Sorry it's taken me so long to get this posted.
I hope you like it.
For more information about the release of BELOVED, please check out the update I posted HERE. Please don't send me hate mail. I'm doing the best I can.
And because I love you guys so much, here's the first two chapters to wet your appetite.
Chapter
One
Kira slept for three
days, waking only when her swelling brain would let her. She’d never felt so
much pain. When Draego slammed her head against a tree, her world slipped
sideways and crumbled into a million little pieces. She remembered some things,
knew who she was and bits and pieces of what had happened, only they were
jumbled and, she thought, in the wrong order.
She took in a deep
breath of musty, damp air and rolled to her side. The constant drip of rain
water echoing off the cave walls didn’t help her splitting headache. At her
side, on the cold, clay-like soil, lay her bow, quiver of arrows, and knife.
She glanced toward the small opening to find Nigel’s sleeping form slumped
against the wall, silhouetted by the moonlight streaming in. As far as she
knew, he’d not left her side except to find the few nuts and berries they’d
eaten to stay alive.
Kira adjusted the wool
blanket around her shoulders. When she drew her knees up, something moved under
the blanket and brushed against her backside. She let out a squeal and shoved
the blanket—creature and all—down past her feet, then grabbed her knife from
its sheath. Nigel sprang toward her on his knees and scooped up the bundle,
then thwarted Kira’s stab by clamping his fingers around her wrist. He shook
his head, only letting go when she lowered her weapon.
“What is that?” All
she could think of was a fat rat the size of a pit-bull and the thought of it
snuggling up to her made the hair on her arms stand up. She hated rats, even
more than she hated being called Mouse by her mother. “Get it out of here!”
The creature hissed
and wiggled while Nigel slowly peeled back the blanket. Kira sat up and scooted
against the wall, keeping her knife held tight in her hand.
“Are you crazy? Don’t
let it out!”
The words had barely
escaped her mouth, when the creature sprang from Nigel’s arms and came straight
for Kira, stumbling before rolling over onto its back and begging for a rub.
“Mahli?” Kira smiled
at the sight of her little friend. She remembered now—finding the cub in the
forest, her mother’s throat slit and her brother’s little body ripped to shreds
by some animal—most likely Shandira. Mahli had been found pressed against her
dead mother’s tummy, pumping her front paws in rhythm with her heart wrenching
whimpers.
Nigel shook out the
blanket and draped it over the lower half of Kira’s body and legs. Mahli leapt onto
Kira’s lap and curled into a fuzzy ball—or tried to. Her head drooped off one
side and her butt off the other. She’d doubled in size since Kira had first
seen her and it wouldn’t be long before she’d be too heavy to pick up.
Kira rubbed her arms in a frail attempt to
warm herself. “Can we build a fire?”
Nigel’s brow furrowed.
“Have I asked that
before? And you said no?” She vaguely remembered it.
Nigel nodded.
“I’m sorry. I’m just
so cold and my head . . .” She reached up and felt the tender spot on the back
of her head, her chopped-off hair still matted with blood. Each time she woke
she tried to heal it. She’d managed to seal the flesh wound and stop the
bleeding—even the small crack in her skull had mended on the third try—but her
brain was a different story. She’d relieved some of the pressure, but the
swelling that remained not only left her confused and disoriented, but
nauseated as well.
“Maybe I should try healing
again. I feel more awake now and the pain isn’t as bad.”
Nigel scooted closer
and shrugged out of his hooded cloak, draping it around her shoulders. He’d
offered it several times, but she’d always refused, knowing he had nothing but
a thin tunic to guard against the frigid air. This time she accepted it.
“Thanks.” She wrapped
the thick black fabric around her shoulders, taking full advantage of the
warmth that remained from his body. She gently flipped the hood over her head
to drown out the sound of the pounding rain, leaned over Mahli and rested her
face in her hands. If she could endure the pain of healing long enough, it
would rid her of the constant throbbing and maybe her memories would slip into
place and make sense. She could do this.
Focusing on the pain
in the back of her head, she tried to imagine the swelling slowly decreasing.
With every second she felt nerve endings under her flesh spring to life,
tingling and pulsing as the part of her brain associated with certain parts of
her body shifted and adjusted. The fingers on her left hand jerked into a spasm
that made them curl awkwardly into a claw. A moment later her hand relaxed and
her right foot kicked of its own accord, making Mahli jump and scramble to the
other side of the cave. She hissed and her fur puffed up across her back and
shoulders.
Along with the
peculiar gyrations came the memories, all pouring out of her mind like the rain
outside the cave. At first they were muddled—Lydia snapping pictures of wildflowers,
Mahli chasing a strange butterfly-looking creature, Zerek running his hands up
the front of her shirt, Octavion brushing the hair back from Serena’s face.
Octavion.
With that memory
brought deep, deep sorrow. Oh, how she loved him and wanted more than anything
to be with him now. But that would never happen. Not after the King of Kazedon
put a price on her head and sent his assassins to kill her. She remembered Shandira’s
last words, telling her that if Kira lived, everyone she loved would die.
Kira had chosen not to
believe her. After all, Octavion had gone to plead with the king to call off
his men. But on the road back to Xantara, when Draego and his brother attacked her,
she knew there would be no going back. Only her death would satisfy King Tyrius’
hunger for revenge—his avengement for Kira killing his son, the prince and only
heir of Kazedon.
Kira slid her hand
under the blanket and rubbed her thigh where the first swing of Draego’s blade had
torn her skin. She’d healed the wound almost instantly, but the tear in her
leather pants still remained. She glanced up to find Nigel watching her,
concern on his face.
“I can’t really
remember what happened after I hit my head. It’s kind of a blur.” She closed
her eyes and rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers. “I . . . think
Draego grabbed my braid and tried to yank me up, but . . .” She looked back at
Nigel. “I cut off my own hair to keep him from doing that, didn’t I? He must
have lost his balance because I remember him falling to the ground and then . .
.”
She looked down at her
hands, then at the moonlight filtering through the rain and causing a strange
rippling light show across the cave walls. A sickening feeling settled in her
stomach.
“I flew.” She wasn’t
sure how she’d come to that conclusion, only that she remembered the feeling of
being tied to the end of a pendulum and the way her stomach felt with each
swooping motion.
Nigel leaned forward
and touched her arm, shaking his head. He pointed to himself, then at the
ceiling of the cave.
“You flew?” Something was seriously wrong with the way she’d healed
her brain if she believed for one moment that either one of them could fly. She
didn’t care how strange this world was, people didn’t sprout wings and fly. At
least she didn’t think so.
A smirk lit up Nigel’s
face and he shook his head again. He reached for a satchel that sat near her
weapons, opened the flap and took out the sketch book Kira had knocked out of
his hand in the village. He opened it and retrieved a small thin piece of charcoal
from a pouch in the front.
Kira watched as he
drew the scene in the forest. First he sketched a set of tall trees with thick
branches. Then he drew the figure of a man standing on one of those branches,
the handle of a whip in his hand, the popper end of the whip wrapped around
another branch. Next he drew the figure of a girl sitting at the base of that
same tree. He stopped drawing, but motioned with his hand from the man to the
ground in front of the girl.
“You swung down and
scooped me up into the trees?”
Nigel nodded.
“But . . . why? I
mean, why didn’t you jump down and kill Draego?” Her mind wandered back to when
she’d been held captive by Shandira—how Nigel waited until Kira had practically
starved to death before bringing her food. He’d also been conveniently absent
when she fought off Cael and Zerek until she’d spent all her energy and Cael
had her pinned under the weight of his body, determined to rape her.
Her blood began to
boil and her eyes burned cold, turning the cave a sparkly green. She could see
him clearly now, as tiny flits of light bounced around their heads. She folded
her arms over her chest. “Were you there the whole time, watching him beat the
crap out of me?”
Nigel stiffened,
shaking his head from side to side while reaching for her.
Kira backed away and
stabbed a finger toward his face. “Don’t touch me.” She held his uneasy stare
for a few moments while trying to figure it all out in her head. She remembered
Octavion’s words about how Darkords could snap—turn from someone you could
trust into a monster in seconds. Had she misjudged Nigel? Had he only saved her
so she could be his pet or some kind of companion?
She shrugged out from
under his cloak and shoved it at him. “You need to go back where you were. I
need to think this through.”
The muscles in Nigel’s
jaw tightened and his eyes darkened from their chocolate brown to ebony and
back again—a quick flash of anger. He let out a huff of air then retreated to
where he’d been sleeping, only this time he abandoned his cloak and exited the
cave.
Kira let out a sigh of
relief. The last thing she wanted was to anger him, especially since he was a
Darkord, but until she figured everything out in her head, she couldn’t trust
him. She couldn’t trust anyone.
Chapter
Two
“What in Zi’ah’s name
were you thinking?” Altaria barked as Octavion entered their father’s sleeping
chambers—a place she’d grown to call her prison cell.
He put his hand up in
hopes it would silence his sister, but she continued without missing a beat.
“Have you no brain?
King Tyrius is furious. You have caught him in a lie and embarrassed him in the
process. He will never agree to stop hunting Kira now. He will be more
determined than ever.” Altaria poked a finger at Octation’s chest. “She is as
good as dead and it is your fault.”
Octavion pushed her
hand away. “I did no such thing. Draego is the one who could not keep his mouth
shut. He let the truth out to his drinking cronies at the village pub. You
cannot blame me for that.”
“You bribed the pub
owner to serve Draego his strongest brew and to keep his mug full. You even
paid the other patrons to bring up the subject of Kira’s death and to encourage
Draego to tell them what really happened out there. It is your fault.”
“At least now we know
she is alive. You have to admit my idea worked and was worth the price I paid.”
“You are missing the
point. What you did put her in even more danger. And what about Draego’s
family? They will seek to avenge his death as well—not to mention the death of
his brother when she was attacked. And do not tell me you had nothing to do
with Draego’s head adorning a pike in the middle of Kazedon’s village square.”
She shifted her weight to one foot and propped her fists on her hips. “Well?”
Octavion slumped
against the wooden door. That’s as far as he’d gotten before his sister came at
him with her accusations. The last thing he wanted was to fight with Altaria.
Mostly because she was right, except for one thing. “I had nothing to do with
his death.”
“And his head?”
“What kind of a
monster do you think I am? That did nothing to punish him for his crime, only
tortured the innocent women and children who saw it. If it were up to me I
would have ripped him to shreds with my bare hands and fed him to the . . .” He
straightened and walked to the fireplace where large flames licked the cool
night air. His imagined revenge was far worse that what anyone else could have
done to Draego. Maybe he was a monster. “I did not kill him.”
Altaria softened her
voice. “At least tell me you have a plan, that you know where to start
looking.”
Octavion turned to
face his sister. “Luka has sent out scouts to gather information, but has yet
to receive word. Cade tracked Althros for several hours before it began to
rain. The trail he did manage to follow took him north, toward Finvarra. We’ll
start there.”
“So when do we leave?”
Altaria twisted her long blonde braid between her fingers.
“We?” He moved closer, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Father
would have my hide if I let you leave this room.”
He expected her to put
up a fight, but she didn’t. Instead she shrugged out from under his hand and
went to the window. She separated the drapes so she could peek out, causing a
thin strip of light to splash across the room.
“Sometimes I can feel
her.”
Octavion stepped to
the window and placed his hand on the small of her back. “Kira?”
She turned and looked
up at him. Though her eyes were the color of blue ice, warmth radiated from
them. “My kindred spirit. It is as if we are both reaching, our fingertips
almost touching, then she’s swept away into the darkness.” She lowered her head
and leaned into her brother’s arms. “I feel empty inside, as if my soul has
been taken from me.”
Octavion’s heart
clenched. With all the concoctions he’d created in his lifetime, not one could
cure what ailed his sister and her kindred spirit. He tightened his arms around
her and whispered into her hair. “Have you drawn on your faith? Asked Felinea
for her guidance?”
Altaria’s shoulders
slumped as she slowly pushed away, her focus on her feet. “I haven’t prayed
since I was a child. And I have no faith.”
“Then perhaps you
should start there.” He lifted her chin with the tip of his finger until their
eyes met. “If you can’t believe in the gods, believe in Lydia. When she is
ready, you will find her.”
He left her standing
near the window, her arms sagging at her sides, eyes staring at nothing. What
he wouldn’t give to see the Altaria he remembered, the one who never backed
down from a fight and believed she could do anything. This Altaria was nearly a
stranger to him—broken and lost. There was nothing he could do to help her.
