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  He lifted the bowl containing his preparation high, then smeared some of it across the mouth of each carved figure.

  He pivoted with an abruptness that took Kira’s breath away. His eyes were closed, but he walked straight toward her. Kira panicked. She struggled and twisted, desperately trying to loosen the rope, but it remained resolutely knotted around her wrists as though ’twere charmed. He dipped his fingers into the lumpy mixture when he stopped beside her, and the smell was fit to make Kira retch. She jerked her head away when ’twas evident he intended to feed her the mixture.

  Undeterred and without opening his eyes, he cast aside the bowl with a flick of his wrist. He grasped the back of her neck with one mercilessly strong hand without dropping any of the mixture from the other. He squeezed her throat, his other hand held before her stubbornly-locked lips. Kira made an unwilling sound of protest.

  The man’s eyes flew open abruptly. His gaze bored into hers and Kira could not look away. His gaze was penetrating, as if he read her very thoughts or peered into her soul. She felt a sudden conviction that he was not of this world.

  Open your mouth.

  Kira heard the command echo in her thoughts, though she knew the man had uttered not a sound. The candles sputtered, and fragrant smoke wended its way toward the ceiling as the carved deities seemed to watch avidly. Kira shook her head mutely, already feeling the man’s will wind its way into her thinking.

  His eyes widened and he leaned closer. His fingertips, covered with the foul-smelling concoction, touched her lips. Kira shuddered from head to toe and, against the silent protest of every fiber of her being, slowly opened her mouth.

  The last thing she felt was the mealy texture of the substance forced into her mouth. Kira felt it slip down her throat, slithering like it had a will of its own—then her surroundings faded away.

  The women were not at the river when Thierry and his men returned.

  For a moment, Thierry feared the woman had come to some harm and his heart skipped a beat before he chided his own foolishness.

  “Woho!” Nogai taunted. “Perhaps she had a better offer this night than yours!”

  Thierry fired an annoyed glance at his companion but Nogai only winked.

  “I expect she is with the old one,” Thierry said.

  Nogai laughed, which did nothing to improve Thierry’s temper. “That an old woman makes a better offer says little of your persuasive skills, my friend,” he teased.

  Thierry felt his ears redden and his irritation grew. “I told you that she would surrender only the pearl,” he growled, wishing he knew the source of his annoyance. ’Twas not a concern that she had not remained where he had left her. None of the women were there. Certainly, there was no reason for that twinge of disappointment he had felt when he had confronted the empty river.

  He knew for a fact that there could have been no anticipation lightening his heart on their return to camp this night, especially after the complete lack of a battle this day.

  He was exhausted from a fruitless day’s ride in pursuit of men who were not there. ’Twas no more than that making him leap to conclusions. The sun was sinking low and ’twas not unreasonable that the women had ceased their labor for the day. ’Twas not unreasonable that he wanted only his yurt and some quiet.

  But before he could retire, he would have to fetch his captive from the old woman.

  “Abaqa will be awaiting our report,” he reminded Nogai, not missing the way his anda’s brows rose.

  “Perhaps he has had some tidings that will explain Berke’s absense,” Nogai agreed.

  Thierry almost thought the other matter closed until the two dismounted and matched steps.

  “And of course, the more haste we make to report to Abaqa, the sooner you might retrieve your fetching baggage,” Nogai whispered, his tone mischievous.

  “Clearly you have forgotten that she is a witch,” Thierry snapped.

  “Me? Nay, I have not forgotten,” Nogai replied. “But I was not the one so anxious to hasten back to camp.”

  Thierry slanted Nogai a hostile glance and earned a merry grin.

  “I shall ensure the khan is quick,” Nogai assured him.

  Thierry stifled a healthy urge to kick his friend and strode to Abaqa’s yurt in poor temper. ’Twas that he would have no peace until the woman was gone. Indeed, he hoped she had passed the cursed pearl this very day, that he might send her home. The thought sent a curious pang through him, one that prompted yet another unwelcome recollection of Khanbaliq. He gritted his teeth and told himself that Abaqa’s distrust was wearing down his resolve.

  The sooner the woman was gone, the better.

  The keshik guards at the khan’s yurt stood aside when Thierry approached, Nogai fast behind him.

  Abaqa glanced up and grinned. “You had little chance to prove yourself this day,” he commented, clearly in a jovial mood. To Thierry’s relief, the shaman was nowhere in sight.

  “What happened?” Thierry demanded.

  “Have you not heard yet?” Abaqa’s brows rose. “Berke died yesterday.”

  Thierry’s heart leaped in his astonishment. “Of what did he die?”

  Abaqa snorted. “Avarice,” he retorted sharply. “Perhaps ambition beyond his station.” He traced the design on his chair with one fingertip before glancing up quickly. “’Tis poor judgment to covet something that is mine,” he said, his voice low with threat.

  Thierry felt chilled by the khan’s expression but refused to let Abaqa see that his barb had struck home.

  “What did he covet of yours?” he asked instead. He knew the answer but had been unable to think of another alternative quickly enough.

  Abaqa shook his head. “My territories,” he said. He glanced away and his lips thinned dangerously. “My armies, my gold, my wives. He coveted all that is mine. Why else would he have invaded this territory as soon as my father died?”

  “I suspected as much but did not know for certain,” Thierry said.

  Abaqa looked him over, then snorted again. “You should understand the heart of the matter better than most,” he said. His voice dropped low as he held Thierry’s gaze. “’Tis not healthy for a man to crave what is mine.”

  “Who succeeds Berke?” Thierry dared to ask.

  Abaqa shook his head. “Why am I not surprised that you, of all men, would ask that question?” he mused. He tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair and regarded Thierry for a long moment before shaking his head, as if to clear it. “I do not know. There is no clear successor.”

  “Then that is why they left the field,” Nogai guessed.

  Abaqa flicked a glance at Thierry’s companion. “I would expect as much,” he agreed quietly. “Undoubtedly, they have returned north to burn their Khan in a fitting manner. For the time being, it would seem there is no threat to me.” Abaqa’s gaze returned to Thierry and he raised one brow. “At least, not from outside the tribe,” he added.

  With that, the khan snapped his fingers and summoned a drink for himself, effectively dismissing the two warriors from his company.

  An enraged roar woke Kira abruptly from her slumber.

  Her father had discovered her crime. She cringed in anticipation of the lash’s bite, and when none came, dared to take a breath. Kira opened her eyes with difficulty. They seemed to be weighted with lead, but she fought to force them open. She found herself huddled on the damp ground in a white tent, her wrists still bound to the tent pole. Recollection came flooding back.

  She struggled to sit up as the roar erupted again. Kira cringed at the proximity of the sound and she surveyed the tent.

  The man in white stood before her warrior, his manner calm as he gestured toward her. The warrior was markedly less calm. Kira could virtually feel the heat of the anger emanating from him. His eyes glittered and his jaw was set. His companion with the goatee lounged in the opening to the outside. Kira met his gaze and he winked broadly. Her gaze danced back to the warrior.

  What had angered him?
And what price would his fury bear? This was so similar to her father’s frequent tempers that she could only fear for the worst. Would he beat her? Rape her? The fog in her thoughts was of no assistance, for it seemed she could barely put two thoughts in order. Curse the white one and his foul mixture!

  Should she surrender the pearl or was it already too late to save her own hide? She struggled against her bonds, able to think of nothing but escape. To her dismay, her body did not readily follow her bidding and her efforts were even more futile than before.

  Her warrior barked a short question and the man in white shrugged. The warrior looked fit to explode when he jabbed one finger at the other man, his tight words evidently a threat of some kind. The white-robed man drew himself up taller at the apparent insult, but the warrior had already turned away.

  To Kira’s chagrin, the warrior turned his attention on her. She scurried backward but could not move far because of her bindings. She was incapable of hiding her fear, with her body fighting every move and the warrior’s anger clearly beyond anything her father had ever let her witness.

  He squatted purposefully beside Kira. She cringed and his scowl deepened with displeasure as he untied her wrists. Fearing his anger was directed at her, Kira shrank away, only to have him glance at her with what seemed to be surprise. He touched the chafe marks on her skin with one gentle fingertip. She shivered, not knowing what to expect, certainly not expecting to look up and find his brow furrowed with what might have been concern.

  Not here. Not from this man. He cared only that she live long enough to return his property. Kira’s heart skipped unsteadily, then lurched when he folded one heavy hand around hers. He could not be protective of her, could he? That increasingly familiar tingle of awareness launched over her flesh. The warrior snarled something at the man in white. That man shrugged indifference and the warrior’s lips thinned.

  He grasped Kira’s elbows when she might have pulled away again, confusion puckering his brow when she gasped in response. He stood slowly and virtually lifted her to her feet, arching one brow in silent query. Kira nodded hastily, wanting no more than to be free of his unsettling touch.

  When he released his grip on her, no one was more surprised than Kira that her knees gave out beneath her. She gave a little cry as she crumpled toward the ground again and heard the white one’s knowing chuckle.

  The warrior swore and scooped her up before she collapsed. The tent danced around them and Kira closed her eyes weakly, despising the single tear that crept out from between her lashes.

  Weakness. How she hated weakness. Especially in herself.

  The warrior said something and the white one answered with apparent reluctance. Kira kept her eyes tightly closed as the warrior carried her outside, the motion of his step making her stomach roll. She leaned closer to his warmth despite herself and found his heartbeat beneath her fingertips. Its echo was curiously reassuring and she dared to release the breath she had been holding and relax ever so slightly against him.

  Just for a moment. Until she could be strong again.

  She was safe, Kira thought, feeling the fog in her mind advancing once again.

  Safe? What whimsy was this?

  But her doubt could not dispel her impression while she was in this state of weakness. Indeed, her fingers spread across the warrior’s chest, its steady beat reassuring beneath her palm.

  It defied belief and challenged expectation, but Kira believed that she was safe when she was with him.

  For the moment, she could not question that. She could only curl against his warmth, welcome her conviction, and sleep.

  Chapter 5

  When Kira awakened in the familiarity of the warrior’s tent, ’twas nearly dark. She rolled over and her breath caught in her throat when she found him watching her silently. Their gazes locked but he did not move. She had the impression he was waiting for her to collect her thoughts.

  It had been disconcerting to realize the magnitude of her relief as the sight of this stern warrior in the white tent. The man had done little to endear himself to her, though she had to admit that he had not been as cruel as she had anticipated.

  At least, not as yet. Did he mean to gain her trust before abusing her? ’Twould be heinous.

  Kira had to admit that she could not have imagined that her maidenhead would be intact after an entire night in the Mongol camp.

  Perhaps he was not so wicked as she had feared.

  He rose abruptly to his feet and closed the distance between them. When he bent over her, Kira refused to show her trepidation. Her mind was clearer for the sleep and she boldly held his gaze.

  Had she not known better, she might have thought that he smothered a smile at that.

  He urged Kira to her feet and her guts writhed. She gasped and he seemed to understand, for he hastened her immediately outside and toward the latrine pits.

  Something had changed. Though Kira knew that she had never been so thoroughly voided in her life as in this camp, the warrior demanded nothing of her when she had finished at the pits. To her astonishment, he led her in the opposite direction to that of his tent. His silence seemed ominous and Kira could not help but speculate whether she had been grateful too soon.

  Perhaps the time of her reckoning had come.

  He led her away from the camp. Kira hoped they made but a roundabout return, but when they stepped outside a cluster of tents, her heart began to pound. His pace continued into the open fields on the far side of the camp and Kira knew she would not stride away from this place. There were only the grasses weaving in the wind to stand witness and her heart almost ceased to beat when he stopped abruptly.

  Was it here he intended to take her? Or did he mean to retrieve the gem with his knife? The grass rippled around them and the uncanny silence of the plain filled Kira’s ears. Indeed, no one would hear her scream in these remote pastures. Her heart raced at the realization, for ’twas quickly followed by the certainty that there was nothing she could do about it. He was larger than her, stronger, undoubtedly more cruel. She could fight, but the battle would not last long.

  She could not take a deep breath and Kira feared she might faint. She felt the utter stillness of her companion and dreaded his intent before he raised his fingers to his lips and let out a long, low whistle.

  Then he stood perfectly still, waiting it seemed, his grip relentless on her arm. Kira scanned the horizon in confusion, fancying she heard a faint sound stirring above the silence. The warrior squeezed her arm once and lifted a heavy finger to point into the middle distance, never uttering a word. Kira suddenly saw the dark shapes approaching.

  What was this? He needed beasts for his diabolical plan? She could not even imagine what wickedness he planned to wreak upon her.

  Four horses became discernible as they drew closer, their manes blowing loose, their hoofbeats becoming more and more distinct. Kira glanced up and fancied that the warrior’s features softened as he watched the creatures run. She could not be sure and looked back to the beasts in confusion.

  They ran directly toward them. Kira was certain they meant to run right over them. There was a death she would expect to be painful, though it made no sense that the man beside her held his ground. When the creatures bore down upon them and Kira thought she could see their eyes, she bolted.

  The warrior tightened his grip on her arm before she could take a second step. It seemed he had anticipated her move, but Kira could not summon surprise.

  The horses whinnied and she covered her ears with her hands, knowing they were too close to turn aside. Kira cringed and turned toward the warrior, his grip on her arm allowing her precious little movement, indeed. Her heart pounded and she cowered against him, but the horses did veer away in the last moment.

  Kira glanced up in surprise. Her fear transformed to delight when the horses cantered around them in an ever-tightening circle to slow their pace. He had summoned them. And they had come. Kira looked at her warrior with newfound respect. She had never
known anyone who had a way with beasts. The creatures walked the last few paces between them, one nuzzling the warrior’s other hand with its nose.

  They had not been trampled to death. Kira watched in amazement as the warrior scratched the beast behind its ears with what might have been affection. When the one with cream markings on its brown coat nudged its nose against her knee, she dared to stretch out a hand and mimic the warrior’s gesture.

  To her surprise the wild creature tolerated her tentative caress. Its coat was thicker and softer than she might have anticipated and Kira reached to touch the furry curve of its ear. The horse abruptly snorted and proudly tossed its head, backing away to fix her with an assessing eye.

  She feared it would run away and the warrior would be angry with her, but the horse stood his ground and regarded her. Kira remained as still as she could, sensing this was part of the warrior’s strategy with the creatures. She barely dared to breathe as the beast studied her.

  A long moment later, the horse stepped toward her again. It ducked its muzzle under her hand demandingly this time and Kira could not help but smile.

  It liked her. She rubbed its ears, daring to press her fingers a little more firmly into the fur, and the horse leaned into her caress.

  The warrior released her elbow abruptly, moving with a speed that startled her. In the blink of an eye he had cast a harness over the head of the horse before her. The creature tossed its head indignantly and pranced for a few paces. Her warrior did not relinquish his grip on the reins and the horse soon settled.

  Could it be that the horse had been harnessed before? Kira could not imagine that a wild creature would take so readily to the restraint otherwise. But she had no time to reflect upon the matter. Suddenly the warrior dropped the reins to the ground and stepped on them, simultaneously gripping her waist and lifting her. Kira panicked.