Chapter Two WITCHING MOON

Chapter Two

WITCHING MOON

Week One, Day Nine

Year 3000

Usually, Sachi didn't mind the waiting.

Or, more accurately, she understood it. Ash would never sit idly by as the people of the Sheltered Lands were threatened—even if that threat came from within, at the hands of their own rulers. Neither would Zanya. She'd experienced firsthand the sort of cruelty that House Roquebarre would gladly visit on its own subjects, and she would stop it wherever and however she could. In their hearts, they were soldiers.

So Sachi understood. Fire burned. Water was wet. Soldiers went to war.

And when they did, they left people like her behind.

The night breeze picked at Sachi's hair, blowing the loose locks around her face. The days weren't so bad. Dragon's Keep was large, with enough of a permanent population of crafters and acolytes to qualify as a settlement. There were always plenty of tasks to occupy the lady of the keep.

But the nights, when the keep's tavern awoke but everything else fell asleep? The nights were lonely, quiet and interminable. She spent most of them sitting in the consort's garden, looking out over the courtyards and the caldera, waiting for her lovers to return.

"My lady?"

Startled, Sachi turned to the petite, battle-hardened blonde who served as her personal guard. "Ambrial. I am so, so sorry—"

"But you weren't listening." Ambrial favored her with a small, forgiving smile more suited to a holy woman than a near-mythic warrior. "Understandably, your thoughts are elsewhere."

"To put it mildly."

"We don't have to speak," Ambrial offered. "Silence has its worth."

"No. I asked you to distract me, then promptly refused to let you. I'm beastly."

Ambrial hid another, more amused smile behind her hand. "As you say, my lady. Shall I begin again?"

"Please do."

"Then I'll tell you about the sundering of the continents." Ambrial squared her shoulders. "Back when the gods we know were young, the earth was ... different. The Dream had shaped it into one land surrounded by one sea. United and harmonious. Then came the War of the Gods."

Ash had spoken of it, though rarely, as if the pain of it all was still too fresh. The Builder, as he was then known to his fellow gods, had sought to exploit the earth's resources in order to further his construction projects and industrial progress. But he'd taken things much too far, stripped and scarred the land beyond its ability to recover naturally. The Builder became the Betrayer, and when the other gods had tried to stop him ...

War.

"None of the gods wanted to fight their brother, but they'd exhausted every avenue of diplomacy and appeasement. So, in order to spare the others the pain of marching against one of their own, the Dragon claimed the fight as his, and stood against the Betrayer alone."

Oh, Ash. It was so him that an ache rose in Sachi's throat, a noise caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob. There was nothing he wouldn't take on himself, no agony he wouldn't endure to protect his family.

"The earth itself wept as the Dragon and the Betrayer fought. The very ground beneath their feet tore apart in protest and crashed back together in grief, raising the Western Wall, along with a brand-new range of mountains along the border. Fire burned across the plains, blackening the soil, and then over the deserts, so hot the sand turned to glass."

The visual pierced Sachi's mind, bringing with it an image of the twisted vista so clear, she felt as if the very real expanse of it stretched out before her.

Ambrial drew in a shaky breath. "The Dragon and the Betrayer fought bitterly, slamming one another against the torn earth with such force that their infantries were knocked back, unable to intervene. So they continued to fight, just the two of them, shattering rock and hot glass, leaving craters so deep we can still see the scars today."

The evocative words slipped beneath Sachi's skin, thrummed in her veins, lit her senses until she could hear the sky howling and smell the rent earth. She closed her eyes and swore she could feel the hot sand beneath her bare feet. She clenched her fists and tasted the iron tang of blood in her mouth.

The wind whipped Sachi's hair around her face now, driven by hot gusts that stung her cheeks.

When she opened her eyes, the garden had vanished. So had Ambrial, and the consort's tower, and the whole of Dragon's Keep. Sachi stood in a desert, so vast that it seemed to never end. Dark clouds roiled overhead, turning over and over in a dizzying tumble, interrupted only by sharp, jagged flashes of lightning.

Sachi squinted. In the distance, so far away she could barely make out the shapes as human, two figures clashed. Watching them hurt , and Sachi's pulse sped. Out of instinct, she started to move toward them, but her feet were so heavy she could barely lift them.

Suddenly, the figures shot high up into the air, arcing through the sky as if propelled by some unseen force. When they slammed back to the ground, raising a plume of sand as they slid across the desert floor, they were much closer. Sachi almost lost her balance and fell as the earth rumbled and shook.

Sachi managed to stay on her feet, but then she rubbed the grit from her eyes, and she nearly sank to the sand anyway. One of the people fighting was Ash, and the other was a red-haired man with a short beard. Both were bruised and bloodied.

Realization overwhelmed Sachi, and she swayed on her feet. She was watching the distant past unfold. The War of the Gods, when the earth—along with Ash's heart—had been sundered by greed and treachery. Was it merely her imagination, fleshing out Ambrial's story in vivid detail? Or was she literally seeing a vision of the events of long ago?

It felt real, so Sachi surrendered herself to the vision. Every bit of her, body and soul, right down to the marrow, longed for Ash—to call out, to go to him. To rescue him from this dreadful fight that no one could ever win.

She knew she couldn't intervene, but still she stepped forward just as the red-haired man— the Betrayer —drew back his arm for a brutal punch. To her shock, he stopped, as if his attention had been drawn by something.

And then he looked up at her.

His brow furrowed as his gaze fixed unmistakably on her, roving over her face. Sachi froze, afraid to move. Afraid to break the spell, but also of what might happen if she inserted herself any more fully into this ancient, long-past moment.

Then the man exhaled, the sound full of shock but also a strange sort of yearning. "Are you real or a dream?"

The moment shattered as Ash roared and pushed him back far enough to plant both feet on the man's chest for a solid kick. The Betrayer went flying through the air, screaming.

Sachi reached for Ash. Her fingers barely grazed his bare shoulder before she, too, was flying, only away , back through time, through space.

Back to herself.

She gasped in a breath. Ambrial half stood over her, having started to rise from her seat, concern etched on her pale, delicate features.

"Are you well?" her guard asked anxiously.

Sachi laughed, but it came out sounding too high and a little breathless. "Fine. I'm fine. I just drifted off into my own world again, that's all."

"Yes," Ambrial said slowly. "Yes, my lady. I believe that you did."

She sounded too serious, as if, on some level, she understood. As if she'd somehow seen the truth, and Sachi didn't know what to say.

In the end, she didn't have to say anything, because the blaring of horns brought her to her feet. They weren't the sharp, discordant blasts she'd heard in drills, meant to signal an attack. These horns were deep, mellifluous, heralding the arrival of the Lord of the Keep.

"Ash," she breathed into the night breeze. "Zanya."

She hit the curved exterior stairs, the endless stone steps that led down from the consort's garden to the castle's battlements. She ran along them, brushing past the stationed guards in her haste to reach the next set of stairs.

By the time Sachi reached the courtyard and the wide wooden gate that secured it, the returning group had made it to the Godwalk. The small towers that served as the court's base of operations at Dragon's Keep rose on either side, casting the new arrivals in a dizzying mix of shadow and light from the windows.

Panting and breathless, Sachi clenched her hands into fists to keep from clutching her side. But the breath she did have deserted her entirely when she caught sight of Zanya's blood-streaked face.

"You're bleeding," she gasped, stumbling forward.

Ash was there immediately, his soothing grip steadying Sachi's steps as his voice washed over her. "It's not hers. She only got a scratch, and it's already healed."

"I'm fine." Zanya caught Sachi's hands before they could make contact. "I promise I'm fine. But I'll ruin your dress."

Sachi yanked her hands free and threw her arms around Zanya's neck. "Damn the dress," she rasped. "And damn you for scaring me like that."

She held on, trembling with relief, as Zanya patted her back, insensate to the gentle murmurs in her ear until she heard one word: Velez .

An icy chill slithered up Sachi's spine at the mention of the loathsome man, and she drew back. "Velez was part of this attack?"

Elevia snorted. "He was. And now he's part of your very lovely velvet dressing gown."

"Oh." Sachi's stomach turned—not from the reminder of the blood soaking her gown, but at the implications. Velez was an important person, well-regarded among not only the courtiers but the extended royal family, as well.

Zanya's jaw tightened as she avoided Sachi's seeking gaze. It didn't matter—Sachi knew her well enough to read the tangle of emotions on her face. Defensive guilt, stubborn satisfaction ... and a whisper of the pain that had chased them both from the capital.

Ash sighed softly. "It was a complicated situation—" he started, only to be cut off by Ulric's rough snort.

"It was a disaster," the Wolf said shortly.

Sadly, Sachi suspected it was an understatement. Ulric had a particular talent for that. But that was a private conversation, one she needed to have with Ash and Zanya alone.

So she took their hands and smiled tightly at the others. "I'm so pleased you all made it back. But I need to see to my lovers just now. You understand?"

Ulric inclined his head respectfully before turning to the massive stone building that served as his home when he was in residence at Dragon's Keep. Elevia followed, staying close behind him instead of breaking away to her tower next door.

Aleksi hesitated, then nodded. "Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow." Ash put one hand at the small of Zanya's back and pulled Sachi to his chest with the other.

They could have walked back through the castle and up the endless steps, but Zanya was too anxious to be away from watchful eyes. Shadows twirled out from her in a wild, eager storm, abruptly spinning darkness around the three of them. The world vanished, replaced with the momentary sensation of falling, and Sachi's feet hit the plush woven rug at the foot of her bed.

This was her chamber, her space, and she sprang into action. She pointed at Ash, then at the hearth, where she'd already hung two fresh kettles of water to boil. "You, light that. Then fetch me some bathing cloths, please. And you ..." She turned to Zanya, who stood there with a wary expression. "Let's get you out of that armor."

Zanya took a step back, already fumbling with the blood-encrusted buckles. "I can do it."

Sachi batted her hands away, then tried to brush away a spot of blood beneath Zanya's eye. It only smeared. "I'm going to do it. And you're going to allow me."

"You don't need to get blood on your hands," Zanya whispered, but she wasn't fighting it anymore.

"I know what I need to do," Sachi countered.

Behind Zanya, the fire burst into cheerful flame as Ash knelt beside the hearth. He pressed one large hand to the first kettle, and the water began to steam. In moments, he'd filled a silver basin and brought it to Sachi.

"I know what I need to do," she repeated as she dipped the edge of a cloth into the water, then washed the blood from Zanya's cheek. "It's not much, but I can take care of you."

Zanya's eyes drifted shut. She stiffened when Ash stepped up behind her, but when he only reached for the buckles on her armor, she swallowed hard. "At least let me clean the armor."

The guilt in her voice made Sachi's chest ache. "Camlia will pout if we don't let her handle it, and you know it." She paused, dipping the cloth into the water to rinse it. "Tell me what happened out there?"

A shudder. Zanya flexed her fingers wide, then curled them into fists. "I let Velez goad me."

It was no less than Sachi had expected, but hearing her suspicions confirmed made her stomach twist painfully. "Oh, darling. No. You can't let them do that to you."

Ash's nimble fingers freed the final buckle, and Sachi leaned back to let him pull away Zanya's breastplate. The black, quilted gambeson vest she wore beneath hid the blood better, but there was still plenty of it. Too much. When Zanya opened her eyes, their dark-brown depths were almost swallowed by shadows—shadows and rage .

And so Sachi knew what her lover was going to say before Zanya parted her lips. "He threatened you."

"Of course he did. Velez was many unsavory things, but he wasn't stupid." And he'd dedicated years of his life to tormenting Zanya. Whether he had been drawn by the promise of lavish compensation, or whether he just liked it , Sachi didn't know. But a single word would have dragged Zanya back to all those dark places.

Sachi couldn't ask aloud, not with Ash hovering beside them, his own rage so carefully banked. But she could ask, after a fashion, so she tilted her head and caught Zanya's gaze, held it questioningly.

Zanya stared back for one heartbeat. Two. On the third she looked away, her voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. "He told me he'd never spent the gold he won that day. That he planned to stack it next to the gold he earned for taking your head."

Bastard.

Ash paused, the unlaced gambeson half off Zanya's shoulders. "What gold?"

"It's all in the past," Sachi deflected, pinning him with a sharp look. "Ancient history."

His jaw clenched, but he acknowledged her unspoken order with a tight nod before starting in on the buckles of Zanya's bracers. "The fight was chaotic," he offered quietly, making quick work of the right arm before switching to the left. "The villagers attacked the soldiers, and I lost control of the situation. Zanya shouldn't have been—"

"Don't," Zanya rasped hoarsely. "Don't make excuses for me. You left me unattended for the time it takes to brew a pot of tea, and I—" She choked, as if she didn't even want to describe what she'd done in front of Sachi. "I need to be better ."

"Well, you'll both have to forgive me, but I'm laying the blame where it belongs—squarely at Velez's boots. He spent his life putting violence into the world, and it finally came back to him." Sachi grasped Zanya's chin. "He got what he deserved. Say it."

Zanya swallowed hard. Tears glistened in her dark eyes, but the shadows swirled away. They were just brown now, beautiful and sad in the firelight. "He got what he deserved."

"That's right." While Ash knelt to remove Zanya's greaves and boots, Sachi finished cleaning her face. "There. Do you feel better now?"

Zanya exhaled with a shuddering laugh. "No. Maybe?" She swiped a hand over her eyes, dashing away tears. "There is one good thing about this, I suppose."

"What's that, my love?"

"Velez knew how to hurt me." She reached up to stroke Sachi's hair. "Most of the people who could have said that are dead. And now he's joined them."

Sachi quelled a shudder. "We won't be running from that place forever. I promise, Zanya."

She closed the distance between them, sealing the vow with a soft peck before seizing Zanya's mouth. In response, Zanya's possessive fingers plunged into Sachi's hair.

There was an edge of something desperate in her kiss, wild but also vulnerable, as if she were trying to center herself with the familiar comfort of Sachi's lips. Sachi let her take control of the kiss and rubbed her hands soothingly up and down Zanya's arms.

For a moment, it seemed like it was working. Zanya tightened her grip in Sachi's hair with a throaty moan and backed up a step, bringing Sachi with her. But with the next step, Zanya collided with the wall of Ash's chest. His large hands covered Sachi's, steadying them both.

And Zanya vanished in a swirl of shadows, leaving Sachi stumbling into Ash's arms.

Not again.

Ash sighed softly and rested his chin on the top of her head. "I shouldn't have startled her."

"It's not your fault." Zanya had been accidentally taking to the shadows often since her manifestation, and it was always worse when she was upset. "On a night like tonight? I should have expected it."

"Maybe I shouldn't have taken her with us." Ash pulled back and tucked a disheveled strand of Sachi's hair behind her ear. "Too many people from that cursed palace hurt both of you. Neither of you have had time to deal with the pain of it."

"We'll manage," she whispered. "But what about you? You must have been frightened when Zanya—when she—" The words choked off as a sob welled in Sachi's throat.

"Shh. Shh, Sachi. You were threatened, and she acted on instinct. An instinct I understand all too well." He tugged her close again, running a soothing hand over her hair and down her back. His lips were warm against her temple. "I've had over three thousand years to learn patience and control. She's had a bare handful of weeks. She will learn."

Ash wouldn't let anything happen to Zanya. Sachi knew that, but it was scant comfort when she was left at home, alone with her ignorance and Ambrial's stories. "It's the not being there, Ash. Not knowing what you two have faced or how you are until you return. It's killing me."

"I know." He stroked her hair again. "You've been so understanding, to stay here. I promise it won't be forever. Just until—"

A clatter sounded from the bathing chamber, accompanied by muttered curses. Zanya stalked out, barefoot and flushed with embarrassment. She shoved her windswept hair back from her face and met Sachi's eyes reluctantly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

Sachi cut off the apology with a shake of her head and a gentle smile. "Where did you go this time?"

"Our cave by the capital." Zanya looked down at her dark pants. The cuffs were damp and smelled of seawater. "The tide was in."

"We'll go back for a proper visit soon, I promise." She held out her hand and waited for Zanya to take it. "Now, I'll run you a bath, and then we'll go to bed. You need the rest—both of you."

Ash brushed a kiss to her cheek, his smile the gentle one that only she got to see. "As my consort commands."

Sachi went about her task, mulling over her vision from the gardens. It had felt real, but how was she to truly know? She supposed she could press Ash for details to confirm, but she hated to do it, even at the best of times. The wounds he had incurred during the War of the Gods were as fresh now as they ever had been. She didn't want to hurt him over what could very well have been a simple flight of fancy.

And tonight, after all that had happened? She could never do that to him.

No, she would find out on her own. Perhaps she'd ask Camlia if any portraits of the Betrayer existed within the keep. That way, at least Sachi would know that her vision of the past had been a true one, and not something her mind had conjured.

As for the fact that the suspected Betrayer had seemed to see her, speak to her? That, she would take to Ash and the rest of his court ... but only once she knew for certain.

For now, she had her lovers home and safe, and that was what truly mattered.