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  Crystal Moon

  ***

  Elysa Hendricks

  She was his dead brother’s lover and murderer, so how

  could she affect him like this?

  When he reached down for the woman, Kyne had braced

  himself, but unlike when he touched her before, this time he

  sensed nothing. Her fingers felt cool and fragile in his grip.

  The heat of her at his back distracted him from any other

  thoughts. Through his heavy cape he felt her every movement—

  the shift of her hips as she eased the strain of riding, the turn of

  her head, the press of her soft breasts, the brush of her slippered

  feet against his calves, and the feel of her small hands on his

  waist. Her sweet, feminine scent drifted under his nose. His

  body reacted, tightening in spite of his mind’s objections. Disgust

  that he should desire this woman pooled on his tongue.

  She shivered.

  “Are you cold?” How could she be? Self-loathing made

  him hot despite the crisp mountain air.

  “No. But I am hungry. You did not allow me time for first

  meal. Is starvation to be the punishment for my alleged crimes?”

  As if in emphasis, her stomach rumbled.

  Kyne restrained his smile at her tart words. “Reach into

  my pack, and you’ll find a bag of dried fruit and a skin of watered

  wine. Calm yourself. Until you are judged, you’ll not be

  mistreated.”

  She squirmed behind him as she hunted through his pack.

  Her shoulder bumped his hip and her voice was muffled as she

  answered. “Is that supposed to reassure me? Already I’ve been

  abducted, dragged from the threshold of my bed chamber in

  my nightwear, carted through the rain, terrorized and bruised,

  accused of foul deeds and threatened with horrible retribution.

  But I’m not supposed to worry because I’m safe until you see

  fit to be my judge and pronounce sentence on me?” She

  straightened and spoke her last words directly into his ear.

  “Forgive me if I prefer to remain agitated.”

  To Vern,

  Always and forever my hero.

  Other Books by Elysa Hendricks

  Gemini Moon

  Crystal Moon

  ***

  Elysa Hendricks

  CRYSTAL MOON

  One

  At the edge of her bedroom terrace, Sianna lifted her gaze

  and breathed in the peace and solitude of the night. Above,

  Tareth’s twin moons dominated the night sky. While Kala’s

  light bathed the garden in a white-gold glow, Dema remained a

  translucent shadow—a crystal moon—a wishing moon.

  “I wish my father would love me.” The night swallowed

  her whisper but made no promises.

  From behind, without a sound of warning, a strong arm

  wrapped around her waist. The sharp, cold edge of a crystal

  blade pricked her neck.

  “Scream and I’ll cut your throat,” a woman’s voice rasped.

  Sianna froze. “What do you want? Who are you?”

  “Silence,” the woman hissed. “Don’t fight me, she-hound,

  and you might live to see another sunrise.”

  The woman’s whisper stirred the fine hairs at the nape of

  Sianna’s neck. She shivered at the contempt and hatred in those

  softly spoken words.

  “Do you understand?” The woman’s arm tightened around

  Sianna’s waist.

  The crystal blade moved a hair. A pinprick of pain, then

  warmth trickled down Sianna’s throat.

  She swallowed and gave a brief nod. Through her thin

  nightdress and robe she could feel the heat and strength of her

  captor. Shock held her motionless.

  What choice did she have? Scream, and the guards would

  come in moments. Could they halt the slice of the blade? Sianna

  doubted it. Or would she allow herself to be abducted? A quick

  death or the unknown?

  Closing her eyes, Sianna reached out empathetically toward

  the woman. Like others read words on a page, Sianna read

  people’s emotions.

  The woman’s gut-wrenching ache of loss left Sianna

  breathless. As always, she responded to the anguish with an

  urge to soothe and heal. Her deep sense of empathy and the

  healing skills she learned from the Sisters of Light, enabled her

  to ease not only physical suffering, but emotional torment as

  well. “Do you seek my help with your pain? If so, there is no

  need for force. I’ll give it willingly. I am a trained healer.”

  “Be quiet, or you’ll soon learn what pain is.” Her captor

  shoved a gag into Sianna’s mouth, yanked her hands behind her

  back, and lashed them together.

  The choice was no longer hers to make. The force of the

  woman’s shoulder in her middle knocked the air from her lungs,

  but fear left her stunned. The woman threw Sianna over her

  shoulder and strode off the terrace. Blood rushed to Sianna’s

  head.

  In Kala’s fullness, Sianna had prayed for release from her

  father’s control, to be free of his plans for her. She feared this

  might be her answer.

  She lifted her head, and her view of the garden dissolved

  into the night, replaced by the thick forest of the surrounding

  countryside. Even the faint light spilling from the open door to

  her room disappeared. Branches scraped her arms and legs

  and snatched painfully at her hair as her captor carried Sianna

  through the foliage.

  Her limbs grew numb from the lack of circulation. Dizzy,

  she struggled to remain calm, to think rationally. All she could

  manage was to breathe.

  Sianna realized the hatred radiating off the woman in searing

  waves was directed solely at her. Panic threatened to engulf

  her.

  In a small clearing, the woman stopped and stood Sianna

  on her feet. A saddled quinar waited. The dark, shaggy beast

  stomped his hooves against the ground and shook his massive

  head at their approach.

  Sianna bolted, but took barely three trembling steps before

  the woman snagged her arm and yanked her back. “Try to

  escape again, and I’ll fix it so you’ll never walk again.” Her

  captor flashed a knife in front of Sianna’s eyes. “Do you

  understand?”

  Mesmerized by the glint of moonlight on the blade, Sianna

  nodded.

  The woman mounted the quinar and hoisted Sianna up in

  front of her.

  Responding to an unspoken command, the quinar sprang

  forward. With powerful strides, the animal carried them rapidly

  away from Sianna’s father’s compound and safety. The ground

  became a blur. Trees whipped past. Hands bound at her back,

  she closed her eyes and prayed for deliverance.

  Much later the woman slowed the blowing quinar to a more

  sedate pace. The quinar ’s muscles quivered, its sweat

  dampening Sianna’s bare legs. She read his sim
ple emotions

  easily. If the woman asked, the beast would run until its heart

  burst, such was its love and devotion for this woman. That her

  captor inspired loyalty in the animal gave Sianna hope.

  Above, clouds gathered, obscuring the moons. A cold rain

  began, quickly soaking through her robe and nightdress. Only

  her inner thighs, pressed to the quinar’s coarse fur, and her

  back to the woman’s chest, remained warm. She shivered, her

  teeth biting convulsively at the gag in her mouth.

  Her captor seemed oblivious to the downpour and the cold.

  The intensity of the silence frightened Sianna more than the

  threats or the crystal blade. Pain, fear and exhaustion had her

  sagging against her captor, grateful for the meager warmth the

  woman’s body provided.

  Questions flickered through Sianna’s mind. Why had she

  been abducted? Where did they travel? What would be her

  fate when they arrived?

  Only her captor knew. Even if Sianna could pose the

  questions, she doubted the woman would give her answers. A

  shudder racked Sianna. She pushed uselessly at the gag clogging

  her mouth. Lulled by the sway of the quinar, she thought of the

  changes recently wrought in her life.

  For all her eighteen years, Sianna had lived with the gentle

  Sisters of Light, hidden away by a father who appeared to

  have forgotten her existence. Under their care she grew and

  learned their healing arts. Long ago, she gave up hope her father

  would call her home, that she would have a family beyond the

  sisterhood. She loved the sisters and her work but longed to

  see the outside world. Sometimes the constant peace and

  serenity wore on her. Though necessary for healing, the

  atmosphere often left her restless and unsatisfied.

  Then a tenday before, without warning her half-sister, Laila,

  arrived, saying their father wanted Sianna to return home. Laila

  stormed the peaceful enclave of the sisterhood as if conducting

  a war campaign. Her intrusion changed Sianna’s life. Before

  she could question or object, her meager belongings were packed,

  and she was on the road.

  Filled with hope and apprehension for the future, Sianna

  found comfort in Laila’s kindness. During the trip, she eased

  Sianna’s fears, protected her from the dangers of the trail and

  made her laugh. Hungry for a family of her own, Sianna quickly

  grew to love her brash warrior half-sister. Though Laila’s

  emotions were hidden from Sianna, she felt that Laila returned

  her affection.

  Home proved to be quite different from Sianna’s girlish

  daydreams. No loving arms enfolded her, no laughter, no

  warmth. Her father greeted her coolly, then avoided her

  company. When she tried to reach out to him, he shut himself

  behind mental walls she could not scale. She perceived a misery

  deep in his ka, but he rejected all her overtures.

  Once in their father’s castle, Laila shared her quarters with

  Sianna, but not her thoughts. She became distracted. Shortly

  after their arrival, Laila left, and their father retreated to his

  rooms. No one would say where Laila had gone.

  Sianna’s intuition screamed a warning, but she could find

  no solid cause for her feelings of imminent tragedy.

  Then that morning, her father emerged from seclusion. At

  dinner he announced her coming marriage. Though shocked

  and terrified, Sianna, trained in respect and obedience by the

  good sisters, held back her instinctive denial of her father’s

  edict. Only later did she seek peace on her bedroom terrace.

  She had fled one trap and stepped into another.

  When the quinar came to a halt, the jolt stirred Sianna from

  her dazed state. The rain had stopped and dawn struggled to

  break the night’s hold, casting a gray light over the clearing

  ahead where a campfire gave off an enticing glow.

  Dressed in dark, coarse clothing, their hair long and unkempt,

  six men approached. An air of determination and menace

  surrounded them. Their hard, merciless stares struck terror into

  her heart. Sianna couldn’t stop her shudder of fear.

  An impenetrable wall of hatred blocked her tentative

  probing—hatred directed at her. Bile clogged her throat. She

  choked, her body convulsing.

  The woman ripped away the gag. Dry heaves racked Sianna

  as she gulped air.

  One man stepped forward and grabbed the quinar’s bridle.

  “You are a fool, Katya!” Ire warred with concern in the man’s

  voice. “Were you followed?” He reached up. His large, battle-

  scarred hands closed around Katya’s waist and lifted her down

  from the quinar.

  Katya stood toe-to-toe with the man. His massive body

  dwarfed her tall frame. “No, Graham, I was not followed. I

  doubt she has even yet been missed. DiSanti’s compound is in

  disarray, the watch lax, as if no one is in charge. The little fool

  walked in the garden without guards. Did they think we would

  not avenge Aubin?” Her voice broke on the last word.

  Graham’s gaze softened. “You are wet and cold. Come

  warm yourself by the fire. I will see to Deju.”

  To Sianna, the man’s strained, gravelly tones spoke of his

  regard for the woman.

  Katya nodded, either unaware or uncaring of the man’s

  love. She turned and grabbed Sianna, pulling her from the saddle.

  Cold and numb, Sianna’s legs buckled. Unable to catch

  herself with her bound arms, she landed face down. A twig

  tore her cheek. Warm blood oozed from the scratch. Tears

  sprang to her eyes.

  A booted foot prodded her side. She tried to curl into a ball,

  but her limbs no longer obeyed her mind’s command.

  “See to her as well. Kyne will want her alive.” Katya stalked

  toward the fire.

  The other men stood back, watching without sympathy.

  Sianna could feel their eyes on her.

  Inches from her face, the quinar’s large black hooves moved

  restlessly. She cringed as the big animal picked its way over

  her. A pair of boots appeared next to her nose, followed by a

  man’s knees. She turned her head and looked up. The man,

  Graham, leaned close. In his warm brown eyes she could read

  the struggle between loathing and pity.

  Grey liberally streaked the dark hair falling around a face

  weathered and lined with experience. Tall and broad shouldered,

  his musculature obvious despite the thick furs covering his frame,

  by any standard, Graham was a powerful man. His hands rested

  on his knees—hands that could easily break her neck, yet hands

  that she sensed could also be gentle. Compassion tempered

  this man’s great strength. His warmth of spirit called to her.

  Though barely old enough, Graham was the father Sianna

  always dreamed of, a haven of comfort and surety every child

  needs and craves.

  Tears of longing blurred his image. “Please,” she croaked.

  Warmth vanished from his expression. “Don’t think you

  can sway me with soft pleas. Did Aubin plead? I think not. If


  he had, would his cries have touched your heart? Do you even

  have one? No, do not beg for mercy when there is none in

  you.”

  “I don’t beg for mercy, only explanations. This Aubin you

  speak of is unknown to me.” Sianna forced the words past her

  dry throat.

  Graham’s eyes narrowed, turning cold and flat. “Lies will

  gain you nothing.”

  His words shattered Sianna’s hope. Still, his hands were

  gentle as he lifted and carried her to the fire.

  Heat from the crackling blaze stung her icy skin, forcing

  the blood to thaw and flow. The other men glared at her, and

  like a frigid rain their stares doused the warmth.

  She-hound! Whore! Demon spawn! The men’s unspoken

  river of scorn battered her.

  She fought against the current seeking to pull her into a pit

  of darkness. The riptide sucked at her, draining her strength,

  her will, eating away at her very soul.

  She searched deep within for the strength to cope with the

  harshness of the emotions her captors directed at her. Their

  loathing differed greatly from the gratitude and love she sensed

  from those she healed. How could she deal with their revulsion?

  In the beginning, surprise and disbelief that anyone could

  wish her harm paralyzed her. Now that her shock had worn

  off, she knew she must escape. If she didn’t act soon, it would

  be too late.

  ***

  “Kyne would nail my hide to the castle wall if you were

  injured.” Weary acceptance laced Graham’s grumbled

  complaints. “He set me to keep watch over you, and the minute

  I turn my back you run off and do something foolish. What do

  you think your fate would be in DiSanti’s hands?”

  Sianna heard no heat in his tone. She lay still, as yet too

  physically and emotionally drained to challenge her captors.

  Katya merely laughed without mirth. “You worry too much,

  old man.”

  Sianna felt Graham’s pang at the woman’s dismissive words.

  How could Katya not know of the man’s devotion? His love

  for this impetuous young woman rang in his voice and shone in

  his eyes.

  “Despite what Kyne may believe,” Katya continued, “he is

  not my father, only my brother. I have no need of a keeper. I

  can care for my own person.”

  “A keeper is just what you need. Kyne is your brother, but