.

“Thank you,” he said softly.
Rylis caught his breath and pulled the Eth closer,

gently laying his lips over his. They kissed softly, in a
manner Rylis had had no time for in far too long. He
closed his eyes in deep appreciation of the taste of his
lover, wishing it could always be like this, without the
force that sometimes seemed too much a part of their
coupling.

He wished he had more time to spend like this,

focusing on his Eth and not the demands of a
kingdom in transition.

Surely Kiell would recover, surely he could go

back to the way things were.

The kiss ended as softly as it had begun, and he

opened his eyes to meet Tamrin’s golden ones. The
Eth smiled faintly and Rylis’s heart leapt. He had not
seen even a shadow of that smile since Teeathun. For
it to appear now gave him hope.

Tamrin reached forward to gently brush his

fingers over the sapling’s branches, his breath
catching as he drew forth the echo of his homeland.
He seemed to grow taller, his body straightening

from a worn curl to something approximating how
Rylis remembered him from before. Proud.

Rylis felt a catch in his heart at this reminder of

how his Eth had once looked. That pride was wearing
thin, his early anger and resistance fading into
something—less.

Rylis just wished that Tamrin could understand,

could accept. Then things would be perfect. That
stubbornness was giving them all grief.

He shook off the thoughts, a smile curving his

lips as Tamrin turned back to face him, pleasure
written in his expression.

He kissed Rylis again, of his own will this time,

and Rylis had to fight to keep from grabbing the Eth
and forcing him to the floor. He wanted him so badly.

He drew a shaky breath.
Tamrin laid a gentle hand on his cheek, tracing

the curve, his eyes compassionate. Sometimes Rylis

wished Tamrin would erupt, become furious with
him, fight. Then his own actions would seem more
acceptable, less—violent. Sometimes he wondered if
this was what Kiell had warned of—if this was the
darkness his possession of the Eth had produced
within him.

If so, it was growing in leaps and bounds, and

sometimes he found it hard to find himself in the mire
of emotions that swirled through him, many of which
seemed angry, destructive.

In his clearer moments, he feared for everyone

around him, but most of all for this being, who
through no fault of his own seemed to be creating a
monster within Rylis—a monster he had no idea how
to control.

“Another gift, I want.” Tamrin struggled with the

words, but Rylis only smiled, a surge of relief chasing
away dark thoughts. At last, Tamrin was actually
asking for something. A step forward.

Rylis pulled Tamrin towards the nearest couch,

where they could sit in comfort and he could touch
Tamrin freely, watch the expressions as the Eth spoke.

“You know I will give you anything,” he half

whispered, though the only thing he would not grant
lay between them. Freedom.

Tamrin licked his lips, a sign of nervousness, and

Rylis frowned. Surely Tamrin knew that his least
want would be granted?

“I need—to heal. Others.” Tamrin said hoarsely,

eyes flicking to Rylis’s face then away again,
swallowing hard. “Would help me—be stronger.
Would help me pull—” He searched desperately for
the word. “Energy. Would help energy.”

Rylis nodded. This made sense. He should have

thought of this before. The Eth was a healer; his gift
would make him restless if it was not regularly
tapped into. Surely there were many in the city
who—

“The poor ones. Outside gate.” Tamrin drew a

deep breath, meeting Rylis’s gaze squarely.

Rylis blinked in confusion. It took time for the

request to make sense, then he smiled and patted
Tamrin’s thigh. “No. Too dangerous for you. I will
find a place here in the palace—”

Tamrin shook his head almost violently, lips

thinning. “No! People here—not come. Not open to
me. To Eth energy.” He waved a hand towards the
city gates. “Those, open. Those I heal.”

Rylis’s smile died as he realized Tamrin was

serious. “They are dangerous people. I cannot risk it.”

“They—your people. Yes? Melanian?”
Tamrin’s honest confusion made Rylis flinch. His

fear of those outside the city walls had always
bothered him. How could he explain to Tamrin the
degrees of caste and birth, when the Eth seemed to
hold no concept of such a thing?

“I will build you a healing center, but they are too

dangerous, Tamrin. Heal those within the walls. They
would—”

“Not come,” Tamrin repeated firmly. “Not

accept.” He gestured to himself impatiently. He laid a
hand upon Rylis’s arm and leaned forward. “Please.
Would help—me.”

Rylis wavered. The idea was ludicrous to the

extreme, but he had already promised his Eth

anything. Never had he imagined this. It was
impossible.

Those golden eyes held his, desperation in their

depths, a deep need that proved the truth of what
Tamrin was saying. This could help him, keep him
from fading perhaps in a way that Rylis had yet to

find.

“I will get Grannian to look into it. That is all I

can say. I do not have time for this, Tamrin, you know
this.” He rose to his feet, pacing restlessly. He had just
wanted to give Tamrin a simple gift and be done. This
was something else again, another burden. He glared
at the Eth, but Tamrin had only nodded, head bowed
as he felt Rylis’s temper surge. He was beginning to
understand when it was prudent to remain silent so
as to not incite the dark part of Rylis’s being, it
seemed.

Good. Less friction this way.

“Come.” Rylis began to strip off his ornate

clothing with relief as he headed for the bedroom.
Just enough time to ease his needs and return to the
blasted meetings that consumed his day.

Rylis heard Tamrin trail after him and turned to

face him once he reached the huge bed. He frowned
in annoyance as he saw the Eth had not stripped at
all.

“Well?” His impatience seemed to make the Eth

flinch, and Tamrin’s hands slowly went to his tunic,
unfastening it with painful slowness.

“Oh, for—” Rylis growled under his breath,

striding forward and taking over the task, swatting
Tamrin’s hands away with some force. “Could you be

a little more accommodating? I have so little time. Just
for once could you be helpful, not hindering
everything I do?” He snarled as the last fastener
caught, before simply ripping the impediment free.

He did not wait for Tamrin’s response, simply

unfastened the Eth’s pants and pushed the taller male
back onto the bed, pulling the final covering off and
flinging the fabric carelessly behind him. He reached
for the oil, clambering onto the bed and smacking
Tamrin’s flank less than gently.

“Turn over.” The Eth complied, but the line of his

back was tense, there was no pliant acceptance

evident and Rylis felt anger stir higher. The force of
his hand across that perfect ass left a welted print,
and Tamrin gasped, attempting to turn, shock written
across his face.

Rylis struck again, a feeling of grim satisfaction

welling up within him as he viewed his work. He
knelt over Tamrin’s thighs, preventing the Eth from
getting his knees under him.

Tamrin froze, staring at him over his shoulder,

pain in his eyes, before he lay back down, silent and
still.

Rylis eased at the compliance, gentleness coming

back to him. He stroked his hand over the abused
area, trying to ignore how much the sight of the livid

handprints aroused him. “This is all I need. Just a
little warmth here, beyond the world out there. That
is all I ask of you.”

He leaned forward, rubbing his chest over the

pale line of the Eth’s spine. “I will work on getting
you a place for your healing if you just stop fighting
me all the time, stop resisting. I want you willing and
ready for me at all times. That is all. Nothing huge,
just that.” He nipped at the Eth’s nape, then kissed
over the area, letting his hot breath fan over Tamrin’s
sensitive ear.

“Just give in, my Eth, and there will be peace

between us. I don’t want conflict, not here, not in the
bedchamber, not in my own rooms. I need comfort
here, none of the strife that lies beyond these walls.”

Tamrin shivered at his touch, but did not reply,

did not tense. Rylis smiled against the pale flesh.

“I knew you would understand. I do what I do

for your own good, Tamrin. You are so much better
off here, and you will grow to understand that if you
just let yourself,” he whispered, kissing a smooth

shoulder. “You love me. That should be enough for
now. Let it go, my Eth, let it all go…”

Rylis’s whisper grew breathless as he slicked up

his shaft, before presenting himself to Tamrin’s cleft
and sinking deep with a single thrust.

Tamrin caught his breath, hands fisting in the

sheets, and Rylis could see him swallow hard, eyes
squeezed shut. Rylis pushed himself up on his hands,
beginning to thrust with deep, slow strokes of his
hips. The compliance where before there had been
resistance soothed him, and he was less forceful than
he normally was, less aggravated.

This was what kept him whole, kept him sane.
One day, he would be able to have the time to be

gentle again.

Chapter Twelve

One year later

Rylis entered his chamber with Grannian at his

heels, pulling off his long gloves as he went,
weariness etched into every movement he made. It
had been a long, hard day, and the blessed silence of
his personal wing of the palace was welcome respite.

Grannian helped him remove the ornate,

ceremonial uniform jacket with its complex fastenings
and complicated braid that seemed to defy normal
movement. Rylis sighed with relief when he stood in
a simple white shirt and black breeches. He sat and let
Grannian pull off the knee-high black boots, a
heartfelt moan escaping his lips as his feet were freed
of constraint.

He let his head fall back upon the high back of the

chair, watching Grannian lay the uniform over the
back of the long couch for his dresser to find and tend
to. Grannian turned and eyed him in some concern,

letting his gaze rove over his commander with a
critical frown.

“You need sleep, Your Majesty—you have not

slept well for weeks, and today was beyond tiring.”
His gaze moved away and swept the room, the frown
etching further upon his brow. “Where is Tamrin? He
should be tending to you.”

Rylis felt a faint start of guilt and made sure his

eyes did not meet his second in command’s—no, now
his royal aide, one of his companions.

It had been a month of hell since Kiell—tears rose

to his eyes unbidden, and he brushed them away
impatiently. He had wept enough now; it was time to
do what his uncle, guardian and mentor would have
wanted.

He was king now. The ceremony today had been

long and tedious and had passed in a daze. It had all
seemed so terribly unreal. Surely Kiell would step
through the door, laugh at him and state it had been a
dream—a nightmare.

Kiell could not be dead. So strong a Melanian

could not die, could not be whole one minute and
gone the next. It was not possible.

Rylis was king. That fact kept coming up and

making him pause, shocked. Kiell was king, always
had been during Rylis’s life. It seemed wrong to stand
in his place, as if he were an imposter, someone
playing the part.

He closed his eyes in weary despair.

Grannian’s fingers rested briefly on his shoulder.

“Is there anything else you need, Your Majesty?”

Your Majesty.
So strange those words, when applied to him. The

weight of them, the depth of responsibility and the
end of his freedom were things his tired mind

struggled to comprehend.

King.
“I am fine, Grannian. I just need a little time to

think, to not have to do—anything.”

His aide nodded. “Should you need anything at

all, you only need call, and I will be here.”

Rylis nodded, managed the faintest of smiles to

reassure his concerned companion. Grannian bowed
and left, the doors closing quietly in his wake.

Rylis sat motionless, too enervated to do anything

but simply be. His eyes slowly traced over the room,
hoping that now that Grannian had left, Tamrin

would make an appearance.

All was silence.
He sighed deep in his chest, wondering where the

Eth could be, but knowing why he was avoiding him.
He closed his eyes tightly, hands clenching slowly
into fists, feeling his nails dig into his palms with the
force of his emotion.

There were times when the hold he had over his

needs was perilously thin, his primal obsession

regarding the Eth rising to the surface and
overcoming all sense.

Last night had been such a time.
He could not even remember what he had done,

only that there had been blood on the sheets in the
morning, and Tamrin had been huddled in the next

room, sleeping beneath a table, the blankets around
him concealing the worst of the damage. Rylis had
wanted to crawl under the furniture with him,
wanted to soothe away the hurt and reassure the Eth
he was loved and cared for, but then the servants had
arrived to prepare him for the ceremony of his
crowning.

All too often, the Eth was lost amid the duties of

Rylis being the heir, and now, the king.

In his more lucid moments, when he had the time

to sit and let his mind settle into coherence, Rylis was
vividly aware of the atrocities he was committing. But

those moments were few and far between, and time
slipped away so quickly—increasingly, it was harder
to find the time to do such a thing as give comfort or
anything resembling compassion.

He gritted his teeth, self-hatred rising like a flame.

If only the Eth did not affect him in such a fashion, if
only…

He rose to his feet abruptly, exhaustion fleeing as

the drive to find Tamrin overwhelmed everything
else.

He passed through the huge rooms with only the

sound of his footsteps for company, feeling a sense of
loneliness and desperation that seemed to throb
through his entire being. He needed Tamrin’s touch,
needed the sense of his love.

Nowhere could he find the Eth. Concern began to

make his steps quicken. During the summer, Tamrin
was often out in the small, private garden, but it was
winter now. He came to the glass wall and peered
outside, seeing nothing in the gently swirling snow
for long moments, then he cursed in shock and flung
the door wide, passing through into the white world
beyond, half running, his bare feet sinking into the
coldness.

His heart pounded to the point it seemed to want

to beat its way out of his very chest, fear sour in his
mouth. He could only stand, helpless, staring down at
what he had created.

Naked, Tamrin seemed a creature of the cold

itself, his pale skin and white hair becoming one with
the snow he lay on. His eyes were closed, and he was
curled on his side, wings limp behind him, their color
muted, dulled. The wind moved his hair gently,
wisps of snow swirling over his motionless form. The
collar was stark against the paleness of his throat.

Vivid on his skin were the bruises Rylis had

inflicted the night before.

Rylis choked on a sob, falling to one knee,

uncaring of the chill that immediately permeated his
whole body.

“Tamrin,” he whispered, afraid of the sound of

his own voice, of the cracked horror that seemed to
permeate it. His trembling fingers reached out,

touched the creamy skin, flinched at the coldness.

No.
He fought down the cry that bubbled in his

throat, slid shaking arms under the limp form.
Although the Eth might be larger, he was also lighter
boned, and Rylis lifted him with accustomed ease,
clutching him close.

He turned for the open door, carrying his burden

with the greatest of care, the most gentleness his mind
had conceived of for far too long. He closed the door
with his foot, leaving the cold behind, striding quickly
back through the rooms to the warmth of his own

bedroom.

Tamrin lay unmoving against him. There was no

sound of breath, no twitch of muscle to indicate life.

Dear gods, what had he done?
Every unkind word, every temper-driven strike

seemed to resound in his mind, in his memory as
clear as though each were standing before him in
judgment. The veil of greed and possession seemed to
fall away, and he was left with the clarity of utter
sanity, and the reality of what he had perpetrated.

He had taken love, true love, genuine and pure,

and treated it as if it were his right, not his privilege.
He had desecrated a being of light and joy, sullied
Tamrin until he was brought down to Rylis’s own
level. He had destroyed beauty, crushed it to suit his
own needs, his own disbelief in love itself.

He had become his own father.
He had done what he had reviled as a child. That

child who had known so clearly that what had been
done was wrong. Very, very wrong. Yet somewhere
along the way, scared of being hurt, that child had
grown into a selfish adult, capable only of seeing to
his own needs, of manipulating to create his own
comfort. He had seen love as something to use,
something to control Tamrin with, to force him to stay
with Rylis, not for anything noble as he had once
believed, but in the most selfish of ways.

He had become everything he despised in others.

He was no better than those who had imprisoned the
Eths in the town of Raleigh. No, he was worse. At
least those Melanians had been truthful in that they
wanted the Eths for sex alone.

Rylis had done nothing but lie—to himself, to

others, and above all to Tamrin.

The Eth had offered everything he was, given

everything he was, suffered at the touch of the iron at
his throat, at the separation from Teeathun, not to
mention the subtle slights he received daily from the

Melanians at court who refused to see him as
anything other than a sexual toy.

And why should they?
Did Rylis not provide the example? He had

shamed Tamrin utterly, pretending to treat him as an
equal with words and yet showing others how little

he respected him.

Rylis gritted his teeth, putting out a shaking hand

to brush back the white hair from the frozen cheek.

“Tamrin, dear gods, forgive me. I have been the

greatest of fools—” his voice choked off, self-hatred
consuming him utterly.

He pulled a thick blanket close, carefully

wrapping both of them in its embrace as he pulled the
Eth into his arms, praying for a miracle. He flinched
at the frigid touch of Tamrin’s body, but set his jaw
and endured, rocking slightly to impart comfort,
though his rational mind knew the Eth was beyond

feeling such a thing.

This was all his doing.
He drew the Eth closer, tucking Tamrin’s head

under his chin, rubbing his hand up and down the
frozen back, avoiding the limp wings, trying to
transfer some of his own heat.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered, knowing he did

not deserve to even think the words, much less speak
them. “Please, please, don’t leave me. I’ll change, I
swear to the gods I will change.”

A single tear trickled down one cheek, the first

time he could remember weeping with remorse since
he was a child. “I love you,” he whispered softly,
laying a kiss on the white hair, trembling hands
holding Tamrin closer. “I am so sorry—please don’t
leave me…”

The tear was joined by another, then by a stream.

Regret made manifest. Useless, useless regret.

Chapter Thirteen

Rylis stood motionless, staring out the window,

hands clasped behind his back, his body tense.

Grannian had come into the room some time ago,

but had remained silent and still, waiting patiently no
doubt for his king to make some indication of why he
had been summoned.

Rylis grimaced to himself. So many people at his

beck and call, so many ready and willing to do his

bidding, whatever it might be.

A man could use this so easily for naught but

selfish gain.

Unless that man had seen himself clearly for once

in his life and come to a very unflattering conclusion.

If he could have asked the gods why Tamrin had

come into his life, would this have been their answer?
For the Eth had shown Rylis a mirror of himself, and
it was an ugly image he had seen.

Over the last year, Tamrin had shown him so

many things. He had been unfailingly polite to others,

even when he himself must have seethed at the
treatment he was receiving. He had pleaded with
Rylis until he had been given a corner of the palace to

heal from, and his patients? They had not come from
the elite citizens, but from the poor who lived their
lives outside the gates, who had had no one to aid
them before Tamrin had come along.

They had not looked to their king; they had

accepted Tamrin as one of their own, ignoring his

race in favor of the deeds he did, the compassion and
care he showed all those who came. It had taken a lot
of talking before Rylis had managed to convince Kiell
to let the gatekeepers permit the intrusion of the poor
into the city itself, so that they might come to see
Tamrin at his tiny healing center. Certainly Rylis was
not about to let the Eth wander the city alone or exit
the gates himself.

The Eth had not seen these people as different. He

had given them the same courtesy he had given the
rich, and it had made Rylis open his own eyes, to
begin to see those strangers outside the gates as

merely people whose circumstances had led them to
where they were. In some cases they had had more
manners and grace than the courtiers Rylis had to
deal with on a daily basis.

It had made Rylis begin to truly think, made him

see beyond the surface. He had begun to realize that
the poor were just as much his people as those who
had privilege. It had taken a being from another race
to show Rylis the truth, and the fact shamed him.
Why had he himself not been able to move beyond

his upbringing and see for himself? It humbled him,
made him see he had so much to learn. He knew how
to lead men in battle, knew how to command, but the
nuances of true leadership, true compassion for his
people had escaped him—until Tamrin.

Rylis squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep,

shuddering breath.

It was time to correct the past, to make right what

he had sundered with such cruelty.

He turned and leaned one hip against the

windowsill, arms crossing over his chest, feeling
utterly chilled.

Grannian said nothing, only watched him, a faint

frown on his brow as he seemed to search Rylis’s face
for some clue as to his mood.

Rylis wanted to vent an almost hysterical laugh.
His mood… So uncertain it had been for so long

that people had learned to tread lightly in his

presence. He had been a moody child, instead of a
man. How could he not have seen his own actions,
controlled them?

It was all so painfully clear now, and he would

not return to that part of himself.

Never, ever again.
The lesson had been learned in clear, painful

detail.

“I would have you prepare a detail of men to

accompany me to Teeathun.”

Grannian’s eyes narrowed for a moment, then he

blinked before nodding, questions and worry clear in
his expression, though he would not ask.

“I will need a carriage as well, so see to that also. I

wish to leave by noon tomorrow, if it can be
arranged.”

Grannian nodded again, waiting for more, but

Rylis fell silent, unable to speak of what he was
feeling.

His companion finally spoke, low-toned. “You

are returning him, your majesty.”

Rylis gave a half smile that held the overtones of

grief. “As I should have long ago? Yes. Little good
will it do, but for once, I have the right path in front of
me, and I will take it.”

Grannian smiled then, truly smiled, his eyes

lighting up, his entire face showing his approval. He
bowed, deeply and with blatant respect as he turned

and headed for the door. Once there, he paused and
looked over his shoulder.

“Welcome back, Commander. Welcome back.”

Then he was gone, and Rylis could only stare at the
closing door.

He stood in the silence, unable to move, unable to

act. His heart felt like it might shatter from the
pressure in his chest, and yet his inner self, his very
soul, felt calm, as though for once his actions were
true and right.

Even if this path was not one he wanted to travel

at all. He swallowed with difficulty, then reluctantly
moved away from the window, walking with
measured tread across the mosaic floor to the
bedroom. He stood in the doorway, motionless and
tense, hands slowly clenching into fists, his wings

wrapping around him in silent comfort.

Tamrin lay in the great bed, so silent and still that

he seemed without life, though Rylis saw the barely
perceivable rise and fall of that thin chest.

Tamrin lived, and Rylis felt that only his vow had

brought about the miracle. Now it was up to him to
see this through, to give up what he considered most
precious in order to see that vow completed. He had
no right to ask for pardon or to wait until Tamrin
could revile him in person. He had been cruel
enough.

Rylis’s eyes ran over Tamrin’s gaunt face, and a

feeling of sickness rose within him as he saw—truly
saw—the effects of the last year and a half. The Eth
was fragile, almost ethereal in a way that clearly
showed the price he had paid for his separation from
Teeathun. And his throat…

Rylis’s hand twitched with the need to touch the

bandages, to try to soothe the angry burn that scarred
Tamrin’s throat, a visible reminder of the collar that
had lain there so long, that had tortured that pale
skin, marred him with Melanian greed.

Rylis had removed the offending article last night,

had flung it from him as though it itself were evil,
while his anguished mind knew all too well that the
evil lay within him. He had done this, no other. He
had hurt that which he—loved.

He gave a shuddering sigh, self-loathing rising

like a flame within him.

He loved Tamrin. Only now was that evident,

now when it was far too late. Fool that he was, he had
squandered the most precious of gifts because he had
feared it being taken from him. His regret, his
comprehension was too little, too late.

All he could do now was try to make recompense

for his sins, to right what he had wronged. He longed
to go to the bed, to be able to express his newfound
recognition of his own emotions, but he stayed in the
doorway, too terrified to approach that still, silent
form. He did not trust himself, did not wish for that

monster within him to rise again, to cloud his mind
and reason and make him a merciless, selfish excuse
for a man.

He had no right to ever touch that beloved figure

again.

* * *

The only sound was the muted hoofbeats of the

horses upon the hard-packed dirt road and the
occasional jingle of a bit or a quiet snort. The riders
themselves were utterly silent, drawing upon the
mood of their king.

Rylis rode alone at the head of the column. He

wanted no company, did not have the strength to
speak to any of his men, even Grannian. His thoughts
were deep within himself, and the strength of the
despair he bore wore upon him, drained him until he
was near numb, unable to function beyond a minimal,
dazed comprehension of his surroundings.

He could faintly hear the monotonous drone of

the carriage wheels, their creak and groan calling to
him, pleading with him to turn back, to keep Tamrin
as his own, to attempt to win back the Eth’s love. The
royal conveyance bore the unconscious Eth in rich
comfort, in stark contrast to the treatment he had

received before this day. No amount of comfort or
paltry remorse was going to remove the horrors of the
past.

After days of travel, the faint gleam of Teeathun

lay on the horizon, and Rylis watched it approach
with quiet pain. This was where their twisted
relationship would end. This was where they would
part.

He drew a quivering breath, a realization

intruding upon his dark thoughts.

How was he going to get Tamrin back within

Teeathun itself? The barrier was alive and at full
strength now, unlike his encounters before. Would
the forest even accept the healer, or was the taint of
Melanian use so strong upon the Eth now that he
would be rejected?

Tamrin’s energy now was so weak, so frail, could

he even survive passage through the barrier?

Rylis cursed himself for not thinking of this

sooner. So involved in his self-torture and blind need
to atone, he had not even thought of such things. Part
of him rejoiced that there was hope that Tamrin
would remain his, but the other, rational part, was
horrified that after all this, the Eth might still be
imprisoned, still be denied his freedom.

His lips thinned with determination. There had to

be a way, and he would damn well find it.

Rylis had not expected he would have such a

visceral reaction to his return to Teeathun. His whole
body began to tense the closer they came, and when
they started to pass through the outskirts of the town
of Raleigh, he had to fight down the strong urge to be
ill. So caught up in the overwhelming sensations, it
was some moments before he began to take stock of
the town itself. His advisors had told him there were
indications people were leaving the town in droves,
unable to cope with the rising energies of the forest,

but this was the first time he had seen the results first-
hand.

The streets were deserted; leaves scuttled along

the ground in the grip of a playful wind, and dust
twirled lazily upwards in the wake of the horses’
hooves. Even so soon after the residents’ departure,

the town already held the saddened tones of
abandonment. Although Rylis had not exactly liked
the town to begin with, it was sobering and
depressing to see the results of people’s labors simply
left to the elements. There was no sign of life beyond
the wind itself, and Rylis shivered, drawing his cloak
closer.

Beyond it all, Teeathun loomed, its power and

presence restored in all its glory. Rylis could feel
tingles run down his nerves and he flinched, his
breathing beginning to pick up with the first
symptoms of panic. That energy had brought him

nothing but misery, and he had to wipe his sweating
palms on his thighs, trying to keep his face
completely neutral.

No use showing his men what a coward he was.
It was soon evident that even the outpost itself

had had to be moved back. They found the Melanian
garrison using several south side buildings in the
town as barracks, and the look of relief upon the
men’s’ faces as they saw him made Rylis’s stomach

turn. He had received reports, true, but had he done
anything to see to these men’s concerns?

No. He had been too caught up in his own life to

act as a leader should.

He dismounted stiffly, met immediately by the

captain in charge, whose face looked weary and worn

in the shifting light of the barrier.

“Your Majesty. It is a pleasure to see you here.”

The captain’s eyes slid to the carriage, though he
would not dare to ask his king’s reason for arriving so
precipitously.

“I have business to attend to here, then I shall see

about your own concerns, captain. I have not been
nearly attentive enough to your reports.”

The captain’s relief was readily evident and he

bowed deeply. “Thank you, Your Majesty. We will
await your command.”

Rylis merely nodded, everything pressing upon

him. So much evidence of his own failings.

He stared at Teeathun, lips thinning. The barrier

pulsed like a living thing, and he could feel its power
clearly. It seemed to recognize him, as though it
sought to entrap him once more. He shook his head,
driving off the thoughts. He was giving in to his own
fancies instead of being a true leader. He had to get a
grip on the memories and work past them—for
Tamrin if no one else.

Grannian came up to his side. “Do you wish to

wait until tomorrow, Your Majesty?” It is getting late
and…”

Rylis made an impatient gesture. “No. I must do

it now. I have kept him from his lands and his people
for far too long as it is.”

Grannian glanced nervously at the forest, fingers

restlessly curling around the hilt of his sword. “As
you wish, my lord, but we will be with you. If the
vines come again…”

Rylis shuddered, then cursed himself for the

telling reaction. “We will be ready this time,” he
vowed grimly.

With infinitely gentle care, he lifted the blanket-

shrouded form of his Eth from the carriage. His arms
tightened around Tamrin, a spastic response to the
thought that this would be the last time he would
touch him, the last time he would be able to sense the

Eth’s energy, to know he was right there, close.

He drew a deep breath, strengthening his resolve.
For once, this was not about him. This was to

prove his love for this fragile being.

His gaze drifted over Tamrin’s face, trying to

imprint each beloved feature upon his mind’s eye.
How long would his memory supply him with a
vivid picture once Tamrin was gone?

He shook off the dark thoughts, willing himself to

get this done. Gritting his teeth, he looked up at

Teeathun, swallowing hard. He could only pray that
what awaited his Eth on the other side was kinder
than what he had endured under Rylis’s hand.
Certainly it could not be crueler. Even red-haired
Naish had not broken Tamrin’s will. Rylis alone had
achieved that.

The most important thing was to get Tamrin back

to his world, where he could heal and strengthen
again. He had long stood against his family—he
would do so again, but he had to heal.

Rylis prayed to the gods that Gharadeen would

feel Tamrin’s presence, would come. And surely the
forest itself would protect one of its own, its blessed
son.

Please.
Rylis took that first step, mustering all his will,

and the second one was easier, the third better yet. He
could do this. He could.

He could feel his men at his back and was glad

they could not see his face and the terror that was
probably plainly etched upon his features as he felt
the first tingle of the forest’s energy through his boots.

The barrier began to hum in clear response to

their presence, the sound rising ominously in the still
air. Rylis had to force himself to breathe, to continue.
He glanced down at Tamrin and saw the Eth stir
restlessly, perhaps feeling the proximity of his home.
Slowly, golden eyes slit open, little comprehension

within them, the first sign of consciousness since Rylis
had found him in the snow.

Rylis’s heart caught, waiting for the hatred, the

condemnation to appear in the Eth’s expression, but
Tamrin seemed too dazed for much of anything. He
moaned faintly, fingers restlessly tugging at his

blanket, then the glint of gold disappeared as his eyes
slid shut once more.

This would have to be done quickly. Tamrin

awake and aware—Rylis was not sure he could let go
then.

Let him sleep through this. Perhaps in the end,

the Eth would be able to return to Teeathun’s
embrace and pretend that his time with Rylis had
been but a nightmare, no more than that.

As if…
Rylis grimaced, forcing himself step by step into

painful proximity with the forest. He could hear the

harsh breathing of his men. The force of the barrier
now seemed to be affecting them more than Rylis
himself, as though the forest resented their presence
more than his.

He held Tamrin. The forest wanted its son back. It

would allow him close enough.

At last he could go no further. Pain pulsed in his

head and body so that he half staggered, afraid he
would drop his precious burden. This would have to
be far enough.

He sank to his knees, gasping as the energy

surged up his body in pulsing waves.

Tamrin jerked, his breathing quickening, stirring

once more as Rylis laid him carefully upon the grass-
covered earth.

Rylis braced himself with one arm, feeling he was

going to pass out with the force of that alien presence
that had no knowledge of Melanian frailty. Or
perhaps it wanted to cause him pain, wanted to harm
him.

No matter.
Gritting his teeth, Rylis forced himself to move, to

defy that force. He leaned over Tamrin and laid a last
kiss upon those pale lips before gently taking the
long-fingered hands and laying them against the
earth, pressing them down with his own.

Power surged up before Rylis could remove his

touch, and he screamed with agony as light speared

through his body. He arched, desperately trying to
remove his hands from Tamrin’s, but it was as though
they had become one; he could not free himself.
Consciousness fading, he barely made out the
horrifying sight of vines appearing from the base of
the barrier.

His eyes rolled up, and he found blessed

darkness enfolding his terrified mind.

* * *

He woke slowly, the old scarring on his hand

from that long-ago joining with Tamrin throbbing in
time with his heart. A deep groan resounded in his
ears, and it took some moments for him to realize it

emanated from his own chest.

Why…
His eyes snapped open, breath suspended.
“Your Majesty—Commander?” Grannian’s

concerned voice was both welcome and devastating.
Had some part of him wished that Teeathun itself
would take him, force him to be with Tamrin forever?

How foolish.
He drew in a shuddering breath before meeting

his captain/advisor’s concerned eyes. “Tamrin?”

Grannian gave what might have been a smile that

was closer to a grimace.

“The forest, the vines, took him through the

barrier, my lord. It just—opened for him. Almost took
you, but we managed to pull you free.”

Rylis’s heart spasmed, and the weight in his

chest, present since his lover had tried to commit
suicide, tightened almost unbearably. His hand
clenched over the spot, trying to relieve the ache.

His mind mocked the action. There would be no

relief for this but time.

Rylis nodded finally to Grannian’s words,

wishing he did not see the quiet understanding in the
other Melanian’s gaze, the sympathy he did not
deserve.

“Close the outpost here, and bring the men home,

Grannian. The town is abandoned. There is no need to

watch the forest further. The Eths are within, we are
without. There will be no more conflict. To be this
close to Teeathun is not anything a Melanian can
bear.”

Grannian tried to smile, one hand gently

smoothing back Rylis’s hair in a gesture achingly
reminiscent of his father. “They will be glad to hear
that, Your Majesty.”

Rylis leaned into the touch almost unconsciously.

“Take me home, Grannian. It is time to be a king.”

Chapter Fourteen

The guests milled about, laughter and music

rising in the hall. Staff moved with quiet skill,
serving, cleaning, making sure the day was perfect in
every detail.

Rylis watched it all in silence. He had done his

part—at least most of it. The worst was yet to come
but that at least would not be public.

“Your Majesty.”

A familiar voice, yet for long moments Rylis

could not place it. He turned slowly, forcing his mind
to focus enough to take in the shorter Melanian, the
black as night wings.

He blinked. “Anyar?” His frozen mind gradually

managed to take in the presence of the large, gold and
white figure behind the first figure. “Prince Vanyae?”

Yes, Grannian had insisted they be invited. The

first stirrings of political alliance between the
kingdoms. Rylis had acquiesced, as he did so often
these days.

Anyar held out a hand, and Rylis stared at it for a

moment, fighting back the fog that seemed to dull his

senses. He took it at last, but the smaller form tugged
him forward, heedless of protocol, to hug him.

Rylis froze, the precious numbness parting in

shock.

He glanced at Vanyae, expecting there to be anger

in the Nazarian prince’s eyes, but instead there was

almost—pity.

Unsure what to do, Rylis finally hugged Anyar

briefly, then patted his shoulder as they parted.

Anyar stared up at him, those clear eyes taking in

every detail, seeing far too much for Rylis’s peace of
mind. Feeling the rising interest in those around them
at this historic meeting of two kingdoms, Rylis
gestured to the nearby balcony, wishing only for
privacy. His control was paper thin, his emotions on a
knife edge. He had to make it through this.

Vanyae ushered Anyar out the doors, white wing

half wrapped around black ones, his hand gentle

upon the small of his consort’s back. The loving touch
drew Rylis’s eye, and he drew a sharp breath,
wishing—he gritted his teeth. Wishing was not for
kings. There was only duty; what this whole day was
about.

Once they gained the sanctity of the vast balcony,

Anyar turned to face Rylis again, his warm eyes
searching and faintly worried. He took Rylis’s hand
and tugged him to the chairs nestled in one corner,
coaxing him to sit. Rylis did so almost in a daze,

faintly realizing that his fingers were trembling in
Anyar’s hold, a symptom of the extreme stress he was
enduring for the sake of that day.

“We thank you for the invitation.” Vanyae’s voice

was deep and strong, his posture relaxed as he sat on
the arm of Anyar’s chair. “The beginning of many

more visits I hope, between our countries.”

Rylis finally managed to find his voice. “I hope it

will be so. Certainly as long as I am king, I know that
peace will be Melan’s goal.”

Vanyae smiled. “As it will be ours. My father is

pleased with the trade negotiations you fostered last
month, and already there are murmurings of a trade
town being established on the border.”

Rylis nodded, too numb to feel any sort of

pleasure that his plans had come to fruition in the
matter of bringing Melan and Nazar closer. It all
seemed so unreal to him. Everything seemed unreal.

Since he had returned from Teeathun some six
months ago, he had lived in a fog of pain that
threatened to enfold him utterly. He fought it, did his
duties with a silent doggedness that denied his
despair.

He was king. That was all there would ever be.
Anyar’s grip tightened, and Rylis looked down

into those golden eyes—golden eyes—his breath
caught in a surge of pain that made him rub his chest
in habitual and instinctive protection.

“Your Majesty—are you well?” Anyar’s voice

spiked with concern as he leaned forward and put a
hand on Rylis’s cheek in comfort.

Rylis caught himself, straightened, trying

desperately to force himself into some sort of control.

He was king. He must never be seen to be less

than strong, less than in total control. Especially in
front of those who had been considered an enemy in
the past, although it was difficult to imagine that,
looking into those concerned eyes. Even Vanyae had
leaned forward to grasp Rylis’s shoulder, as though
to catch him should he fall.

I have already fallen, he thought despairingly. So far

I will never find my way back into the light.

He cursed himself and forced a smile to allay

Anyar and Vanyae’s concern. How strange it was that
it should be these two who saw through him, when
his own people had not.

Or were those around him trying to give him

space, knowing how much this day would test the
very core of his strength?

“I am fine,” he finally managed, though his voice

seemed strange to him; hoarse and strained. “It has
been a long day, and the feast has yet to commence. It
is simply nerves.” His laugh seemed less than
credible even to his own ears.

Anyar did not release his grip, and his intense

gaze was far too wise for Rylis’s liking. “We give you

our congratulations on your marriage, Your Majesty,
and we have brought gifts from Nazar.”

Rylis managed to nod and give a somewhat

tremulous smile that felt strange upon his face. “We
thank you, but most of all we are pleased at your
presence. That alone was enough.”

Vanyae’s eyes softened a little, and he dipped his

head in acknowledgement, but Anyar stayed solemn.
“This was very sudden, my lord, was it not?”

The question could have been insulting, invasive,

if Rylis had not felt the genuine concern behind the
words.

“I am king.” He was proud of the steadiness of

his tone. “This is what Kiell would have wanted of
me—that the line will continue, our country be
strong. My wife…” He choked, fought back the
strangeness of the concept. “My wife is a kind lady.
She will be a good queen, and she cares for her people

deeply. We will deal well with each other.” He
wondered if the starkness of those last words was
evident only to him.

“We had heard you loved another.” Anyar’s voice

was low, tentative. He obviously knew he was
stepping over an invisible line.

Rylis jerked ever so slightly, his focus wavering

until he wrestled it back into line.

“The Eth? That is over. He is back with his

people, where he should be. I am back with mine. It
could not have lasted. This is my future, no other.”

Anyar was silent for a span of time, perhaps

kindly giving Rylis a chance to gather his composure.
“But your heart…”

Rylis leaned forward and laid a kiss on Anyar’s

brow, feeling better for the small gesture of caring.
“Kings have no hearts, Anyar.” His laugh was almost
genuine. “It will be fine. This was always my path,
and I was foolish to fight against it. It is where I am
meant to be.”

Anyar looked pleadingly at Vanyae as though

asking for support, but the Prince shook his head
minutely and his eyes, when they met Rylis’s, showed
understanding at what being royalty meant and the
sacrifices it entailed.

For just a moment, Melanian and Nazarian

shared empathy.

* * *

Rylis paced restlessly back and forth, his boots

echoing upon the ornate marble. It had been a long
night and there was no guarantee of how much more
time…

The door to the left swung open, and he froze in

place, breath suspended. One of his wife’s ladies
motioned to him, and the gentle smile on her face
reassured him as nothing else could have.

Grannian clapped his shoulder, grinning, and his

men, who had waited the long hours at his side,

gathered behind him to push him toward the door,
laughing now that the tension seemed to have been
for naught.

Rylis drew a deep breath and stepped through,

hearing the door close gently behind him.

Here was a woman’s world, and he felt greatly

uncomfortable, as if he defiled it with his size and
strength and rough, male manners.

His wife, Renea, looked up from where she lay,

her smile only for him. In her arms was a small
bundle, and she carefully unwrapped the ornate
blankets to expose the child within.

Rylis stepped forward, tentative, his breath held.

Slowly, he went to one knee as though in reverence,
and his wife gave him a tender look, clearly amused
by him in some fashion he could not fathom.

“Your son,” she said in her soft voice, and Rylis

felt tears gather in his eyes as he stared incredulously
at the tiny form. All his efforts had been to this end,
all his planning, all his sacrifices and yet—that this
was real was almost more than he could comprehend.

A tiny being—and yet part of him. Almost

fearfully, he extended a forefinger, touching the
fragile cheek, terrified at how small it was in
comparison to his huge hand. The child stirred, and
his hand jerked back. Renea laughed quietly at his
fears, but his rapt attention was totally upon this

fascinating being.

The baby yawned, and one fist waved uncertainly

in the air. A small wing fluttered in response before
lying limply on the blankets once more.

Rylis looked at Renea, and she stretched out a

hand to lie upon his cheek.

“His wings will be the shade of yours, I think.

Golden with copper tints. It is hard to tell this young.
They might change.”

He nodded helplessly, then reached out a hand to

Renea, taking her slender fingers in his. “Thank you,”
he whispered, and then and only then did the tears

fall.

A tiny part of him, deep within, wished that

Tamrin could have seen this marvelous little being.
He thrust the thought away, for it betrayed his wife
and Tamrin both.

* * *

“Papa!”
Rylis swore as his quill smeared ink across the

papers he was working on. He sighed at his ruined
work, then frowned at the small intruder. “Warin,
how many times have I told you to knock before you
come in?”

The boy shrank under his annoyed gaze. “Sorry,

Papa,” he whispered, wings drooping now.

Rylis laid down the quill and rose, trying to chase

away the stress that made him short in temper. This
was his son and worthy of his time, his effort, and his
love.

He swept him up in his arms, surprising a squeak

out of Warin as small wings fluttered madly in
response. “Now, what was so important, my boy?”

Warin snuggled closer, obviously realizing his

father had forgiven him, but then, he always did.
“Grannian showed me the War Room, Papa, and I

saw our kingdom and Teeathun. Is that where Tamrin
is from?”

Rylis drew in a sharp breath. From the time of

Warin’s birth, he had told the young one tales of the
Eths, their world as he had seen it, the beauty of those
he had met—and the kind and gentle nature of
Tamrin. It was all he could do to keep the image of his
love alive. Sometimes it seemed that Tamrin was
fading away, his image no longer clear, the love he
had offered nothing but a faint impression of a long

ago blessing. Therefore, Rylis strove to preserve it in
whatever fashion he could.

Renea understood. She had understood from the

beginning when Rylis had offered for her hand in
marriage. He had had no idea how to deal with a
woman and so had been forthright in his words,

letting her know he had nothing to offer in the way of
love. She had been appreciative of his honesty, rather
than insulted as so many others would have been. His
choice could not have been better.

They were friends. So much better than love, with

its attending pain. There was nothing Rylis could not
tell her or vice versa. It was a relationship precious to
him, perhaps the only thing that had kept him sane.
She made the ache in his heart bearable because she
forced him to speak of it, not hide it deep within.

She was the one who had asked of Tamrin,

wanted to know all the details, and had accepted

what he meant to Rylis. Rylis could not imagine
another woman who could have dealt with this with
such aplomb.

So he spoke of his love, in time confessing each

sin he had committed against the Eth. He expected
her to hate him then, as he hated himself, but she
seemed to believe he had changed, that he had
learned from the experience. He himself was not so
certain. What if that monster within him rose again, to
harm Renea or his precious son?

She was quietly insistent that it would not.
He wished he had her faith in himself.
Now he cleared his throat, feeling Warin’s small

hand upon his cheek, drawing him back from
reflection.

“Can you show me, Papa? Can you show me

where Tamrin is?”

Rylis nodded, unable to speak, forcing a smile for

his son’s comfort. They passed along the ornate
corridors, people bowing and smiling as they passed.
His country seemed happy enough with him, seemed
to accept his kingship as something positive. If only
they truly knew what their king was.

He shook off the morbid thoughts with

determination. He had to stop living in the past. This
was his world now, and his people, his family,
deserved his complete attention. It was time to move
on, disperse the ghosts of his past in order to be what

others wanted of him.

The past was nothing but shadows now.
They reached the War Room and opened its great

doors, leaving them open to invite in a breeze. It was
hot in the room, unused as it was now. Occasionally
there were meetings in here to use the great, three-
dimensional map of the kingdom to illustrate a point
or get a proper perspective of scale but other than
that, it now had no use. Not in a time of peace.

Warin wiggled to get down, then skipped across

the marble floor, his wings wide and high with
excitement. He pulled up a stool that Grannian had
obviously brought for his use and knelt upon it, his
blue eyes bright with interest as he pointed at the
realistic expanse of forest representing Teeathun.

“Is that truly what it looks like, Papa?”
Rylis approached slowly, eyes fixed on the scale

model. He let his fingers brush over the wooden tips
of the trees before looking down at his son. “The
forest has grown a little since then, but for the most
part, yes, this is how it looks.” There was no way to
describe the beauty and terror of that forest to anyone
who had not seen it, experienced it. Let his son see it
as beautiful fantasy. The truth was far too difficult to
ever reveal.

Warin slipped from the stool and walked slowly

around the vast map, barely able to see over the edge.

His little face was lit with inner thought, and Rylis
could not help but smile softly. His son was subject to
flights of fancy more grand than Rylis himself had
ever conjured as a child, his mind swift and able to
see beyond the present in ways Rylis was quite sure
would aid him greatly when he became king.

He tousled his son’s hair, seeing how large his

hand was against Warin’s small size. Was this how
his father had seen him? Was this fierce desire to
protect exactly how his own father had felt?

Was this what love was?
If so, he had sadly failed Tamrin, because he had

done everything but protect him.

“Do you think I will ever see an Eth, Papa?”

Warin’s voice held wistful longing.

Rylis’s initial negative reaction faded into a desire

to let his son continue to dream. “Maybe. One day.”

“Are they truly as beautiful as you say, Papa?”

Blue eyes an exact replica of Rylis’s own stared up
trustingly.

Rylis swept him back up into his arms, blowing

raspberries on his neck until Warin giggled. “Yes, my
boy. More than words can possibly describe.”

* * *

Renea came up behind him as Rylis stood silently,

staring out at the snow in the courtyard, pain a living,

breathing part of his whole being. She had known
where to find him, known where he went whenever
he hurt. He came here to flay himself further, to look
upon the very place where Tamrin had so nearly
died.

Her small hand slipped into one of his. “He did

not mean it, Rylis.”

Rylis’s lips quirked bitterly, never taking his eyes

from the swirling snow. “Yes, he did. And he is right
in his accusations. You are his mother, and he defends
you fiercely, as he should.”

“He just does not understand. I have tried to

explain.”

Rylis grimaced, putting an arm around her

shoulders and turning to lay a kiss upon her brow.
“He wants to be part of a normal, loving family. We
are not normal, Renea, and never will be, and he
blames me for this, as he should.”

“No.” Her tone was as fierce as he had ever heard

it. “It is not your fault. Fault of fate maybe, or the gods
themselves, but not you. You have given up
everything for others. He does not understand. He is
too young, has no experience in life yet to learn
empathy.”

Rylis could only sigh and lay his aching head

against the cool glass.

Their youngest son, Kiell, was so different than

his older sibling, so fierce and temper- driven. So like
Rylis himself that it was terrifying.

Surely his son would not follow in his own

tainted footsteps.

Whereas Warin and Rylis were close, Kiell had

fought against his father from the time he was a
toddler, and the pain it gave Rylis was often near
unbearable. He loved the boy, but he could not say he

understood him. As Kiell had reached adulthood, it
had only grown worse.

That very night, at feast, Kiell had exploded at

Rylis yet again, the topic a well-worn path. Rylis did
not love Renea as a wife, did not lay with her. Kiell
saw this as an insult to his mother, had accused his

father of being a cold-hearted bastard with no other
concern than a distant past that hung over all of them.
He had then stormed out as he so often did, Warin in
his wake, trying to smooth things over.

Rylis had borne the fighting for many years and

yet, that night, it was too much.

“Why can I not just forget…” he whispered.

“Why do I hold such a foolish thing to my heart?
Tamrin is long gone. Thirty years gone. Thirty gods
damned years have passed, and yet I miss him still,
love him still.” He gave a choked laugh, feeling a tear
slide down his cheek and mist upon the cold glass.

“What a perfect fool I am.”

Renea gently turned him to face her, reaching up

to wipe the tear away, her face stark and concerned.
“I would say that you have proved that what you felt
for him was true. It has survived all this time.” She
hesitated, conflict obvious in her expression. “Have
you considered going to him now?”

The words flew about Rylis’s mind, finding no

purchase, until they sank in abruptly, and he stared at
Renea in shock.

She gave a forced little laugh at his expression. “I

would not give you up. I would have you stay with
us forever, but I see your grief wear you down, year
after year. You are still young in Melanian terms.
Why should you not find happiness?”

“I am king,” he whispered, the words worn

smooth by use over so many years.

“Warin is ready, willing even.” She smiled and

stroked his cheek, the sadness in her eyes tearing at
him. “He was born to be king; he has trained all his
life for it, wants it. It was nothing you ever wished to
bear. Maybe now you should let him have his time,
and you could be free.”

Rylis could not move, could not think. He had

never even dared imagine the concept of freedom
even in his deepest thoughts. Though he had known
Warin would inherit the title, it had never occurred to
him that once that took place, he could be merely

Rylis again. It was beyond comprehension.

“It would be selfish to make him suffer this in my

place.” His voice seemed shaky even to him.

Renea shook her head with a fond look that she

often gifted him with when he was being particularly
obtuse. “Warin wants to be king, Rylis. I know that is
inconceivable to you, but it is true. It would not be a
hardship to him but a welcome challenge.” She tilted
her head and watched him. “You could go back to
Teeathun. Could return to Tamrin.”

He flinched, reality returning with a rush past the

first impossible longing. “He would have moved on
long ago, Renea. He has no reason to think of me with
anything but hatred and loathing.”

“And you know this for certain how?” She met

him look for look.

He stared at her helplessly as he did so often. She

was a woman, and he had never known how to
decipher their way of thinking. “Renea. It has been
thirty years. Not long to an Eth, no, who is immortal,
but I have changed, aged.”

She scoffed. “You have not even reached a

hundred and fifty, as your father was when he died.
Why do you insist that you are so old?”

“I feel so old, so worn in every part of me. It

shows on my face, in my eyes.”

She pulled him down to kiss his cheek. “You have

lived through much in these years, learned much,

even as Tamrin will have done the same. He will not
be without understanding. He will not reject you
simply because you are older.”

“No, he will reject me because of what I did to

him. That is more than enough.” Rylis turned to the
glass again, back straight and stiff. He could not look
into Renea’s sympathetic eyes for another moment. It
was too much to be handed this chance and know it
was impossible. He longed for escape, but there

would be no return to the past. He had burned that
bridge all too thoroughly.

Hopelessness crashed over him, weighing him

down until he wanted to drop to his knees with it.

Renea was right. Warin was ripe and ready to be

king, and gods knew he would be better than his

father. His head and heart would be here with his
people, and he had all the patience and diplomatic
skills Rylis so lacked.

Perhaps it was time to let go.

Chapter Fifteen

The horse picked its way carefully along the

untended road, wending delicately around the
heaved-up stones that tree roots had pushed up. Rylis
stared blankly ahead, wondering what in the heavens
he was doing here. He had sworn to himself he would
not come, had resisted the pull for months after
Warin had become king, but at last, he had weakened.

There was nothing for him anymore. To not be

king was almost worse than being one. His days
suddenly had too much time in them. Not enough to
wear him into exhaustion and a lack of thought. His
sons were grown and had their own lives. His wife—
Renea deserved someone who could love her with
true passion. If Rylis was gone for good…

Grannian, his men—they had lives now, wives or

male consorts, children. They were not free to follow
him anymore.

So he had come in desperation, thinking perhaps

that by this action he could finally lay his ghosts to

rest, move on. To what, he could not imagine, only
that he wanted the pain to end.

Renea had seen him off, and she at least had

hope. She kissed him, stroked his face. “If you do not
come home, then I will know you have found what
you needed,” she had whispered. He had seen the
tears in her eyes and hugged her, and it had been
hard then to ride away, to leave his truest friend

behind.

Now he was truly alone. No one knew he had left

except Renea. He had left letters for Warin and Kiell,
for Grannian and for his men, hoping they would
understand.

He had wanted no escort, no protection. He was

not worth such things now, and it was a strange kind
of freedom to be alone with only his horse as
company. It was terrifying as well. He was always
around people, always surrounded. This was eerie
and somewhat frightening. His sense of isolation and
vulnerability were growing the closer he came to

Teeathun, and some part of him wanted to turn tail
and return to the life he knew, leave the past as it was.

Some other part drove him on. Behind him lay

pain—in front lay a faint hope of redemption. It was
all he had.

The horse drew to a sudden halt, and Rylis stirred

himself from his thoughts enough to pay attention.
He blinked, then frowned.

He had heard the forest had expanded, but this

was still some distance from the old town site, and the

road was surrounded by a thick forest of young trees.
He had not realized it had come this far.

He sat in silence, gauging the situation. It came to

him that this could not be Teeathun itself, for there
was no sign of the barrier. He had assumed the
barrier would be fluid in its position, able to move

with the forest, but perhaps this was not true. Perhaps
it was fixed in place, and these young trees had
grown beyond it. If so, did the same energies rule
here?

The horse shifted under him, perhaps reacting to

his nervous thoughts.

He dismounted, bracing himself for the shock of

energy that was sure to come, but there was nothing.
After several moments of tension, he cursed himself
for cowardice and stepped forward. At the edge of
the trees, he could feel something, but it was gentler
than Teeathun, almost welcoming in its warmth.

Rylis looked behind him at the sunshine and

bright day and took a deep breath before leading his
horse forward into the shadows of the trees.

The town was almost unrecognizable—not too

surprising after thirty-two years, but still, it was
depressing to see the rotted buildings and overgrown
streets. He almost wished he had not come, had
allowed the memory to remain in his mind’s eye. He
leaned against the comforting warmth of his horse for
long moments, feeling a coldness wash over him.

What was he trying to prove, coming here? The

foolishness and futility of it seemed so clear once the
reality was before him. Good sense demanded he
mount his horse and leave, go home.

Rylis had never counted himself sensible.

Stubbornness if nothing else would force him to see

this through in whatever fashion fate dictated. He had
to know what remained here if he was ever to move
on.

The town hall, created of stone, still stood,

testament to its strong construction. The wooden
doors hung askew, rotted off their hinges, and Rylis
tore them aside with little effort. He peered inside,
pleased to see that the flagstone floor was dry, the
slate roof intact. He led his horse inside, tying him to
the wall for the moment, then set to work to clear an
area suitable for lodging both he and his mount for
whatever time he chose to stay.

* * *

He slept well that night, surprisingly. His labors

had left him pleasantly tired, and he had fallen asleep
almost before he lay down.

He woke feeling better than he had in years—no

reason to be up, nothing to rush for. It was strange

and yet peaceful. The silence was more comfortable
than he would have expected. He rose and lit a small
fire near the open doors to cook a filling breakfast,
then led his horse outside, finding an area for grazing
where he could tether it for the day.

It was brighter here than he had imagined. The

trees were tall, but not overwhelming as they were in
Teeathun, so the sun still found purchase here, in a
small clearing. There was grass and flowers, and a
sense of restless vitality that had seemed missing in
Teeathun, perhaps because of its age and power. This
was much more comforting, and the energy here was
more welcoming, easier on a Melanian body.

Rylis spread his wings and flexed them, beating

the air for several moments to loosen stiff muscles. He
gave a longing look up before grinning. Why not?

The feeling of power and strength as he leapt into

the air made him laugh out loud for the first time in

far too long, his wing beats propelling him ever
higher. So long since he had flown, since he had had
the time and energy for such things. The sky
welcomed him back like a long-lost son, and he
reveled in its presence. It was harder than he
remembered to gain proper altitude, evidence of his
long indolence perhaps, but that was soon forgotten
in the joy of flight. He rolled, the stretch of long
unused muscles a pleasant counterpoint to the
motion. He dove, the wind dizzying upon his face as

the world below became clearer once more. Up again,
into the thermals, and here he rested, gliding, the sun
making his golden feathers glimmer, the copper ones
glow. He felt as though the air itself cleansed away
the past. He felt young again and…

His smile dimmed, but he did not return to the

imprisonment of the ground; instead he circled within
the thermals, eyes fixed upon the vast expanse of
Teeathun. The barrier still seemed strong, and he was
thankful for that.

One of his first actions after Tamrin had left had

been to pass strong laws regarding the protection of
Teeathun and the Eths themselves. It was really all he
could do in reparation, and it seemed little enough in
the end. The barrier was back up, and it was highly
unlikely that, within his lifetime, any Eth would be
seen again anyway. His gesture had seemed rather
useless in his own eyes, but still—for the future.

Warin would protect Teeathun and hopefully

teach his own children the ways of the Eths. Maybe
with time, people would revere them, rather than
wish to harm them.

His smile then was bitter with doubt.
Melanians did not seem open to change, or

perhaps it was that he had not the strength to lead
them past long held concepts.

He flew until his wings ached, until the mundane

drive of hunger drove him down at last. He landed

near his horse, stumbling with exhaustion, aching in
every bone and muscle.

But, by the gods, it had been wonderful.
He cooked a sparse meal over a small fire, staring

into the flames as the shadows lengthened, the day
waning. He had not realized how long he had been

gone; no wonder he had been so tired.

He used a long stick to poke at the coals, his mind

more calm than it had been in recent memory. The
sheer exhaustion drove out emotion, made everything
meld into a pleasant lethargy. There was no grief, no
anger, nothing at all.

It was wonderful.
In that state, it became clear there was nothing for

him here, even as there was nothing for him if he
went back. That conclusion calmed him further. It
was time for him to understand what he had to do.

He slept like the dead that night, waking up in

the morning stiff, in the very same position he had
collapsed in.

It took some time for him to work out the kinks,

but his mind was wonderfully clear and still calm. He
took the horse out again to graze, leaving it loose to
wander this time, then chewed thoughtfully on some
dried meat as he stared at the glow to the south that
was Teeathun.

It was time to face his fears, time to pay his last

debt.

* * *

Rylis had initially expected the new growth of

trees to extend all the way to Teeathun, but from the
air, he had seen a wide strip of grass separating the

two. Obviously even the new trees could not quite
endure the strength of the barrier.

He stood, still within the edge of the new growth,

staring at his nemesis. Even this far away, the energy
surged beneath his feet, tingling up his legs and
making him shudder in reaction.

Gathering his courage, he finally stepped out and,

with slow and cautious steps, began to edge his way
closer to the barrier. The energy grew stronger,
surging up his body and leaving tingles of far too
familiar arousal. He gritted his teeth, glaring at the
barrier.

As if in response, it began to pulse and churn

directly in front of him, and he stopped short, staring
in alarm. It had never done that before, at least that he
knew of.

When at last, head pounding, he could go no

farther, he sank to his knees. Here was where it
would end. The pain would end at last. No one would
know what had become of him, and they would

assume that he had returned to Tamrin. They would
be happy for him.

They would not know the truth of it.
The dagger was beautifully sharp, and he did not

hesitate to contemplate his actions, he simply laid the
blade to his flesh and slashed upwards.

It stung, burned, and he gasped, bending over his

knees and swallowing a surge of bile. Bright red
stained the blade, dripped off it, and he watched with
a sort of mesmerized fascination.

His heart pounded, as though it only now

realized what he had done. Part of him screamed to
stop, the other wanted only release.

The dagger dropped to the ground, his intention

of a second cut forgotten in the pain of the first. The
blood was so beautiful against the green of the grass.

At first, when the grass seemed to heave, Rylis

thought he was merely weakening, seeing things

already, but then a vine burst from the bloody soil,
and he did not have time to scream before it shot
forth, wrapping around his wounded arm.

With swift efficiency, it coiled around his wound,

binding it, holding it closed and pressuring it with a
sentient persistence that was truly terrifying.

Rylis flung himself backwards. The vine held him

firm. He tried to reach his dagger but the vine simply
dragged him away from it. He struggled, but
weakened as he was, it was patently useless, and he

soon ceased, panting, dazed, lying helplessly
sprawled on his back. Was he not even allowed to
succeed in this?

His wounded arm throbbed under the pressure of

the vine, and Rylis growled in frustration, glaring at
the greenery that held him so perfectly. Now what? It

had stopped him bleeding; to what end?

He lay there, glowering, anger giving him a

modicum of strength. The shock of the vine seemed to
be making him think again, and some corner of his
mind was gibbering in horror at what he had done.

Self-sacrifice had ever been frowned upon, and

Rylis himself had scoffed at those who had done so,
thinking them weak. Obviously he had not
understood their pain or desperation enough. To find
himself in the same position was mortifying, and as
he began to come back to himself, he was shocked at
his own actions. What had been so clear now seemed

wrong.

The barrier hissed, as if in response to his own

thoughts, and he turned his head to look at it,
blinking in astonishment as he saw a figure within its
embrace.

Who…?
Tamrin stepped from the shifting energies as

gently and calmly as if there were nothing there at all.

Rylis stared, sure now he was hallucinating.

There could be no other reason for what he was

seeing. There had been no sign of a portal, and the
barrier itself would destroy any who touched it.

What then was this?
His breath caught as Tamrin met his eyes across

the short distance. Those golden eyes were far
brighter than he remembered, Tamrin’s stance more

proud, his face leaner and more stern. He seemed so
real.

The ever-present pain in Rylis’s chest tightened so

that he gasped for air, his free hand reflexively
covering the spot. He watched with increasing
agitation as the illusion approached with slow, sure
strides, that intense gaze never wavering from Rylis.

Rylis took a deep quivering breath, his eyes

tracing that beloved form, longing making him begin
to tremble. If this was a dream, let him never wake.
To be so close, to see him once more…

Then the memories came, of how he had betrayed

this being, of all the ways he was unworthy of even
looking upon him, of how there could never be
forgiveness for his actions.

Immediately he turned his face away, his gaze

dropping to the bloody grass, squeezing his eyes shut
against the beauty before him.

He had no right.
Long claws curled around his cheek, and the

prick of their tips forced him back to face the one he
feared the most. Childishly, he kept his eyes shut

tight, as though somehow that could protect him
from what he most feared.

“Rylis…” The whisper was soft, with that

beautiful accent that characterized Tamrin speaking
Melanian. “Look at me.” The tone held strong
command that Rylis had never heard from Tamrin

before.

He opened his eyes in obedience before he could

even consider refusing. Those golden eyes were
powerful, deep, with nothing of the softness that had
allowed Rylis to abuse him.

Rylis shuddered at the strength there, wondering

if Tamrin had come to kill him himself, that there
would be true redemption in his death. He wanted
Tamrin to hurt him, wanted him to return piece by
piece all the torment he had inflicted upon the Eth.
Only then could he be free of what he had done.

Pain for pain.

Tamrin made a noise in his throat, almost a

growl, and took Rylis’s face between both clawed
hands. “You are a young fool, Melanian. And I was a
fool to bend to your will, and me so much older than
you.” His lips drew back in a snarl as he touched the
vine bound tightly about Rylis’s forearm. “And what
was this madness? Did you think to take yourself
from me?”

“A life for a life,” Rylis whispered. “I drove you

to attempt to take your own life; is it not fair that I do
the same?”

Tamrin shook his head, his claws pricking harder

against Rylis’s face. “I was ill with fever that night.
The snow was cool, that was all I remember. There

was no intent to die, Rylis. If you had faced me,
spoken to me, you would have discovered this.
Instead you returned me to Teeathun without ever
asking me what I wanted. That was arrogance of its
own, and nothing I will tolerate from this point. You
will not assume what I need, what I want. You will
speak to me always. That has always been your
problem, young one, always unable to understand
those around you, how to communicate with them.”

Rylis felt the wash of tears on his face, felt Tamrin

wipe them away with soft sweeps of his fingers.

“How can you forgive me?” he almost did not

recognize his own voice, it was so broken.

Tamrin huffed. “How can I forgive myself for

being so foolish? You think I could not have stopped
you? I am stronger than you, Rylis. I could have
halted what was happening. I did not, for I did not
understand love, either. I thought it was giving in,
accepting everything you chose to do. Neither of us
knew what love was, and we squandered it in the
ways of selfish children.”

“I am sorry, I am so truly, deeply sorry. I was

cruel and beyond self-serving in what I did.” The
words came from the very depths of Rylis’s being.

“Yes, you were.” The words were stark, Tamrin’s

lips pressed into a thin, pale line, his wings held stiff
with tension. “Now it is up to you to prove you are

more than that.”

Rylis quivered, uncertain how to respond. “How

may I do that? What do you wish of me?”

“First I wish you to give oath—you will not

attempt to harm yourself again.” The tone was utterly
without compromise.

“I so swear.” Rylis dipped his head down, feeling

like he was a child again, uncertain and afraid with it.

“Good. As to what I wish of you, I have little

enough to offer in exchange. Only myself and
immortality at my side.”

Rylis’s gaze lifted, shocked. “I am dreaming this, I

have to be,” he whispered.

Tamrin leaned closer, laid warm lips over Rylis’s.

“It is truth, young one. I love you, I have always
loved you, I always will.”

“How can you be so forgiving? You should

not…” A talon was laid over Rylis’s lips, halting his
words.

“You are assuming again. Let me know my own

mind. I was angry, yes, when I woke within Teeathun
and realized what had happened. I have had years to

deal with that anger, years to purge myself of it and
move on to what I truly want. And my return to
Teeathun has brought about a change in me, a
wonderful, amazing change.”

He smiled softly at Rylis’s puzzlement. “The

barrier is me, Rylis. When you and I created it, our

energies went into it. As an Eth, I am part of it. I
discovered that I can be within its embrace and not be
harmed. Such a discovery opened a new world for
me. I have found the essence within myself that is the
child of a god, and I am powerful with it, strong.
There are none who can harm me now, and certainly
Naish has learned that to his detriment.” The
satisfaction in Tamrin’s tone was evident. “That
energy has changed me, made me more. I have stood
up to my father, my brother. I have restored the
healing school, and people come now, safe, because I
can protect them. I have found things worthy of

fighting for, Rylis. I believe that I was meant to go
through what I did, with you, to bring me to who I
can be, to drive me to make changes.”

“That does not negate what I did.”
“No, but maybe we need to move on from that

and find something more.”

Rylis swallowed hard. “Is there something

more?”

Tamrin smiled, that slow, gentle curving of lips

that Rylis had always loved. “Yes, young one, there is

so much more. You only have to decide what you
want. There will be no coercion. This time, it will be
done by our own wills, our own decisions. This time
will be right.”

Rylis struggled to sit up, and Tamrin spoke but a

single word. The vine unwound from Rylis’s arm and

sank back into the earth. Immediately blood came
forth, but the Eth simply laid his hands over the
wound and sang under his breath. Energy, hot and
immense, immediately wrapped around Rylis, and he
fought for breath, his disbelieving gaze watching as
his wound closed, not healed completely, but closed,
blood drying along its edges.

By the gods…
“What do you want, Rylis?” Tamrin softly kissed

the arm, bloody fingers stroking over the skin.

What did he want? Rylis could only stare at

Tamrin, too afraid to even speak. He wanted Tamrin

with everything in him, but he had learned all too
well that love itself was not enough, that life in all its
complexity could come between, could shatter hearts.

What did he want? If he went with Tamrin, he

would be within Teeathun forever. He closed his
eyes, envisioned the cool shade, the enduring peace of
the forest, and suddenly it seemed more like a haven
than a prison. He was so tired. Maybe he was ready in
himself to accept what the forest had to offer.

“If you come, I can never promise you freedom

again, little one. One day, as the forest makes you
immortal, perhaps I can learn how to join you with
the barrier as well. If so, you would have freedom to
come and go, to fly in your skies. That is only a hope.
It might never happen, and then you will be caged.”

Tamrin’s look held determination, as if he had to
make Rylis understand what it was he offered, good
and bad.

Rylis reached up with trembling fingers, touching

that pale face, half-believing even now that this was
but a dream. “I have been caged from the day I let
you go. I think freedom is being by your side,
however that might be possible. I choose you,
Tamrin.”

Tamrin stared at him, searching his eyes,

quivering. “Do not regret this, Rylis. That I could not
bear,” he whispered.

Rylis reached out and tangled his hands in that

glorious mane of hair, pulling the Eth down to him.
“Tell me you are real; tell me this is not just in my
mind—please.”

Tamrin leaned closer, and sharp Eth teeth closed

on Rylis’s neck, hard enough to hurt. He released his
grip, laving the spot with long sweeps of his tongue.
“One day I will mark you permanently, but for now—
this will do. I am real, Rylis. This is real.”

Rylis’s body began to shake. “I feel like I do not

know you. I have loved you for so very long, but I
never took the time to know you. I do not know what
you like or dislike, what your thoughts are…”

Tamrin gave a crooked smile. “Do you wish to?”
“Yes,” Rylis breathed, feeling his chest loosen for

the first time in years. “I want to know everything. I
want to know you better than I do myself.”

Tamrin gave a low moan in his throat and

brushed his lips over Rylis’s once more, the gesture
hungry and yet tentative.

Rylis arched up, desperate for contact. He needed

to touch, to prove… “Let me love you,” he whispered,
“the way you should have been loved from the
beginning.”

Tamrin’s mouth slanted over his with hungry

force in answer.

Rylis pulled at the ties to Tamrin’s long, billowy

tunic, and the Eth leaned back, impatiently tugging
the garment over his head and wings, flinging it
aside, before attacking Rylis’s own clothes.

They impeded each other with frequent touches

and kisses, moans of both frustration and need rising
in the warm air.

Rylis let out a sigh of completion when at last he

could feel his Eth against him, skin to skin, heat
against heat.

He ran his hands over Tamrin’s back, gently

caressing the base of his wings. Tamrin’s eyes
widened, his back arching as he groaned under the
soft touch, body shuddering with the force of the
sensation such a simple thing produced, his wings
fluttering mindlessly.

Rylis watched his Eth, heat rising within his own

body at the beauty before him. Surely nothing in this
world was as glorious as his Tamrin.

His Tamrin—those words pried the last of his fear

free, and he felt nothing but peace. This was right. At
long last, this was right.

Unbound silver hair flowed down around them,

and Rylis brought a fistful of strands to his nose,
inhaling deeply, relearning that amazing scent. He
paused, frightened for a long moment, remembering
what had happened in the past, what this scent had
done to him, but now—it was only erotic; it produced

nothing of darkness within him, no need to dominate,
to possess.

Renea was right, it seemed; he had learned, truly,

finally.

He smiled then, feeling more free, and reached

down to capture a pale pink nipple between his lips.

Tamrin made a sound halfway between a moan

and a mewl that shot fire straight to Rylis’s half hard
shaft. By the gods…

Rylis groaned himself at the need that ruled him

then. He wanted his Eth within him, desired Tamrin
to take the dominant role. Needed to prove to his
lover and himself that the past was just that—the
past, and did not rule them now.

Tamrin’s long fingers caressed Rylis’s thighs,

tracing the muscles there with a maddeningly soft
touch that made Rylis buck and try to press upwards,
seeking more sensation. The Eth merely whispered a
laugh against his ear, making Rylis shiver
uncontrollably.

“Please.” He used his body to rub against

Tamrin’s massive shaft, hard and hot against his own.
“I need you in me. Want your essence deep in my
body. Want you to mark me with your seed. Make me
know I am yours.”

Tamrin paused and reared back a little, searching

Rylis’s eyes for something. He seemed to discover

whatever it was, because he relaxed, leaned in for
another scorching kiss.

“I will gladly give you what you need, my little

one. All that I am is yours, and you will know that
when I am done.”

Rylis whimpered as Tamrin pulled away, sliding

down to lie between his outstretched legs. Huge
hands pushed his thighs up, exposing him, and he
quivered, fearful suddenly. A murmur of reassurance,

a gentle kiss upon his inner thigh, and then that long
tongue wasted no time in going for its target.

Rylis cried out, fingers scrabbling at the grass, his

wings fluttering without his input. That clever tongue
circled and prodded, teasing, then began to force its
way in, past tight muscles that had forgotten what it

was to be opened by a lover. Rylis writhed upon that
tongue, his voice cracking as he pleaded for more.
Even the burn and stretch seeming to pale beside
what he knew would come.

When at last Tamrin reached the sweet spot

within, Rylis came up on his elbows, his wings
mantling around them both, his voice beautiful in that
moment as he sang his pleasure to the sky.

Tamrin hummed, bright golden eyes fixed upon

Rylis’s half-dazed ones. That intent stare made Rylis
flush, and from his new position, he watched with
fascination as that tongue thrust in and out,

mimicking what was to come. Heat pounded through
him, and a faint whimper left his throat at the sheer
eroticism of what he was viewing.

“I am supposed to be loving you,” he finally

managed, his voice so hoarse it hardly seemed his
own.

“Later,” Tamrin grunted, withdrawing his tongue

for a moment to lick his lips, his look entirely wicked.
“Believe me, this is what I want right now. Later you
can touch me however you want.” A large hand

pushed Rylis’s chest, encouraging him to lie back
down. He did so, his breathing loud in his ears as
Tamrin took hold of his legs, holding them up and
out as he pulled Rylis’s hips up onto his lap with a
negligent strength that made Rylis’s pulse race even
more.

Tamrin arched his back, letting the tip of his shaft

nudge and prod at Rylis’s entrance.

Then he slowly angled his hips, bringing pressure

to bear. The large, plum-shaped tip slipped within,
and Tamrin stopped there, letting Rylis catch his
breath at the intrusion.

Rylis closed his eyes, sucking in air. The pain was

wonderful, real. This was real, there could be no
further doubt. His Eth, his Tamrin, was within him,
was taking him as he had dreamed of for so very
long. Unlike the long ago taking, this was by Rylis’s
own will.

He felt a tear run down his cheek, and the look of

concern from Tamrin made him shake his head. It
was not a tear of pain, but of joy.

His look must have conveyed that satisfactorily,

because his Eth smiled, a slow, gentle smile that
showed no matter what other changes may have
taken place, his Tamrin was still within, still the
healer he had loved so long ago.

He gasped as that shaft surged deeper, parting

his body, stretching him so very intimately, hot and

pulsing against the walls of his channel. He savored
the helpless feeling, his shoulders pressed against the
grass, wings pinned beneath him, his legs held high
and tight.

Tamrin’s eyes seemed to blaze, and his hot gaze

moved between watching every nuance of Rylis’s

expressions to viewing his own handiwork as his
shaft stretched Rylis’s opening to its limits.

Rylis arched, impaled ever further as Tamrin

pressed deeper. He keened, a moaning wail as his
body reacted to the invader, convulsing around the
thick shaft in pulsing waves that had Tamrin
clenching his teeth and gritting out what sounded like
an Eth curse.

When at last Tamrin was pressed firmly against

the back of Rylis’s thighs, it took some time for the
cessation of movement to register in Rylis’s mind. He
was locked in some inner moment, his body attuned

to each sensation, his mind overwhelmed with what
this all meant.

When finally he took a deep breath and came

back to himself, he met Tamrin’s scorching gaze. The
Eth’s lip was drawn back in a half snarl, and he
looked almost bestial, his intensity focused solely on
Rylis.

Rylis shivered, something primal waking in him

in response to Tamrin’s behavior. He found himself

growling, a low, vibrant sound of need that seemed to
escape his throat without his knowledge.

Tamrin gave a low snarl in answer, then slowly

withdrew his shaft, before pushing back in with more
speed. Rylis cried out, hands spastically clutching at
his Eth’s thighs in an attempt to ground himself,

anchor himself against the swirl of emotion and
sensation that seemed to enclose him utterly.

His wings, unable to stay still, circled them,

blocking the harsh sunlight and leaving welcome
shadow upon sweating bodies. Rylis’s hips began to
rock in the rhythm of that which pierced him, and he
moaned with each thrust.

The thick shaft brushed over his prostate with

force, and each pass brought almost overwhelming
pleasure. Dear gods, how had he lived without this?
How had he survived without his Eth? He thrust
away the past with impatience. There was only now,

this moment, this intensity.

He gasped, sweat trailing over his body, feeling

sweet tension coil ever higher in his body. His balls
began to draw up against his body, and he fought
against the sensation. No! He did not want it to end, it
was too soon, too…

The orgasm came so abruptly it was almost more

pain than pleasure, and he threw his head back,
staring at the sky with unseeing eyes as he gave a

long, undulating wail, come pulsing out over his
chest in hot spurts.

Tamrin’s grip tightened, and he rose on his knees,

leaving Rylis on his shoulders, and began to pummel
into his lover with short, powerful strokes of his hips,
breath harsh and erratic. Golden eyes blazed down as

Rylis weakly managed to meet that intense gaze, and
then he slammed in one last time, hips pressed tightly
against Rylis’s thighs, before he threw his head back
and gave a eerie cry that echoed off the trees and
seemed to linger in the air even after Tamrin
collapsed forward, barely able to brace himself
against crushing Rylis.

They lay there, in tableau, panting.
Rylis’s wings had gone limp, falling to the grass,

and once more the sun bore down upon them.

“Too hot,” Tamrin finally moaned, forcing

himself to move back to his knees and to release

Rylis’s uncomfortable curled position.

Rylis made a sound of protest as Tamrin’s shaft

slowly, gently, slid from his tight channel.

He hurt, but in such a good way. He had been

claimed at last, belonging to Tamrin, even as Tamrin
seemed to belong to him. It all seemed so impossible,
and yet—

It had happened.
Rylis smiled.

They dressed slowly, with much touching, as

though both of them had to reassure themselves of
the other’s presence in truth.

“You have things to bring?” Tamrin’s question

was hesitant. It was clear even now he believed Rylis
would choose to stay in his own world.

Rylis thought of his pack, leaning against the wall

of the town hall, and shook his head. “There is
nothing I need that I will not find within Teeathun,
and my horse is free to wander. He will return home
when he wishes to. All I need is standing before me.”

He drew Tamrin down and kissed him with deep

reverence, attempting to put every complex emotion
he felt into that gesture. Tamrin cupped his face and
responded with a murmur of love.

When at last they drew apart, Tamrin held out his

hand. “Come, my love. There is so much I have to
show you, so much I want to share and all the time in

the world to do it.”

Rylis grinned, an emerging shadow of his old self

appearing briefly. He reached out without hesitation
to grasp that hand, and they walked together to the
verge of Teeathun.

There Rylis paused. The energy was gentler now

that he stood with Tamrin, a sensation of the forest
welcoming him as one of its own, not an intruder at
all. Tamrin stopped, watching him with a worried tilt

of brows as though he thought Rylis would balk at
the last minute.

Rylis looked over his shoulder at the bright sky

and the land of the Melanians—and then he turned
back to Tamrin, no doubt in his eyes.

Tamrin gave a great laugh and lifted him into his

arms, holding him tightly as they entered the barrier
together.

Epilogue

Warin made his yearly pilgrimage to Teeathun, as

he had for the last ten years. He had his escort, as a
king must, but at the edge of the new-growth forest
facing Teeathun, he went alone, as far as he could, as
close as he could bear to the barrier. There he knelt,
sometimes for an hour or more, thinking of his father,
missing him, yet hoping he was happy where he was,
that he had found what he had so needed all his life.

He would often talk out loud, telling his father of

things that happened and things to come. Last year
had been about his marriage, this year it would be
about so much more.

This time, he knelt upon the cool grass, gathering

his thoughts, and then suddenly, before his eyes, a
figure emerged from the barrier, energy swirling
around it so that it seemed otherworldly, ethereal—
exactly as his father had described.

An Eth.
His guards snapped to attention, but he waved

them back, fascinated eyes fixed upon the painfully
beautiful being before him.

So tall, so pale with golden eyes that flashed in

the sun, wings that seemed too fragile to be real.

All his life, Warin had longed for this single

moment.

To see such beauty surely changed him. It would

forever be etched upon his mind’s eye.

The graceful form slowly began to pace towards

him with measured steps, almost floating over the
ground.

He rose to his feet, heart pounding.
Could this be…
The Eth stopped some small distance away, long

white hair blowing in the breeze, his intense eyes
mapping Warin’s face as if searching for something.
He seemed to find it, because his body relaxed
somewhat. He smiled, revealing the edges of sharp
Eth teeth.

“You are my consort’s son. You are Warin.”

Warin sucked in a deep breath, his mind

whirling. The being spoke his language. “You are—
Tamrin?”

The Eth gave a half-bow, the smile remaining. “I

am he.”

Warin gave a great sigh, tension leaving his

whole body. “I have wanted to meet you, see you,
forever.” He wondered how foolish that sounded.

Tamrin’s look grew soft. “He has told me of that,

told me of you. He misses you, your brother, your
mother, his friends.”

Warin nodded, heart pounding at this unexpected

link to his father. “We miss him also, but we are
comforted that he is where he so longed to be.” He

paused, afraid to give insult, but needing to know.
“He is happy, is he not? Please give me that, at least.”

Tamrin grew serious, putting one long-fingered

hand over his heart. “I swear it. He has known much
joy since he came and brings joy to those who love
him. He is busy and content, teaching our young Eths
hand-to-hand combat for the future of our people, so
they need never be fearful of others. I only wish it
was not at the price of exile from his family.”

Warin tried to smile, but his emotions were too

fragile for that, and it became more of a grimace. “I
love him enough to want his happiness over my

selfish desire to have him close by. But I miss him,
love him.”

Tamrin tilted his head, empathy clear in those

amazing eyes. “One day, I hope that the barrier will
let your father through, though I cannot promise such
a thing.”

Warin nodded, though he did not hold out much

hope for such a miracle. It was simpler to believe that
his father was gone than to live for something that
might never come. “Could you give him a message

from me?” The heartfelt need in that tentative
statement made Warin flush.

“That is why I came. The forest had told me that

you come each year, but I felt that you would only
hate the sight of me, hate me for taking your father
away.”

Warin shook his head, something of the wonder

of the child shining through for brief moments. “No.
Father told me of you since I was small. I always
wanted to see an Eth, to know what he loved so
much. I could never hate you.”

Tamrin was still, then he gave a true smile that lit

his features into indescribable beauty. “I thank you,
young king, for those kind words. I will give him
your message.”

“Tell him—that I am married now, have a son of

my own, and I have named him Rylis. Tell him that
my mother has remarried, that she is so happy now.

Tell him—that my brother has begun to regret his
actions—that one day, I hope, he will be able to love
Father as Father loved him.”

Tamrin laughed softly, delight in his eyes. “So

much in your life. He will be pleased with your news,
pleased beyond words that I saw you, spoke to you.
This will be a gift beyond price.” He paused. “Would
you accept a hug from me, in lieu of your father? I
will understand if you refuse. There is no need…”

Warin stepped toward the taller being and

wrapped his arms around the slender waist, leaning
his cheek against the broad chest. There was a
sensation of great warmth, great power held leashed,
and there, just on the edges of Warin’s senses, lay a
familiar energy, a hint of his father.

He cried then, silently, tears dripping down his

face to wet the fabric of the Eth’s shirt. Arms wrapped
around him, and he felt safe, protected, as though he
were a small child again.

They stood thus for a time out of reckoning, until

Warin had the strength to pull away, back into the
chill of reality. A claw gently pushed back Warin’s
hair, golden eyes warm upon his face.

“Your father loves you. Never doubt that. He is

so proud of what you became, proud of you as both
man and king. He speaks of you with such infinite
joy.” Tamrin nodded. “Now I see what he means.

Now I can feel what you are, and he is right in his
measuring of you.”

Warin flushed. For some reason those few words

meant more to him than all the flattery he had
received as king.

These meant something.
“I must go, but I promise to deliver your

message.” The Eth took a step back, and it was as
though the day grew colder.

“Tell him I love him. Tell him I will be back next

year.” Warin felt his throat closing up. He was so
close, yet so far away from his father. It seemed more
cruel than when he thought him gone forever.

“I will be here, young one.” Tamrin’s smile was

understanding, as if Warin could have wept the day

through and not been judged adversely by the Eth.

Such empathy.
They bowed to each other. “Thank you,” Warin

whispered.

The Eth nodded, then turned and walked away

with that peculiar grace, simply stepping into the
barrier as it hissed and surged around him.

Warin stood for a long time, staring, wondering,

but at last he had to turn away, had to go back to his
life.

But a smile was on his face, even if tears shone in

the sun.

He laughed out loud, little caring if his escort

thought him mad. “Father!” he shouted. “I saw an Eth
today!”

~End~

~ About the Author ~

Writing has always been of the utmost

importance to me, often a means of expressing
frustration, anger, and grief during terrible times in
my life. It was also there for the joys and triumphs, a

faithful companion through it all that never failed me.
I do indeed love to write and have over twenty books
sitting idle in my computer, waiting… I started off
writing under the name of J.C. McGuire, with two
historical books, “My Name is Aelida”, (a novel of
Arthurian Briton and the strength of a woman in a
world where men rule and her ancient bloodline is
more important than her happiness), and “Shadow of
the Sun”, a very emotional novel of Alexander the
Great and his lover Hephaistion. Done from
Hephaistion’s viewpoint, (we all know that he dies in

the end) it was the hardest thing I have ever written. I
still get tears when I read it. I still love all three of
those books and actually read them as if someone else
wrote them!!

“Shadow of the Sun” got me into the male/male

genre and I began to write under J.C. Owens. I enjoy
writing of the beauty of men loving men, plus the
conflict in what a person thinks they want, versus
what they truly need to become themselves.

I love to hear from my readers and always

appreciate suggestions and comments for future

~ Blurb and Excerpt from Taken by J.C. Owens ~

Kidnapping the brother of a mob boss was madness. If

only it had stayed that simple.

It had all gone wrong. Sent as a mercenary to

kidnap Kirith Martinelli from his tropical island
home, Landon finds himself on the wrong end of a
job gone bad. But there’s more to Kirith than meets
the eye—he’s the brother of feared mob boss Enzo

Martinelli, and he’s taken Landon as his captive.
Kirith makes Landon an offer he can’t refuse: stay
with him for three months—until he tires of Landon’s
body—and then Landon may go free.

Landon, fearing his own criminal family more

than the man before him, quickly agrees. Three
months will buy him enough time for his brothers to
lose his scent, and then freedom will be his. But that
freedom has a steeper price than Landon bargained
for as he’s drawn into the secrets of Kirith’s past. He
can’t ignore the sadness and loss behind his captor’s

beautiful eyes, and Landon finds himself wondering
if three months will be enough—for either of them…

Kirith leaned back in the chair, a furrow forming

on his brow. He seemed to come to himself with a
faint curse.

He swung his gaze back to Landon, meeting his

gaze. Steepling his fingers together, he regarded
Landon over their tips.

“I have been considering what to do with you.”
Landon tensed, swallowing the last of the orange

juice with a single gulp and setting the glass down

with a thump, his heart beginning to pound.

Still, Kirith didn’t seem like he was about to do

something terrible; he seemed more contemplative
than anything else, certainly nothing like he had been
when he first captured Landon.

Landon watched him warily, not trusting this

sudden change.

Kirith gave a faint sigh and rubbed his jaw with

one hand. At that moment, he looked weary, as
though Landon were just another problem he had to
contend with, and an unwelcome one at that.

“Now that my initial anger has died down, I find

myself in a quandary. Considering that you did not
harm Laura, I am at somewhat of a loss. I have
thought of giving you to one of my friends and letting
them deal with you, but…”

Landon couldn’t decide if that would be worse or

better. Certainly he didn’t want to be with whoever
had Nate. He wanted to be nowhere near his brother.
If he survived this, this might be his only chance to
escape, to be free of both Nate and Adrian once and
for all.

Kirith sighed again, bringing Landon back to the

present.

His captor looked at him with a faint grimace, as

though he would rather not have this task at all, and
Landon keenly felt his own fault in this. He was the
one who had invaded this man’s island; certainly

Kirith hadn’t asked for them to come. Was it so
surprising that the man wanted him gone?

“I have a proposition for you,” Kirith’s tone held

no inflection, nothing to indicate which way this was
leading. “If you accept it, your imprisonment is over,
though you will be remaining on the island. If you
refuse, then I can give you to another, if that is what
you wish. Either way, I do not want you remaining
here as a prisoner. There is too much chance of Laura
discovering why you’re here and I will not have her
upset. Is that clear?”

Landon nodded warily. This all sounded too

good to be true. This man wouldn’t simply offer him
something straightforward, would he?

“I am minus a companion at the moment. The last

one I sent on his way for being a greedy,
manipulative, whiny bastard.” Kirith gave an
unamused smile, his eyes cold and hard. “I have no
use for clingy lovers. They bore me.” He leaned
forward a little, watching Landon’s expression
closely. “The deal is this. You are attractive enough,
and Michael’s tests came back clean. Give me your

body for a few months, until I tire of it, then you may
go free.”

Landon was speechless. He blinked several times,

trying to get his mind around what he had just heard.
Then he surged to his feet, fists clenched. “No fucking
way! Marcello offered the same damn thing. You

think I would accept it from you when I refused it
from him? You can go to fucking hell!”

Kirith shrugged, rose to his feet, and headed for

the door. “It was only a suggestion. Since you have
refused it so categorically, I will speak to the others
and have one of them take you. I’ll let you know who
tomorrow.” He rapped on the door and when it
opened, he left without a backward glance.

Landon was left in silence, stunned, angry, and

wondering if he had just made a terrible mistake.