Protector of the FlightROBIN D. OWENS 
PROTECTOR OF THE FLIGHT
 

www.LUNA-Books.com 
To My Critique Group,
a better bunch of writers I’ve never met.
Don’t think you’ll ever get rid of me,
because I can’t do this without you.
 
 
“Love is eternal—the aspect may change, but not the essence. There is the same 
difference in a person before and after he is in love as there is in an 
unlighted lamp and one that is burning. The lamp was there and was a good lamp, 
but now it is shedding light too, and that is its real function.”
—Vincent Van Gogh
Contents
Chapter 1 
Chapter 2 
Chapter 3 
Chapter 4 
Chapter 5 
Chapter 6 
Chapter 7 
Chapter 8 
Chapter 9 
Chapter 10 
Chapter 11 
Chapter 12 
Chapter 13 
Chapter 14 
Chapter 15 
Chapter 16 
Chapter 17 
Chapter 18 
Chapter 19 
Chapter 20 
Chapter 21 
Chapter 22 
Chapter 23 
Chapter 24 
Chapter 25 
Chapter 26 
Chapter 27 
Chapter 28 
Chapter 29 
Chapter 30 
Chapter 31 
Chapter 32 
Chapter 33 
Chapter 34 
Chapter 35 
Chapter 36 
Chapter 37 
Chapter 38 
Chapter 39 
Chapter 40 
Chapter 41 
Chapter 42 
Chapter 43 
Chapter 44 
Chapter 45 
Coming Next Month 
1 
Colorado Mountains
Summer, Morning 
S ince her fall in the National Finals Rodeo, pain had been a daily enemy. Calli 
Torcher hesitated at the top of the steep stairs from her attic bedroom to the 
first floor, took a breath, braced a hand against the wall and gritted her teeth 
at the prospect of pain. No matter how carefully she set her feet, she’d jar 
herself, then stop and pant through the agony. Or she might fall and end up in 
the hospital. Again.
Recovering from a broken pelvis took time. The bad dreams that peppered her 
sleep didn’t help matters. She’d dreamt of people lost in a winter blizzard. 
Cries for help. Short notes of doom from a clock gong or the ranch’s iron 
triangle or a siren…
She shook her head to clear her mind and concentrate on navigating the stairs. 
It happened the third stair from the top, just a tiny misstep and she was 
leaning against the wall, trying to shut out waves of agony. When she recovered, 
she went on and made it to the ground floor with no other problems.
As she rested against the wall at the bottom landing, she wondered if she should 
ask her dad if she could use the downstairs storeroom as a bedroom until she 
fully healed. But things hadn’t been right between her and her father for 
months, ever since she’d fallen and lost the barrel-racing championship, ending 
her career at twenty-five.
That was the past. She could—and would—still train horses, take a more active 
role in the ranch now that she wasn’t on the road all the time, traveling the 
rodeo circuit.
Her nose twitched at the smell of strong coffee and frying bacon. Dad was up and 
fixing his own breakfast. Since he’d started without her, she decided she’d get 
some air, clear the images and sounds of the dream—the string of bad dreams—from 
her head and replace them with the beauty of the Rocking Bar T Ranch in their 
mountain valley.
Calli limped to the corral, breathing deeply, feeling the tingle of the breeze 
on her face, the softness of worn flannel and denim from her shirt and jeans on 
her skin. The ball of the sun shot yellow streaks of light into the sky.
She reached the corral fence and leaned against it, breathing fast, still weak 
from her last surgery. Still, if she continued to work hard, in another few 
months she’d be able to start training horses.
No whicker of greeting came from her gelding. Calli whistled. Nothing. He always 
greeted her. A twinge of alarm ruptured her calm. “Spark! Spark, here!” She 
called as if her horse was a young, heedless colt.
Her dad strode up, a lean tough man with a weathered face and hard lines carved 
from the rigors of cattle ranching. He leaned on the fence to her right. “The 
gelding ain’t here.”
She looked at him from the corner of her eye. Bristly gray whiskers sprouted 
from his jaw. He could speak well if he wanted, if he respected the person he 
was talking to.
She wet her lips. “What do you mean, Spark isn’t here?”
His hat shadowed the eyes as blue as her own, but he squinted down at her all 
the same. Hard as the distant mountains. “He’s a highly trained rodeo horse, 
worth a lotta money. Couldn’t expect me to keep him ’round when you can’t ride 
him anymore and a profit can be made. Your last doctor’s appointment made me 
realize that.”
Calli pivoted so quickly it wrenched her hip. She ignored the pain in her body, 
so much less than the anguish in her heart. She spoke through the shock. “Spark 
is my horse. I gave you the money for him.”
Her dad shrugged. “I bought the gelding from the racetrack. The horse was 
registered in my name. I’m the owner of Rocking Bar T and everything on it.”
“Except for Spark. I paid for him,” Calli said through clenched teeth.
His stance was still casual. “Huh. My name is on the papers. And who paid for 
that horse’s keep when it was young? I did.”
Money wasn’t the issue. Love was. Giving and receiving love was everything. 
She’d needed something to love and return that love in her life. “How could you 
do this? I love him.”
He faced her now, as impassive as always, as if nothing touched him, not even a 
hint of irritation in his eyes. He looked her up and down as if judging a 
heifer, not as if he saw his daughter. “You should know better than that. Stupid 
to love an animal. Stupid to love at all. Love ain’t nothin’ that gets a return. 
A profit could be made, and Spark wasn’t no use to me. I sold him to Bill 
Morsey.”
Usefulness had always been Dad’s bottom line.
Her insides clenched, the pressure of hard tears backed behind her eyes. She 
couldn’t stop the question. “What about me? What about my usefulness?”
He grunted. “You can do your chores and stay. Do the cookin’ and cleanin.’ But I 
went to the bank. Since the ranch is paid for, I set up a reverse mortgage. The 
money’ll last long as I do, then you’ll have to find another place.”
Shock and nausea rolled through her. “I’d planned on training horses.”
“This is a cattle ranch.”
“We could build up a fine reputation—”
“No. We run cattle.”
She went to the bottom line. “You aren’t leaving the ranch to me?” Ever since 
she’d gone on the circuit, she’d always thought of the ranch as her future. 
Working hard, she’d sent money back for expenses. She’d thought she and her dad 
were partners.
His gaze fastened on her middle as if he could see her abdominal scars. “No 
reason to. Ain’t as if you can gimme a grandson, even.” Without another word he 
sauntered back to the house, leaving Calli’s world broken.
A noise tore from her, some animalistic cry of pain. Blindly she gripped the top 
fence rail, splinters lanced her hand.
All her life she’d shut out the knowledge of what her father was. Instead, she’d 
woven illusions that he cared about her. False, lying illusions that had been so 
comforting and that she’d held so long that she couldn’t see reality.
Her mother had abandoned them, then died. If her father had loved Calli before, 
he’d shut off his emotions afterward. As long as she proved useful, she was 
tolerated.
He might have enjoyed the reflected glory of her rodeo wins and liked the big 
bucks of the prizes. He’d taken care of her in the hospital and later when she 
was healing. But now that it was obvious she wouldn’t return to the rodeo she 
was nothing more than a woman to cook and clean.
She glanced around but refused to see past the surface beauty of the day. This 
place wasn’t her home anymore. She couldn’t afford the wrenching sense of loss.
Blood pounded in her ears and with it came the sounds of chimes and singing. 
Tinnitus, ringing in the ears, the doctors had said, and that it should go away 
soon. The illusory sounds might pass, but the very real loss of the ranch would 
always shadow her. More bad dreams.
Her white-knuckled hand on the wooden rail hurt from splinters, rough wood 
impressed hard on her palm, the ache of her stretched tendons. She let go.
She had to escape, allow emotions to surge through her—her grief for the loss of 
Spark, the destruction of her dreams. She’d plan later. This heartache she’d 
brought on herself for not letting herself see what the man who fathered her 
was—hard and bitter, guarding his heart from everyone, including her.
She limped, stumbled, caught herself, limped a few more steps—and found that she 
did so in rhythm to the reverberating rise and fall of melodic voices. Her foot 
brushed a fallen branch and she picked it up and used it as a walking staff.
By the time her eyes cleared from tears, she’d passed the edge of the ranch yard 
and was on her way to the sandstone rocks and the wide ledge on a hill that had 
always been her refuge. She needed air to breathe.
When she reached the ledge, her pelvis ached all the way up to her teeth. She 
hobbled past the huge sheered-off crystal face of the hill to solid rock and 
gingerly lowered herself to sit. She leaned against the hillside, her legs 
straight, and set the stick beside her. Then she wiped the sweat from her face, 
wrinkling her nose at the brown and red dirt smears on her bandana.
Her breath came fast with exertion. Her teeth hurt from gritting them when she’d 
negotiated her way up the rocky path. Up here, the wind blew and she heard a 
tinkle of chimes rushing around her.
She closed her eyes and whirls of bright colors streaked inside of her eyelids. 
The spots would fade as she rested.
Her heartbeat decreased to normal. Too much emotion and exertion in such a short 
amount of time had drained her.
Time seemed to slow until one moment was everything. The scent of rock and pine, 
the faint tumble of a distant stream, the cool wind, all etched on her memory.
She opened her lashes and looked out over the ranch, the kitchen gardens, the 
sprawling house, the land that stretched to the mountains, higher than this 
backyard hill. So beautiful. The stream was full—no drought this year.
For a while, Calli just sat and enjoyed the calm of her emotions. Too many 
problems had pressed down on her lately, flattening her spirits. For this one 
moment she could be quiet and enjoy life, let thoughts drift through her mind 
without jabbing at her heart.
Did she love the ranch?
No. It had always reflected what her dad wanted, not the kind of ranch she 
wanted, a horse ranch.
But she loved the land. And she loved the potential of a horse ranch. She wanted 
the land, wanted to shape that potential.
The rock was cold and hard against her back as her head throbbed with equally 
hard thoughts. She’d been a fool.
Well, that was the past. Maybe only the recent past, but time to wake up and fix 
her mistakes.
Spark was gone. Her heart twinged, jerking her body. She could barely stand that 
thought. Bill Morsey was a good horseman, and his daughter would be thrilled to 
have Spark. Calli’s lips turned down. Her father had probably done the best 
thing for Spark. The horse loved to run, delighted in an audience. Calli gulped 
and blew her nose on the corner of her bandana.
Now that she knew she’d have to fight Dad for her vision of the ranch, or walk 
away, she must make some decisions.
Should she fight for the land or get a check for her share and leave? She had a 
chance of winning—never Dad’s respect or love, she finally realized that, but 
she might be able to prove her contribution to the ranch, her vision was more 
profitable than his. In any event, she’d go to the bank and straighten them out 
about the equity she had in this place. She had records. There would be 
deposits, bills paid, after she’d sent money back, and everyone in town knew of 
her triumphs.
Fighting would take a lot of energy—physical and emotional, and that was a rare 
commodity for her during her recovery. And it would be bitter, turn her father 
against her forever.
But she loved the land and he already had no affection for her. How much did he 
love the ranch, the land? Would he hate her for fighting?
She didn’t think so. She loved. He didn’t.
He could take his share of the ranch money and walk away. It would be tough on 
her own at first, but she was confident she could make a name for the ranch, for 
herself, by horse training. She’d be well in a few months. Or after one more 
surgery.
Calli glanced at the smooth plane of crystal that was the face of the hillside 
beside her. Milky white with tints of green, the sheer face of the glassy rock 
stood taller and wider than herself. A small rim framed it, protecting it from 
the weather.
She hadn’t been able to look at the faint image of herself in the crystal for a 
long time.
A while back, she’d done a little research and discovered it was a fine piece of 
microcline. Devil’s Hole wasn’t too far away, and it had had even bigger 
crystals.
When she’d first found the path and the crystal when she was six years old, 
she’d been a little afraid of it. The green had tinged into dark shadows inside 
that reminded her of the tiny, dark bedroom her mom had locked her in when she’d 
left the ranch as evening fell—walked away from the land and her husband and her 
daughter forever. A memory Calli suppressed as much as possible.
Years later, sunlight had danced on the face of the crystal and lit the angles 
deep inside. Then she pretended she saw a different world dimly through the 
crystal, a place with flying horses and those who rode them lifting flashing 
swords. Later still, she just saw herself in the shadows.
She’d faced disillusionment today, maybe it was time to face herself again—then 
she’d know she was strong and able to deal with the future on her own. She’d 
never ride the rodeo circuit again, but she’d come to terms with that. She’d 
never have her father’s love, and that left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Levering herself up the wall slowly, she rose from the ledge and balanced on the 
stick.
She stared into the crystal and the shadows beyond the smooth outside plane. Her 
image was wavery, her blond hair a shade of yellow on the milkiness. She made 
out the curve of breast and hip.
But besides herself, she once again saw an imaginary vision of otherwhere. This 
time a section of a great, circular stone wall, and flickers of colorfully robed 
figures. Once again the strange sounds the doctors had called tinnitus plagued 
her. Chimes. A gong. The chanting of many voices in words she couldn’t seem to 
grasp. Gregorian chants, maybe.
Bong! 
The sound came next to her ear, louder and more vibrant than ever. She pivoted, 
lost her balance and fell. Ah, shit, she was going to hit her head on the damn 
crystal.
But she fell through it, into a blank whiteness so pervasive she couldn’t tell 
if her eyes were open. She choked on a scream. All the emotions that had calmed 
as she sat on the ledge jammed into her. Fear. Despair. Most of all, a great 
longing for someone to love. Someone to love her back. A partner.
It lasted instants. It lasted an eternity. Then bright colors whirled in her 
sight—patterns, stained glass! She glimpsed pillars around the curved walls of a 
circular room, and rafters with huge crystal ends.
Pain shot up her hip, stealing breath. Calli didn’t believe this. Her throat 
closed with fear. She must have hit her head on the rock and was dreaming. She 
rubbed her head, but didn’t feel any bumps. Dazed, she examined her 
surroundings. A big round stone room with an altar and colored goblets. A gong. 
A circle of people.
Calli sucked in air. It didn’t smell anything like a hill in Colorado. It 
smelled like incense in a church. She gulped and shivering seized her.
A small woman with white hair and a young face, green eyes and a long scar along 
her cheek caught Calli’s attention. The lady wore a long velvet robe with silver 
threaded designs. “Hi, I’m Alexa Fitzwalter. Welcome to Lladrana,” she said.
This couldn’t be happening! But she wouldn’t take it lying down. When Calli 
awkwardly sat up, pain lancing low in her torso, the singing stopped.
Alexa stepped forward into the center of the star, compassion in her eyes. “It’s 
a rough trip.” She held out her hands.
Calli stared at her, touched her fingers. They felt solid and warm! Another 
moment passed and Calli realized that Alexa wouldn’t push. The dream woman was 
courteous. Alexa would let Calli make her own choices. A hard knot in her chest 
loosened, she was in charge of the dream. She put her hands in Alexa’s and was 
drawn to her feet with surprising ease and strength.
Alexa kept an arm around Calli as if to steady her and Calli was grateful for 
the physical and emotional support. Her gaze swept the circle of people, pausing 
at the men and women who were dressed more roughly than those in velvet robes.
When Alexa looked up at Calli, her expression was haunted. “We need you really, 
really bad.” Alexa licked her lips. “Do you know anything about horses?”
Clang! An alarm shrilled. Everyone in the room tensed.
Alexa cocked her head, her hands fisting. “We have no volarans,” her voice 
broke. “We can’t fly to battle.”
Stranger and stranger. Calli shot glances around the room, wanted to run, didn’t 
think she could hobble fast enough to escape…what?
“How good are you with horses?” Alexa demanded again, squeezing her arm.
Calli knew she flushed but shot up her chin. “Excellent. I’m an excellent horse 
trainer and one of the top barrel racers—”
People ran to the great door, flung it open, sending in bright summer-morning 
sunlight. A whir of wings rushed into the room.
Cheers rose outside. A young man shouted something.
“They came back,” Alexa whispered. Tears ran down her face. “The volarans have 
returned.” She looked up at Calli, sniffed. “I knew it was right to continue 
with the Summoning.”
Hooves hit the stone courtyard. The next moment people were spreading out in the 
room, making way for…for a winged horse.
Calli blinked. Blinked again. The pegasus didn’t vanish. In fact, more swept 
into the room. Ten. With dozens outside. Chestnuts, roans, piebalds, even a 
palomino or two. She caught her breath in sheer wonder and thought the top of 
her head would explode with this huge wave of horse-thoughts and horse-love 
radiating from them, inundating her.
A gray clopped up, stretched his wings, forcing people aside.
Her mind spun. Her mouth dropped open.
The stallion’s large dark gaze fixed on her. We love you. You are the Volaran 
Exotique. She heard the words in her head.
Then chimes clashed and she felt the sound storm through her, plucking at muscle 
and bone and nerve. She cried out, arching away from Alexa, escaping the woman’s 
grip. Reached for the winged horse, missed. Calli landed on the floor again on 
her butt and shrieked with the pain radiating through her pelvis.
Only agony existed. Everything else around her dimmed—she couldn’t see. Again 
and again the chimes rippled, but they sounded muffled as she grimly fought 
through the pain and hung on to the edge of consciousness.
Then someone struck the gong. Once. Twice.
She only heard a part of the third beat. Sweet darkness descended.
2 
“S he’s hurt!” Alexa Fitzwalter, once of Denver, now a Swordmarshall of 
Lladrana, whirled to face the Marshalls and Chevaliers.
Few were paying attention to her or the new Exotique. They were herding the 
newly arrived volarans out the door, the gray stallion grumbling, then taking 
off. People ran with unseemly haste to find their own winged companions.
The defection of the flying horses ten days ago had devastated the Chevaliers 
and Marshalls. A black pall of despair had filled the Castle. Calls to battle 
had been blessedly few—only three—but fighting without the flying horses was 
nearly impossible. Lladrana would be lost to the invading monsters without 
volarans. Dread had circled the Castle like a vulture.
They’d been desperate when they’d worked the ritual, praying the one they 
Summoned would somehow lure the volarans back.
A medica strode forward and crouched by the woman on the floor. Alexa turned 
back to watch the examination. She didn’t even know the woman’s name yet, but 
Alexa feared for her. She and the Marshalls had Summoned this woman from 
Colorado, away from Earth to this world, so Alexa was responsible for her until 
she made her own place on Lladrana. Biting her lip, Alexa shifted from foot to 
foot, grateful when her husband, Bastien, joined her.
He cocked his head, as if he listened to the mind-Song of a volaran—or many. His 
nostrils flared, then he grinned. He grabbed Alexa and spun her around and 
around, then placed her gently on her feet. Holding hands, they looked down 
where the medica sat next to the new Exotique, smoothing blond strands of hair 
away from a pale forehead.
“The volarans came back,” Bastien said. “For their Exotique.”
Alexa leaned against him in relief.
The medica said, “The Lady’s pelvis has recently been broken in three places.”
Alexa winced.
Glancing up at them, the medica said, “I suggest we all join together to do a 
healing spell.”
Alexa said, “I’ll call Marian, the Exotique Circlet Sorceress. She can help, 
too.” The community of Sorcerers had had Marian Summoned from Boulder, Colorado, 
just a few weeks ago.
“Good idea.” The medica hummed a slow lilting spellsong that settled the woman 
deeper into a healthful sleep.
 
Marrec watched as Lady Hallard closed the door of the healing room behind her, 
muting the continuous lilting of a healing Song. Hallard, the noble he swore 
loyalty to, ran her fingers through her hair.
He pushed from the wall where he’d stood, guarding the corridor for the last 
hour. “How’s it going?” he asked.
“Good,” Lady Hallard rasped. She rubbed her throat. “She might not be able to 
ride long hours horseback, but flying a volaran will be possible.”
“She’s the right one?”
Hallard shrugged. “Has to be, if you believe in the Song and the Marshalls’ 
Summoning.”
Amusement unfurled inside him, mixing with deep gratitude that his volaran had 
returned. He’d never prayed so hard as he had the last ten days, wanting Dark 
Lance back. Marrec was a poor man with only the one treasure—his volaran—to his 
name.
But he answered his liege-woman. “I don’t dare disbelieve in the Marshalls’ 
Power.”
She grunted, pulled out the gloves tucked in her belt and put them on. “Think 
I’ll take a late-afternoon ride—if my lady volaran will deign to do as I say.” 
There was irritation in Hallard’s tone. Like all the rest of them, they’d 
thought of the flying horses as their property. They’d never been so shocked in 
their lives as when the volarans—even those born and bred in noble stables—had 
all deserted to the wild herds and the legendary Volaran Valley. It had never 
happened before.
All the Chevaliers—and the Marshalls—would be uneasy for some time.
Looking at him from under lowered brows, Hallard said, “You’re one of those who 
can hear and talk with the volarans mentally, right?”
He kept an easy smile on his face, though all the muscles of his body had 
tensed. Now that their special gift was known, those like him could be either 
prized or destroyed by the rest of the Chevaliers, and everyone knew it. A 
delicate situation. A balancing act. He ducked his head. “Yes, my lady.”
“Huh. Your volaran say anything to you?”
“No.”
“I asked Bastien, he says they aren’t talkin’ to him, either. Says they want to 
talk to the new Exotique first.”
Marrec lifted and dropped a shoulder. “Bastien’s the best with the winged 
steeds.”
Without another word, the Lady strode away. Marrec exhaled a sigh and rubbed his 
forehead. Lady Hallard was rich, had six volarans and fifty Chevaliers who’d 
sworn fealty to her.
He had one volaran, Dark Lance, that he couldn’t even consider his anymore. He 
shuddered. He wasn’t getting any younger. Time to seriously think about making 
his fortune, taking risks on the battlefield for booty. He’d have to give the 
Lady thirty percent of what he earned, but somehow he must come up with a stake 
to buy a small parcel of land where he could retire and ranch. He didn’t want to 
spend his older days as a pensioner in Lady Hallard’s castle. If he lived that 
long.
The Chevaliers were hoping that the new Exotique would participate in a Choosing 
and Bonding ritual for a mate. Marrec hoped, too, that she might choose him.
Fast footsteps approached. Marrec moved to stand in front of the door, listening 
to the stride. A tall man, rich because he had good, hard leather for the heels 
and soles of his boots. Arrogant. Probably a nobleman.
Even before the man turned the corner so Marrec could see him, Marrec sensed it 
was Faucon Creusse. A nobleman with many Chevaliers, wealthier than most 
Marshalls, and nearly of equal status. Attractive to the ladies.
Faucon glanced at the door behind Marrec, probably didn’t even notice Marrec.
Faucon would want the woman. Marrec had heard that Faucon was one of those men 
who was innately drawn to Exotiques. Something in their mental Song or their 
strangeness or even their otherworldly scent, drew Faucon like light drew moths. 
He’d sniffed around Alexa until Bastien, and Bastien’s brother, Luthan, had 
interfered.
He’d met the Circlet Sorceress Marian and given her expensive gifts. Marrec had 
heard the nobleman had become close friends with the 
Lladranan-Who-Was-Now-Exotique, Marian’s brother, the Chevalier Koz who had a 
Lladranan body and Exotique mind.
The new female Exotique behind the door had been expressly Summoned for the 
Chevaliers, would bond better with the knights than any other segment of 
Lladranan society. All the more exciting for Faucon. Yes, he’d want her.
Any smart Chevalier would want a Powerful, rich, volaran-beloved woman.
Marrec wanted her, too.
Faucon’s expression was pleasant, but his body tense with need. His eyes burned. 
A smile formed on his lips, but he didn’t meet Marrec’s gaze. “Lady Hallard 
asked me to relieve you or join the healing circle.”
Marrec knew which one Faucon preferred, but the man was being courteous to him, 
lesser Chevalier, giving Marrec the choice. He didn’t particularly want to take 
part in the healing, his Power was only fair, but he wanted Faucon near the 
Exotique even less. The nobleman already had too many advantages and would no 
doubt charm the lady out of her senses…when she came to them.
“I’ll go in,” Marrec said. He opened the door and entered, shutting it behind 
him.
He’d never been in the Marshalls’ Healing Room before and hesitated on the 
threshold. For a stone room inside a stone tower in a stone Keep, it looked 
unexpectedly…soft. The curved room was paneled with wainscoting along the lower 
wall. Plaster above it was painted warm tones of some pinky-yellow-peach colors 
that seemed to shift in the light from the fat pillar candles of dark green and 
the sunlight. A row of pointed windows showed a summer-blue sky. The healing 
dais was set on richly layered rugs with long gold fringe. Atop the dais was a 
thick mattress, from the looks of it, made of pure down. The injured woman lay 
on her stomach, still fully dressed.
The rhythm of the chant did not break, though several gazes fixed on him. The 
circle was a mixture of Chevaliers and Marshalls—with two Circlets, mages of the 
highest degree—the Exotique Circlet Marian, who held the yellow-haired woman’s 
right hand, and her own husband, Jaquar.
Alexa was on the opposite side of the prone woman and held the new Exotique’s 
left hand and was linked to Bastien. Marrec could see the strong aura of Power 
rippling the air from the magical and prayerful Singing. He stiffened his spine. 
He didn’t care for linking with others, but he was needed. “I’ve come to replace 
Lady Hallard,” he said.
Two people raised their connected hands, indicating he should insert himself 
between them. Marrec sucked in a big breath. He’d be between the Circlet 
Sorcerer Jaquar and the leader of the Marshalls, Swordmarshall Thealia Germaine. 
The Power that cycled through the group was strong indeed. Flying out of his 
class. Too bad.
Moving as smoothly as he could, he walked around the foot of the dais and the 
people there, then stood in front of a plush chair and slowly insinuated himself 
into the circle, disturbing the flow of magic as little as possible. The medica 
at the foot of the table handled the uneven stream as he joined the group.
The force of Power rushed through him, the Singing whipping his blood, flooding 
his every cell, even as he passed most of it from Jaquar to Thealia, sending it 
around and on.
His hands heated to unbearable tenderness. He held on. The Power threatened to 
rock his balance. He hunkered down. His chest constricted. He opened his mouth 
to breathe and when he could, he added his voice to the Song.
It was an intricately layered Song, blended of voices from bass to soprano, 
harmonizing, hypnotic, healing. After a few minutes, Marrec became accustomed 
enough to the huge energy pouring through him to sink into the deep softness of 
the chair. He was aware of every nerve of his body, every pulse of his blood, 
every hair on his head—and some of those were turning silver with the Power he 
handled—making his own gift stronger, opening up rivers in his mind that had 
been trickles before.
Wondrous.
He wouldn’t walk away from this place the same man he’d been when he entered the 
door. The thought scared him, but he squeezed the fear into a tiny ball and hid 
it from the others.
His throat cleared, and he sent strength to his voice, to his words, full of 
Power. Gazes flew to him. He inclined his head. He knew he had a good voice, 
clear and true, he just hadn’t been able to use it fully until now.
A whispered murmur came to his mind. You add beauty and Power to our healing. 
Our thanks. Swordmarshall Thealia on his left dipped her head to him. The 
compliment surprised him, but he kept his Song steady.
Now that he was linked, he could see the green energy web they spun, blanketing 
it over the lady, subtly shifting it into her, healing as it went.
The lilting melody swept him along and now he felt the traces of the others—the 
steely bond between all the Marshalls at the table, forged time and time again 
as they linked during battle; the sizzling might of the Circlets, with hints of 
wind and wave and lightning—and an additional strange tang of other from Marian. 
Exotique.
Another taste of spice and blood and alien from Swordmarshall Alexa. Exotique.
And a fabulous, poignant sweetness that cycled several times before he realized 
where it originated. The lady on the mattress. Exotique.
She would never go unnoticed in Lladrana, this woman Summoned for the 
Chevaliers. Her hair was filaments of light, a color he’d never seen, never 
imagined. As golden as freshly minted jent coins. For long moments he stared at 
her hair, wondering at its fineness, pondering the texture.
Her face was turned toward him. Her skin was not as fair as Marian’s, slightly 
more tanned than Alexa’s. The woman worked outdoors, and for longer than Alexa 
had, but Alexa had come to Lladrana in the early spring and it was now late 
summer. Still, the new lady’s skin was not the color of a Lladranan’s and here 
and there he could see the interesting blueness of her veins.
Her brows were golden, too, her lashes a shade darker.
Her features were…not what he thought of noble. Surreptitiously, he studied 
Alexa and Marian. Of the three Exotiques, he’d have said that Marian looked the 
most “noble” with straight nose and comely eyes and lips, though her hair was 
that odd shade of dark red.
The light flickering on the golden hair caught him again, brought him back to 
the woman. Her energy was stronger now, more mixed with theirs. A new pitch had 
been added to the Song through her, vibrant, potent—pure, raw Power.
Marrec swallowed. All three of the ladies were Powerful, though their magic took 
different aspects, and the new one contained a greatness that matched the other 
two. She was for the Chevaliers, his portion of Lladranan society, the knights. 
He couldn’t see her in battle. He shook the thought away. Anticipating too much.
She whimpered. Marrec flinched. Thealia squeezed his fingers, reminding him to 
keep the Power flow even.
Their healing net had penetrated the woman’s body, was working on her broken 
bones. Marrec sensed this wasn’t the first time the procedure had been done in 
the hours since she’d arrived, but the fifth or sixth. Everyone had taken shifts 
of Singing except the Circlets and Alexa and Bastien, who had stayed the entire 
time. But then Bastien carried the wild magic of a black-and-white.
Marrec wasn’t tired at all, in fact he was still a little jittery from joining 
the circle, but he could tell others were at the last of their strength.
He glanced around, some looked worn and weary, gray-faced. Everyone here was of 
higher rank than he. It was not his place to tell them when to leave.
Projecting his voice, he added more Power so some could relax.
Eyes met his, and thanks were nodded.
As the Song swept him away, he studied the woman they healed again. A redness 
had come to her cheeks. He stared—of course Lladranans flushed, but it wasn’t 
nearly as noticeable as this. Her lips had parted and he saw even white teeth, 
but her mouth attracted his gaze. It was a deep pink. He’d never seen lips that 
color. A wash of heat slipped along his blood as he considered what the rest of 
her would look like.
Her breasts were flattened on the mattress, but they looked round and full. He 
eyed her butt and legs, muscular, like a rider’s would be.
He’d heard there were no volarans in the Exotique Land, but that there were 
horses. She had the tone of horsewoman.
A frisson of awareness raised the hair on the nape of his neck. He lifted his 
gaze from the woman to find four beady eyes fixed on him. Marrec tilted his chin 
at the two beings who hunched on either side of the injured woman’s head, still 
staring at him.
Then Marrec realized what they were—magical shape-shifting beings called 
fey-coo-cus. One had become Alexa’s companion after she arrived, the other had 
originally come from Exotique Terre with Marian. Today they appeared as 
foot-long rabbits, brown and white with dark patches over their eyes and noses 
as pink as the horsewoman’s lips.
They should have looked harmless, fluffy. They looked dangerous and threatening.
The door opened and several Chevaliers walked in, including Faucon and Lady 
Hallard.
“This is a good time to switch singers,” the medica rasped. “We have lowered the 
web through our patient and it is below her. We can swap people, then raise it 
one final time through her body. That should be enough.”
The rabbits turned their combined gazes to Faucon. He stopped under the weight 
of their scrutiny, then nodded. “Salutations, feycoocus.”
The magical beings twitched their ears, radiating welcome. Even they wanted 
Faucon for the woman. What chance did Marrec have?
3 
C alli woke to foreign singing. Muzzy-headed, she didn’t know where the sound 
came from, but it was a lot better than the chanting of her tinnitus. She felt 
good, except a little cramped, and her face was squashed into something so soft 
she had trouble breathing.
She stretched, long and slow. Her mind caught up with her body. No pain! She 
rolled over to her back, eyes wide open…
And saw a bunch of strangely dressed people standing around her whispering, and 
not in English. Her insides clutched and she was suddenly afraid to move. These 
folks were armed. Those who wore richly colored poncho-like robes had chain mail 
underneath and a sheath on each hip. The people in leathers had swords at their 
sides.
She gulped, realizing they looked a lot like the people she’d glimpsed in the 
crystal on the hill for years. Riding flying horses—like those winged horses 
who’d come to look at her, speak to her in her mind.
She remembered falling through the face of the hillside—how could she do 
that?—and…and…being greeted by someone.
Glancing around, she saw that same someone, a small woman with silver hair, 
smiling at her from the right side of her bed.
“Hi, welcome to Lladrana.” Her face clouded. “It would have been better if you’d 
told us you were hurt as soon as you came.”
“Urgh,” was all Calli could manage.
A woman’s laugh came. “Give her a break, Alexa. Don’t you remember how it was?”
Calli struggled to sit up, strong hands grasped her shoulders from behind and 
lifted her easily. She heard a tinkling song. She eyed the people around her. 
They were all tall and beautiful, with golden skin and dark hair and eyes, not 
quite Asian looking. Other.
“You’re not in Kansas—well, Colorado—anymore,” the other woman said.
Alexa chuckled and patted Calli’s hand. “You’re not in Oz, either. This is 
Lladrana, another dimension and I’m Alexa Fitzwalter.” She beamed.
Calli must be dreaming.
A tall, auburn-haired woman, plump and pretty, came to stand next to Alexa, the 
second woman who’d spoken in English. “Hi, I’m Marian Dumont, late of Boulder, 
now a Circlet of Lladrana.” She touched a golden band she wore around her 
forehead. The hammered design showed clouds and lightning.
Sticking out a hand, Alexa said, “I came from Denver in the spring. Pleased to 
meet you, Ms.—”
Letting her gaze roam, Calli figured out that the rest of the folks were 
watching intently and not talking because they didn’t understand English. She 
wondered what language they spoke. She looked at Alexa’s hand, put her own in it 
and received a surge of warmth that flooded her and left her fingers tingling. 
She licked her lips and tried her voice. “I’m Callista Torcher. Calli.”
The redhead jostled Alexa aside in a teasing manner and held out her hand. There 
was something about the gesture, maybe the way Alexa and Marian stood, that 
warned Calli that she was being tested somehow. Besides the incredible little 
surge of…something…she’d felt from Alexa, the smaller woman’s grip had been firm 
and strong, her hand callused.
Calli shivered and slid her fingers against Marian’s. This time she felt a heady 
zip that made her head buzz. She shook her head to clear it. Marian released her 
fingers and chuckled, a richer sound than Alexa’s.
Large hands squeezed her shoulders, making her aware of them once more. Man’s 
hands. Thumbs brushed her shoulder blades, then the hands vanished as a man to 
her left circled the bed she was on. He wore leathers the color of butterscotch 
that were obviously expensive. He made a flourishing bow to her. “Faucon 
Creusse,” he said, and she decided that was his name.
Never in her life had a guy bowed to Calli. She nodded at him, but too-handsome 
men made her a little wary. They usually had great expectations of a woman and 
didn’t return much. At least the rodeo cowboys she’d known tended to be that 
way.
“So, how much French do you know?” Alexa asked briskly, drawing Calli’s 
attention back to her right.
“Uh, none,” Calli said.
Marian nodded. “How good are you at languages?”
Calli shrugged. “Pretty fair. I have quite a bit of Spanish.”
Alexa made a face. “I’m terrible. I’ll have a bad accent for the rest of my 
life. I chose to stay here on Lladrana.”
Calli froze. She wasn’t ready to accept she was in a different place—who would? 
And if, by some impossible chance, she was somewhere else, she wasn’t ready to 
cope with that, either. The hurt of her father’s rejection still shadowed her 
heart, echoed in her mind.
An older lady spoke, and the language was French sounding, for sure. This woman 
wore tough, dark brown leathers. She walked up the right side of the bed to 
stand next to Alexa and did a half bow. “Nuaj Hallard,” the woman said.
Again Calli nodded. Who knew what they did as greeting here? From the long robe 
with no armor that Marian wore, they might even curtsey. Like bowing, curtseying 
had never been an item in Calli’s life.
“Lady Hallard’s right,” Alexa said. “Callista doesn’t need to know Lladranan to 
get a tour of the Castle.”
Lady? Castle? Uh-oh. Sure didn’t sound like Colorado.
With glee in her eyes, Alexa smiled at Calli, and Calli braced herself for a 
zinger. “How would you like to see the winged horses again?”
The flying steeds couldn’t be real, could they? She just stared at the grinning 
Alexa, the smiling Marian and the serious Lady Hallard. After a minute, Calli 
said, “Say again?”
“Winged horses,” Alexa said.
“Flying horses,” Marian said.
The words rang in Calli’s ears, but she could almost see a big question mark 
hovering above her head with the word duh?
“It’s true,” Alexa assured. “We have flying horses here, called volarans.”
“From the French word fly,” Marian said.
“Uh,” Calli said. She did want to see them again.
“So,” Alexa said, “do you want to humor our madness?”
Once more, Calli scanned the room full of men and women—some in robes and armor, 
some in leathers that looked to be for fighting. Caution, deep and strong, swept 
her. Weapons. Armor. These people were at war. If they were being nice to her, 
it was because they wanted something.
If they were really here at all and she wasn’t crumpled on the ledge of the 
hillside from cracking her head hard—having a dream more imaginative than ever 
before.
A man said something and Lady Hallard withdrew and Alexa and Marian stepped 
aside. Another guy, this one not as tall but more solid and with a gleam of 
devil-may-care that Calli knew all too well from her rodeo days, bowed in front 
of her and offered his arm. Alexa circled his other biceps with her fingers. “My 
husband, Bastien Vauxveau.”
He was married. Good. But to Alexa? She’d married a guy here? Then Calli noticed 
a strange thing. They both had a golden color pulsing around them, merging where 
they touched, sparkling with glitter. Wow. And they looked really good together. 
Happy.
A bolt of yearning for such love struck Calli so hard she nearly doubled over. 
She’d thought she and her dad were partners. She’d loved him, ignoring some of 
the offers for sex and a serious relationship with rodeo men. She’d had her 
plans to build up the Rocking Bar T to a fine horse-training ranch with Dad and 
when she was successful look around for a man.
All gone.
Bastien quirked a brow at her, wiggled his elbow. Alexa grinned. Yep, a happy 
couple. Partners. Calli turned wide eyes to Marian.
“Yes, I’m married, too. To a sexy Sorcerer. A Circlet like myself.” Marian 
answered Calli’s unspoken question.
Oh, wow. The back of her neck tingled. Slowly she turned her head to see Faucon 
Creusse smiling at her.
“He’s unmarried and available,” Alexa provided. “But we need to talk a little.”
“We need to talk a lot.” If she weren’t dreaming. From the corner of her eye, 
she saw a woman bobbing her head.
“She’s available and unpaired, too,” Marian said. “This culture has no bias 
against homosexuality. There are different levels of commitment, here, too.”
“I’m straight,” Calli said absently, doing another scan of the people in the 
room—different colored and worn leathers—some people wore bands around their 
arms. Did that mean anything? From the gazes she met, she thought about a third 
in the room were “available.”
“Marian’s right,” Alexa said. “She and her husband were married in a formal, 
long, magical ceremony that bound them together, hearts, minds and souls.”
“Not to mention bodies,” Marian murmured.
“Bastien and I haven’t done that yet. But we’re Paired. The guy, here—” Alexa 
poked him gently in the chest “—is commitment shy.” Bastien winced as if he got 
the gist of Alexa’s words. Calli didn’t doubt the statement.
“I see,” she lied, turning back to the women and Bastien. She looked at Marian, 
dressed in a long linen dress of beige with a deep over-robe of dark blue, 
remembering her words. “You’re a Circlet, a Sorceress?”
“Yes,” Marian said. “I’m only visiting the Marshalls’ Castle, to help in the 
healing spell and to aid you in adjusting to Lladrana. Alexa called me by 
crystal ball,” she ended blandly.
Calli let that one go. She stared at Alexa, who wore a blue-green robe over 
chain mail, had a sword at one hip and a short, cylindrical sheath at the 
other—and a nasty scar on her face. “You’re a…” Calli didn’t know what.
Alexa dipped her head. “I’m a Marshall.” She tapped the short sheath. “This is 
my Marshall’s baton.”
Calli vaguely remembered the words from long-ago history lessons, but the 
concept still eluded her. “And that means?”
“She’s the crème de la crème of magical warriors in this society,” Marian said.
So Alexa had landed on her feet. Calli wasn’t surprised. The woman had an air of 
complete competence about her. Calli gestured to Lady Hallard. “She doesn’t wear 
the same sort of clothes, so she’s a…”
“Very observant,” Marian said.
Calli didn’t think so. It was just natural curiosity.
“She’s a Chevalier,” Alexa said.
Now, that word Calli knew. “French for horseman.”
“Right,” Marian said. “In this instance it translates to ‘Knight,’ and in this 
culture, it means those who ride volarans or, if no volarans are around, horses. 
Lady Hallard is the leader of the Chevaliers, with men and women under her.” 
Marian gestured to a tall, lean man who wore the same yellow and green as the 
Lady. At Marian’s wave, he nodded, unsmiling, to them.
Again a tinge of wariness slithered up Calli’s spine. Warriors. Knights. She 
sensed there was a lot no one was telling her, even these seemingly welcoming 
women who said they were from Colorado. What was going on?
Bastien joggled his still-extended elbow. “Ven?”
“What could a tour hurt?” asked Alexa.
“You will certainly confirm that you aren’t in Colorado anymore. And once you 
see the volarans—”
“You’ll know you aren’t even on Earth,” Alexa said cheerfully.
Calli shuddered.
Marian touched her shoulder. “It takes some getting used to.”
Ignoring the banter, Calli swung her legs around, pushed off from the high bed 
and jarred to her feet. Bastien caught her hand in his and placed it on his arm, 
steadying her balance. There was a faint spurt of warmth from his touch but it 
felt unlike the women’s.
She should have shrieked in pain at the combination of movements. Instead, she 
felt almost as good as new. There was still a tenseness about her muscles, a 
sense of the fragility of her mended pelvis, something she didn’t think would 
ever go away, but she moved as if the fall had been a year ago, not months. 
That, more than anything, scared her into believing she was “somewhere else.” 
She didn’t want to think about that, though. She cleared her throat. “What did 
you do to me?”
“We healed you,” Alexa said.
Marian said, “We have magic. All of us have magic, and you do, too. It’s called 
Power here, and the culture is an aural one—more based on sound than vision. 
They call the Supreme Being ‘the Song,’ and use singing to channel their magic.”
Yeah. Right. Calli narrowed her eyes. Marian looked like a woman who would call 
the Supreme Being “Goddess.” Calli hadn’t often run into that religion, except 
the time when a pagan group held some sort of retreat on a campground near town.
She licked her lips.
“Want some water?” Marian asked. She went to an elegantly carved wooden corner 
table topped with marble and poured water from a pitcher into a heavy glass 
goblet, then brought it to Calli.
Calli sniffed, it smelled minty.
“Only water with peppermint,” Marian said.
Calli didn’t drink.
Alexa heaved a sigh. “On my word of honor, only minty water.” She touched her 
baton sheath.
Marian nodded. “On my word of honor.”
Alexa was from Denver and Marian from Boulder. Both city types. Would their 
words be good? Calli considered them and decided to trust them. It might just be 
a dream, after all.
As the water slid down her throat, leaving a tang of peppermint on her tongue, 
Calli thought it tasted awfully good and was pretty damn wet for a dream. She 
finished the glass and handed it to Marian, who put it back on the table.
“First things first,” Alexa said, starting toward the door. Bastien tucked 
Calli’s hand in his elbow and he and Calli followed Alexa.
Alexa continued. “This is the main healing room in the Keep of the Castle.”
“Keep?” asked Calli. That didn’t sound too familiar.
“Uh, the Marshalls’ Headquarters,” Alexa said. They exited into a wide hallway 
made of gray stone. Rustling behind her told Calli that others would be leaving, 
too. Now that they’d healed her. Huh. She wondered who would accompany her on 
the “tour.” She had an idea Marian and Faucon would come along.
“We’re on the second story of a five-story building, near the front that faces 
the Temple Ward. A ‘ward’ is a courtyard, and this one has a big, round Temple 
at the end. That’s where we Summoned you and where you came through the 
dimensional corridor this morning,” Alexa said.
They turned left and walked to the end of the hallway to a set of stairs.
“We’ll give you a map,” Alexa said.
“When we brief you later,” Marian said. “In private.”
That might be good. So many new faces were a little intimidating. Calli really 
hadn’t believed she had such an imagination to populate this dream. All of her 
other dreams—until recently—had been of simple stuff.
She suddenly recalled the dream that had woken her that morning. Alarms. People 
needing help…like several she’d had lately.
They tromped down the stairs and sounded like a bunch of people clattering down 
a stone staircase. The floor was hard under the soles of her boots, too.
“My tower’s diagonally behind us.” A smile flickered over Alexa’s face. “I have 
a whole tower to myself, here at the Marshalls’ Castle. I also have an estate of 
my own. You’ll get one, too.”
“A spread of my own?” Calli pounced on the statement.
“Yes.”
“Are there mountains?” Even walking down the large hallway, Calli could tell the 
air was more humid, felt different in her nose and on her tongue than the air 
she was used to. All her senses fed her unfamiliar information. She had to be 
dreaming, or there was a really big catch.
A shadow passed over Alexa’s face and for the first time she answered 
hesitantly. “There are mountains, but I don’t think you should live in them.”
“I can handle anything the mountains throw at me,” Calli said. She’d been 
through blizzard and fire and drought. But that was Colorado. If she was in some 
other dangerous place, she didn’t want to stay. She wanted her land, her ranch.
They reached a door. Alexa threw it open.
And Calli saw dozens of winged horses. Once again a flood of affection came from 
them.
Bastien urged her forward, but as soon as she took a step outside into the yard, 
the horses trumpeted in greeting.
She couldn’t help herself. Fascination at their beauty mesmerized her. She threw 
off Bastien’s hold and strode into the yard and was immediately surrounded by 
horseflesh. No, volaran flesh. Warm and fragrant and strong and just completely 
marvelous.
They pushed against her, noses snuffling at her hair, her shoulders, everywhere.
She was buffeted and…passed around.
What was even more fabulous was that she heard—whisperings—brushing her mind.
Our Exotique. 
Our Calli. 
Our friend. 
She reached out and stroked a neck, patted a nose and finally touched the wing 
of the dappled gray stallion.
The volarans moved several lengths away from her and the gray. The courtyard 
fell silent. Quietly, with infinite grace, the gray stretched out his wing for 
her to study.
It was simply the most beautiful thing Calli had ever seen. Huge and soft with 
feathers. But this was a big horse. She didn’t know how it could fly.
Magic. She heard the word clearly in her mind. And our bones are strong but 
hollow.
She swallowed.
Quick, small footsteps advanced and Alexa joined her. The woman’s face was 
alight with wonder.
“They love you,” Alexa said. “You’ve only just met them and they all love you.”
Once more Calli became aware of the delight emanating from them. This time it 
wasn’t words or just a feeling. This time it was a Song of welcome, blended of 
harmonies that sang of wild flight with the wind, of running, of pirouetting and 
playing in the air.
Like the sound that she had heard as a child when riding free and fast across a 
mountain meadow. A sound so sweet it made tears sting her eyes.
There were quick notes that skipped like her pulse before a barrel-riding 
competition.
The tune changed, became a song of fighting in battle.
An alarm clanged, echoing around the stone castle walls, pounding danger into 
the silence, breaking the mental song into a hundred fragments.
“Horrors invading through Arde Pass!” Alexa shouted.
Suddenly Bastien was there, running past them and grabbing Alexa. Saddles 
appeared on the backs of many volarans. Calli goggled. Had to be magic.
Bastien flung Alexa up onto the back of a big, black volaran, sprang into the 
saddle behind her and they rose in an upward spiral.
Calli’s breath caught as feathered wings swept the sky, flashing all colors 
against a bright blue. There was nothing so beautiful as a volaran in flight. 
The loveliness tightened her stomach.
Others ran and claimed their mounts. Calli saw Lady Hallard, Faucon, a man in 
pristine white leathers. Chevaliers in riding garb and Marshalls in their armor, 
all rose on a flurry of wings.
Two hawks bulleted from the Castle walls and flew beside Alexa. Soon, only a few 
volarans remained in the courtyard, including the gray and a mare with her young 
filly. Marian, a tall man with startling blue eyes and a golden headband 
standing next to her and some soldiers were the only people around.
Slowly Calli turned to the Circlets—Marian and her husband. A question she 
didn’t want answered tore from her throat. “Where did they go?”
“They go to fight the invading monsters. To live or die,” Marian said, face 
white and strained.
It had to be a dream.
4 
C alli ran her fingers all along her skull, paying attention to her temples, and 
the side of her head that would have hit the crystal. No cracks, no breaks. No 
pain.
She pressed a hand to her chest, felt the thump-thump-thump of her heart. 
Hearing it in her temples, it was slightly loud, slightly fast.
“You really are in a different world,” Marian said. Her gaze swept the empty 
ward, her smile forced. “Well, it looks as if the briefing is up to me.” Her 
hand reached out for the man’s next to her and was immediately clasped and 
squeezed.
Another woman who’d found love on Lladrana.
After a deep breath, Marian said, “We have several choices as to where to go. 
Alexa’s tower guest suite is open. The Chevaliers, of course, prepared a suite 
in Horseshoe Hall and Jaquar and I are living in the Sorcerers’ guest rooms. 
We’ll have tea.”
Calli stared at her. “Tea! What about beer? Better yet, whiskey.”
The man snorted. He appeared totally masculine in the long robe. A thought 
struck Calli.
“Shouldn’t he not understand us?”
Marian flushed, but answered with more grace than Calli might have managed. 
“We’ve developed a potion that helps with language comprehension. Naturally, we 
needed a test subject. Jaquar volunteered. He’s the only Lladranan who 
understands contemporary American usage.”
“You said you were from Boulder. The university, right? What were you, a prof?” 
Calli asked.
“Close, a grad student on the way to a professorship and a nice tenure track.”
“I might understand the words, but the concept of that last sentence eluded me,” 
Jaquar said in English. He bowed. “My pleasure to meet you, Lady Callista 
Torcher.”
“Boy, you catch on fast.” Calli stared at him. His words had a definite lilt, 
especially when pronouncing her name, but were perfectly understandable.
Since Calli wasn’t wearing a dress, and wasn’t sure how to curtsey anyway, she 
inclined her torso. Without pain. That notion still amazed her.
“Though drink sounds good, I think it might be most illuminating for Calli to 
visit the Map Room,” Jaquar said.
“I don’t know—” Calli started.
The little filly danced up to Calli, butted her. I am here and wanted you here 
and we all wanted you here and you came! Love us.
Another hard shot to the heart. How could she not love this dainty…what? 
Tentatively she stretched out her hand and stroked the little hor—volaran top to 
toe.
The dappled gray crowded close. Except for this one, I am the best at talking to 
humans. So I am yours to partner with. He nickered, then sniffed at her. You are 
healed and well. Want to fly?
Her hand went to her throat, clogged with turbulent emotions. Would they ever 
calm down and sort out? What a day! “I…I don’t know how.”
The volaran blinked. She’d spoken English. But it had spoken…what? Pressing her 
lips together in concentration, she sent her wide-eyed amazement at a flying 
horse to the volaran, with the image of a lot of horses—a herd of horses, and no 
volarans.
Horses only? His mental voice held disbelief.
She nodded. Yes. Nibbling her bottom lip, she considered what to do. Just the 
offer by the gray volaran was a challenge.
Marian and Jaquar stared at her, muttering to each other, faces set in 
fascinated expressions.
“You’re talking to the volaran?” asked Jaquar.
“Did he speak telepathically to you?” Marian said at the same time.
Calli rolled her eyes. “Shit, you two.”
Marian chuckled. “Yes, we’re endlessly interested in everything. I saw you nod. 
A nod means agreement, just like in the States.”
Practicality surfaced. Calli’d never ridden a strange horse without playing 
games on the ground with it first. She sent an image of her favorite game, 
followed by Play first?
Snorting, the volaran said, I am not a horse. Volarans are much superior. He 
paused and she realized that he wasn’t speaking English or—or that other 
language. He was speaking horse-volaran-equine.
And she was understanding, in her mind and by watching him—eyes, ears, mouth and 
feet.
We play games in the air. 
Well, that let her out. Volaran or not, she’d bet that, like horses, these 
equines tested their leaders. She may have been welcomed by them, felt that wave 
of love, but that didn’t mean they’d automatically elect her leader.
My back is broad and I will be careful. Just a short ride…I will use no distance 
magic. 
I will be in charge, Calli replied, lifting her chin, getting the hang of the 
talking. She felt she spoke horse better than any other language.
Of course. Was there a hint of slyness in that reply, in the dapple’s eyes?
It didn’t matter. Anything other than a flying horse, Calli could have resisted. 
But if this was a dream, she didn’t want to wake before she’d flown on a winged 
horse.
Me, too. Me, too. Me! The filly gamboled about. Tossed her head, then blew out a 
little breath and continued, My Dam will fly with me. We will all fly together.
The gray’s back rippled and a saddle appeared on it. Calli went up and checked 
the tack. It was harsher on horse—volaran—than the bits and bridles and saddle 
she usually used.
That would change if she stayed…if she awoke and it wasn’t a dream.
No, said the mare to her filly. Thunder and the Lady will fly high and fast and 
far. We will stay here.
The filly huffed and circled the courtyard.
Smiling, Calli unsaddled and unbridled the volaran, leaving the equipment on the 
ground. He watched her with an astonished gaze. So did the Circlets. Marian’s 
mouth had fallen open. Calli sensed that both she and her husband rode horses 
and flew volarans.
She’d like a hackamore, but if she was going to impress the stallion, she’d go 
all the way bareback. Hey, if it was a dream, all she’d do was wake up if she 
fell, and if it wasn’t, well, maybe her life wasn’t too much to pay for a ride 
on a flying horse.
Don’t you humans need those things? The stallion still looked at the saddle.
Trying to talk in her head and aloud, Calli said. “I didn’t like the tack I 
saw.”
“Oh,” Marian said.
Calli smiled. “Ever hear of natural horsemanship?”
Marian relaxed and smiled, too. “Of course. I saw a few demonstrations.” Her 
face clouded. “I never learned and my mother’s polo ponies—” She stopped.
“Polo.” Calli huffed a breath. Were they from different backgrounds or what?
With a determined nod, Marian strode to face the gray stallion. “Listen here.” 
She gestured to Calli. “This is your Exotique. If you lose her, you will have to 
explain to the Chevaliers why. And those who brought her here will reconsider 
Summoning someone else if you have no respect for her.”
Calli could have told Marian that she was wasting her breath. The volaran was 
paying more attention to Calli stroking his ears than Marian’s words. A shadow 
in his mind did hint at a concern of losing her and explaining that to the 
alphas in Volaran Valley.
As she continued caressing his ears, he relaxed, just as the horses she knew 
did, lowering his head.
Smiling, she relaxed, too, relieved. She did have knowledge that could apply to 
volarans. She ran her hand from neck to shoulder, shoulder to withers and 
barrel, again and again. His coat was silkier, softer than horsehair, as if each 
individual piece was not a hair strand but a minute feather. He stood quiet 
under her hands, yet pleasure emanated from him. Occasionally she sensed a 
“nudge” to rub or scratch him in a particular spot.
Cautiously, she set her hand on the upper edge of the muscular ridge where his 
wings attached to his body, marveling again at them—their softness, the coloring 
that complemented his coat. All the equine cues she’d read showed respect. With 
a deep breath and a prayer in her heart, she set one hand in the dark mane, the 
other in the small of his back and hauled herself up—nearly flew onto him. 
Something inside her sprang open, imbuing her with energy and grace 
and…and…magic?
She rubbed up his neck, all the while realizing that he was extraordinary, felt 
more than horselike. His wings fluttered against the back of her calves, causing 
an amazing feeling to well up inside her. As if here, on the back of this 
volaran, was her true destiny. For a moment she just sat, eyes closed. He didn’t 
smell horselike, but sweet and musky, like some crumbling amber she’d once had.
Interesting, he said. The neck muscles under her hand moved and she opened her 
eyes to see him staring at her. He whinnied. You feel good, you have great 
Power. Let’s go. He lifted his wings.
Calli’s stomach dipped. One moment. She scanned the area. The courtyard was 
huge.
Now she’d see if he’d obey her. Back for a running start.
Don’t need a running start. 
Again she stilled, let the beginning of her day rerun in her head, how she’d 
risen with pain, negotiated the steps, called for her horse…the emptiness she’d 
felt for months at not riding. Then she settled back, brought her legs forward 
slightly, squeezed and released. Back.
The volaran backed, she even turned him so they had all the courtyard ahead of 
them. Her mind seemed to touch his and it was almost as if they were one 
creature and not two. He was calm and a little amused.
“Good going!” Marian called. She and Jaquar had stayed near the door of the big 
square building with the large round corner towers. All along the courtyard 
people showed up in the walks to watch. Calli thought she saw money changing 
hands. She chuckled. Maybe not too different from Ea—Colorado after all. For a 
dream.
Finally, they stopped in the shadow of the huge white round temple behind them. 
At the opposite end of the courtyard was a three-story building with two small 
towers.
Another big breath. Soon she’d find out just how well she’d healed. The 
courtyard was paved with large gray stones. She leaned forward, whispering in 
the volaran’s ear and in its mind. Ready to run?
Yes. 
Go! 
He ran. Elation flooded her. No pain! More, the volaran’s gait was smooth, his 
body powerful under her. Strength and vitality flowed from hindquarters to neck, 
sifting down to his wingtips. She felt his energy mingling with her new extra 
sense. Before they were halfway down the courtyard his wings lifted, caught the 
air and they were soaring!
Calli gasped as they cleared the buildings, gasped again as she saw an 
additional courtyard beyond the one that held the temple. They flew high, 
angling toward the sun, and the moment was so huge, so incredible that it sank 
into her forever like she’d been gilded with sunlight.
Once again that day she lived in a moment of exquisite awareness, of total 
brilliance. The blue bowl of the sky dusted with clouds whirled around her and 
her mount. The entire universe centered around her and every wonderful thing in 
it focused on her.
She was life.
She was Power.
She flew.
Song filled her ears—wispy airs from the clouds, a hollow gonglike reverberation 
pulsing from the sky, a small, erratic Song radiating from the eart—planet 
below.
The planet is named Amee, said the volaran.
His Song enveloped them, laughing, exhilarated. He swept through a cloud and 
tiny particles shivered over her skin and cooled her.
She laughed to herself.
I am Gray-Clouds-That-May-Rain-Or-Thunder-Or-Clear. 
The English name sounded awkward in her head—the name was more than an image, it 
was active motion. A sky billowing with gray clouds of infinite possibilities 
which might change any moment. A future of many paths hung on that name. She’d 
call him Thunder.
“Callista” meant “most beautiful” and until now she’d never felt she’d lived up 
to that name.
But now, now, as they rode through the sunlight and shadow, wind tearing her 
hair back from her face, caressing her body, atop the volaran, Calli was the 
most beautiful woman in two worlds.
Finally she looked down and her gut clenched. She held tight to Thunder’s mane. 
The world below was green and fertile. And a long, long, long way down. What had 
possessed her to fly without tack? Yes, she, a wingless human did need something 
familiar to hang on to, even if it wasn’t as horse-friendly as it should have 
been.
She could almost hear herself go splat. Then she saw what she was flying over. 
Rolling green land. Fields. Woods. Manor houses. Villages. She thought a couple 
of towers and spires on the horizon to her left might be a small city. Land like 
this on Earth would be crowded with people.
Scents rose to her—rich and summer and humid, lush with verdant plant life. Not 
Colorado.
Was she dreaming? Or had she really fallen through that crystal to another world 
and was finally living the life always destined for her?
Too much. Far too many exotic, exciting experiences today. She nudged Thunder to 
circle and return to the Castle. He ignored her.
Panic twinged each nerve, though she kept an easy, calm and confident posture.
Thunder chuckled in her mind and she realized that flying on a volaran would 
take different skills. She was used to thinking through any demonstration of 
horse fears, staying positive. She wasn’t accustomed to some damn horse rustling 
around in her mind. With a couple of breaths, she settled herself completely. 
She was sure that she was the alpha in this situation, despite what Thunder 
thought.
With her legs, hands and mind, she concentrated on the pressure points of the 
horse/volaran’s body. Horses were prey animals, always aware of their 
surroundings. Calli didn’t sense that volarans here were as preyed upon as 
horses had been on Earth, but they would have prey instincts.
Humans were predators. She didn’t want to remind Thunder of that, she just 
wanted him to accept her as the alpha of the herd. The herd of two here in the 
sky. She kept her own concerns tightly reined. He might sense them, but he’d 
also see that she did not allow them to control her.
She reached out and touched the wing ridge of the side she wanted to turn.
He dipped.
She hung on and asked again for a turn.
He glanced back, lowered his head, licked his lips and made a wonderful, 
sweeping turn.
“Yee-ha!” she shouted into the blue, rubbing Thunder’s neck.
His mind melded with hers. You are most beautiful.
Soon a rocky promontory was in sight, and upon it, the Castle. She sighed, 
definitely ready to return. Calli noted how big the Castle was, larger than 
she’d thought. Frowning, she understood that there must be even more to it than 
the two courtyards she’d seen. On the land below it—what direction?—was a large 
town.
South of the Castle is Castleton. 
Castleton, huh? Well, that made sense. And if Castleton was south, that meant 
they were flying east toward the Castle and had been flying west to the…great 
lake? Sea? Ocean?
The Circlets have Towers on the islands off the west coast of Lladrana in the 
Sea of Brisay. 
Thunder seemed eager to please, now. His mind was completely unruffled, and 
completely accepting of her.
Calli tried more telepathy. I saw no one else flying.
The horrors invade from the north. Thunder tensed under her. He flew faster, 
tucked his legs close to his body. A prey animal making himself a smaller 
target. Whatever these horrors were, Calli got the idea that they ate volarans. 
Predators.
You will see, Thunder said. He quivered and his thoughts disintegrated into 
images and shapes and tones she couldn’t understand. True equinespeak that she 
could feel but not completely understand.
The Castle loomed bigger and bigger, with a wall about three stories high and 
the square building with four towers rising an extra two.
Awesome.
Most of it was gray stone, though part was of yellow, and she could discern the 
round white building of the great Temple.
There is a Landing Field. Thunder’s ears flicked. It was more a question than 
statement.
We will land from where we took off. I’m sure Marian and Jaquar are waiting for 
us. Now she thought of them, she could feel them, as if they’d connected with 
her some way. During the healing? Probably. Wouldn’t folks who healed you with 
magic from the inside be connected with you afterward? Made sense. She might 
have a lot of bonds already, then. Huh.
More than feeling them, she could hear Songs. An interesting, intricate Song 
with echoes of Earth rhythms from Marian, an equally complicated, more masculine 
bass and brass from Jaquar. And a powerful twining Song greater-than-its-parts 
from them as a couple.
She saw them in the courtyard, sitting and observing her, leaning together. A 
brief spurt of envy held her still.
Thunder zoomed down, turned. The wind caught his wings and he tipped sideways. 
Calli’s fingers slipped from his mane and she fell right off him. She screamed 
and plummeted. A whisk of air surrounded her, spun her like she was trapped in a 
gentle whirlwind, then she was righted and set onto her feet before Marian and 
Jaquar.
Marian’s eyes were huge, her hands to her throat. Jaquar’s right arm was 
outstretched. Calli stared at it. It had been he, the Sorcerer, who’d caught her 
and brought her down safely.
Magic.
She really needed that whiskey.
 
Marrec could hardly believe Dark Lance was back and they were flying to battle, 
just as they had for many years. He swallowed hard. The cool wind stung his 
eyes. He blinked and looked around him, awed by the sight of all the Marshalls 
and Chevaliers streaming to the battlefield at the same time. Bright colors, 
shining armor and gleaming volaran coats flowed like banners against the summer 
blue sky.
Usually there’d be fighters caught elsewhere when the alarm rang, who’d arrive 
later, but all the Chevaliers of the Castle had been near the Keep, or lounging 
in Temple Ward, to glimpse the new Exotique.
So they flew together and Marrec’s heart lifted. The Castle alarm was connected 
to the magical fence posts along the north border of Lladrana. When it rang, the 
pattern of the notes and the stridency alerted them to the place where the 
monsters invaded and the number of horrors to expect. Experience had taught him 
to understand the alarm. They flew to the northeast.
As he watched, opaque bubbles formed around volarans and riders, masking the 
bold heraldic colors and gleam of mail. “Distance magic,” spells that increased 
the distance a volaran flew with every beat of its wings. Warriors could fly 
immense distances and engage the enemy near the border instead of dealing with 
monsters deep in Lladrana.
Need Power for Distance Spell, said Dark Lance.
5 
M arrec sent Power to his volaran. Together they curved the distance-magic spell 
around them. With every beat of wings, leagues were covered.
Dark Lance whinnied in surprise. More Power.
It was his first real mental communication since he’d returned.
Yes, Marrec said. I linked with others, with the Marshalls and stronger 
Chevaliers to heal the new Exotique. The pathways in my mind that channel Power 
opened more.
Good, Dark Lance said, then fell silent. The volaran had never been one to speak 
while flying unless it was urgent. Their few real conversations had taken place 
in the stables. Marrec ached to question Dark Lance on the disappearance but had 
to put his curiosity aside to prepare for battle.
When the bubble of distance magic popped, Marrec rose from a light trance and 
watched the ground near. They descended to a large clearing in the shadow of the 
mountains. Dark Lance was following Lady Hallard’s volaran down to the west side 
of the battle. The Marshalls were already down and fighting as the incredible 
team they were—fifty linked minds decimated the monsters.
With a clutch of his gut, Marrec saw there were plenty of foes still available. 
This was one of the largest attacks he’d ever seen. Had the Dark taken note that 
they’d struggled to repel the last few incursions—and on horseback, not 
volarans? He was all too sure of that.
Not one slayer, render or soul-sucker could be allowed to escape into the 
interior of Lladrana.
He slipped his shield onto his right arm, unsheathed his broadsword.
“Marrec!” Two volarans and riders were at his left, Chevaliers sworn to Lady 
Hallard, a man and a woman with whom he usually teamed. All of them could speak 
with their volarans. He hesitated.
Dark Lance didn’t, and Marrec was pulled into a loose connection of minds. The 
other volarans were mere murmurs.
That mixed bunch, left! cried Sharmane, diving toward a group of ten.
Renders are mine! Jon shouted, heading for a massive black-furred beast with 
razor-sharp claws.
Soul-suckers! Marrec called. Dark Lance trembled, but Marrec was determined and 
urged his mount toward the two soul-suckers on the fringes. Soul-suckers rated 
the best bounty and he wanted some hides.
I will Shield you both, Sharmane yelled.
Dark Lance caught a soul-sucker with one hoof in its nose hole, smashing the 
gray head apart with a killing blow. The three tentacles at its right shoulder 
writhed, one whipping across Marrec’s waist. A yellow slayer spine shot to him. 
He deflected the poisonous arrow with his shield, swung his sword and 
decapitated another soul-sucker, continued his blow to slash the back of the 
yellow-furred slayer. The thing shrieked and turned, spines shooting from its 
arm straight to Dark Lance.
Terror flooded Dark Lance. He reared. Spines struck, bounced off the protective 
shield both Marrec and Sharmane had slapped over the volaran. Marrec pulled the 
fear from his steed’s mind, using the emotion to drive his own Power, making his 
strikes harder, faster. He sent iron calm and fierce determination to the 
volaran. We shield. You live.
Only the moments mattered, the next blow, ducking, turning, spearing. Slashing, 
kicking, cleaving. His mind held the volaran’s, refusing to let the winged horse 
panic, bolstering its innate courage. Imposing his will for the duration of the 
fight.
He caught sight of the bright blue line of energy from a newly raised fence 
post. In a fury of fighting, he forced a render and a soul-sucker onto the 
border line and killed them. The energy field flared high and secure at that 
point and Marrec grinned, a rictus of triumph.
Done! came the loud shout of the Marshalls, rushing from mind to mind to the 
Chevaliers. The battle was over, all the horrors destroyed.
He panted a spell over his blade to clean it, ordered Dark Lance to the ground. 
Marrec wiped his forehead with his arm, winced as he finally felt the sting of 
two sucker rounds that had raised bumps on his cheek. His muscles were tired, 
aching, but his blood still sang with the aftermath of victory. He grinned at 
Sharmane and Jon and went to count his booty.
He found six soul-sucker bodies with his killing mark, three renders and a 
couple of slayers. A third of his kill went to Sharmane who’d acted as his 
Shield. He gave his tally to Lady Hallard and she took her third, choosing to 
keep the two headless soul-suckers with most of their hide and tentacles. 
Soul-sucker was now in demand for hats ever since Bastien Vauxveau had shown how 
well they protected a person from the frink-worms that fell with the rain.
When Marrec piled his prize in the spell-net, ready to take to an assayer, Dark 
Lance lifted his lip. Nasty smell.
“Yes, but I made some decisions when you were gone. From now on we’ll be taking 
all our kill.”
The volaran shuddered. Uses more Power to fly back.
“From both of us.” He attached two long lines to rings on both sides of Dark 
Lance’s saddle to the net. “I promise this catch will feel no heavier than a 
pouch of silver coins. And I’ll buy a better net. There’s zhiv to be made in 
selling hides. The demand for slayer and render hide has gone up from the City 
States and Shud.”
Dark Lance snorted, then looked away. We last.
Marrec looked around. His volaran was right. Everyone else was gone. An 
atavistic tingle slithered down his spine. The sun was setting and they’d be 
lucky to be back at the Castle before dark. He tested his reserves and found 
them acceptable for the flight. That was a relief. Not everyone had taken their 
kills. The Marshalls and wealthier nobles who had paying estates didn’t need the 
extra zhiv and only claimed trophies they wanted mounted. A whole soul-sucker 
was a few strides away…. He snorted in disgust at the idea of becoming a 
scavenger…but he wanted to better his lot in life. Still, his net was full and 
his Power limited.
And night threatened. There was no local landowner so far north to offer 
hospitality. Died out long ago, just as had Marrec’s parents and the rest of his 
village. His memories of that massacre were blessedly vague. Again he shivered, 
then the light dimmed just enough for the boundary line to brighten the evening 
and he was comforted.
The ancient fence posts that had begun failing a couple of years ago were now 
being replaced. Everyone now knew how, and how to energize the boundary line 
from one fence post to the next. This bit of land was secure.
That didn’t mean he wanted to hang around. “Let’s go home.”
Home, echoed Dark Lance wistfully. To Marrec’s relief he saw the image of the 
Castle stables in the volaran’s mind, instead of Volaran Valley. Thank the Song.
 
An embarrassed Thunder took off, with a brief telepathic, I must report on our 
ride together. Huh. Calli rolled her shoulders and fell into a standard analysis 
of her performance. The flight had been magnificent. She’d bonded with the 
volaran more than with the simple empathy she’d felt for her lost Spark. They’d 
been partners, but with her in the lead. She sensed a volaran’s threshold of 
going “right brain,” acting in panic, was far higher than a horse’s. They must 
not have had many predators, probably not for a long time.
Marian and Jaquar took Calli to the Map Room on the other side of the courtyard. 
Something in the way people referred to the room jittered her nerves so she 
thought of it in capital letters. When they reached the door, she noted incised 
golden letters in curlicued words which she couldn’t read. More and more this 
was seeming less a dream, more like an alternate reality, but how could she 
believe that?
Jaquar opened the door and held it. She stepped in to see a topographical map as 
large as a California king bedsheet angled before her, looking like no country 
she’d ever seen before. And it was animated. Bright yellow-white dots pulsed 
fast, other dots, smaller and yellower, blinked slower.
Marian marched up to the map and touched the largest island off the western 
coast. “This is where Jaquar and I, and my mentor, Bossgond, live.” She 
indicated a small castle in the middle of the map. “This is where we are now.”
Calli gulped.
Jaquar pointed to the lights Calli had noticed. “This is the magical northern 
boundary, Power strung between the fence posts—” he tapped the lights “—to keep 
the horrors out.”
Nape prickling, Calli took a few steps closer. Her mouth had dried. She swept a 
tongue over her lips. “There are gaps.”
“Indeed,” Jaquar said. “The old fence posts are failing. Only recently have we 
been able to replace them—”
“Alexa’s task,” Marian interrupted, her dark blue eyes serious.
“Alexa’s task.” Calli cleared her throat. “And yours?”
Marian shrugged. “I had a couple. The Marshalls hid the fact that the fence 
posts were failing and the monsters were invading easily and in greater numbers. 
This splintered already distant communities within the culture.” She gestured to 
herself and Jaquar, indicating their golden headbands. “Such as the Circlets of 
the Tower Community.”
“And most especially divided the Chevaliers from the Marshalls,” Jaquar said. 
“Alexa was Summoned for the Marshalls, Marian for the Sorcerers and Sorceresses, 
and you for the Chevaliers.” He took his wife’s hand and kissed her fingers. 
“Marian has done a brilliant job of mending the breach between the Marshalls and 
Tower…as well as being an ambassador from the Tower Community to others. They 
trust us now.”
“As much as less magical people trust the most magical,” Marian said with a wry 
smile.
A hum came from the map and both Marian and Jaquar turned back to it. “Ah,” said 
Jaquar. He tapped a spot on the border where bright flashes came. “The battle is 
over and the Marshalls and Chevaliers are returning.” He let out a big sigh. “We 
lost no one and there’s a new fence post. The border is strengthened to the next 
post, so we killed some horrors.” He eyed the map critically. “No larger 
monsters made it very far into Lladrana.”
That was the second time Calli had heard “monsters.” She straightened her 
shoulders. “Guess that’s what I’m supposed to do, right, kill monsters? Maybe 
stop the invasion?”
Marian’s forehead creased. “Since the volarans disappeared and only returned 
after you were Summoned, it can be extrapolated that not only will you mend the 
divisiveness within the Chevalier community, and their distrust of the 
Marshalls, but also—um—speak on behalf of the volarans to everyone, particularly 
those who fly on—with—them.”
Calli blinked as she unraveled that sentence. She wished Marian had spoon-fed it 
to her in little bites.
But maybe she was just in an elaborate dream. Maybe a coma. Damn! Not more 
medical bills.
Jaquar’s penetrating stare pulled her from her thoughts. “But the Chevaliers fly 
to battle. They are our—” he frowned as if searching for a word “—knights. They 
would expect you to fly, train and fight with them.”
Marian put an arm around her and squeezed, a small smile on her lips as they met 
each other’s gaze. “I know it’s difficult to believe you’re on another world, 
let alone understand what’s going on in a few short hours.”
Rubbing her temples, Calli didn’t answer—but something else was telling her she 
might not be in a dream. “Is there a toilet around here?”
The Circlets smiled. Marian said, “We don’t know the Castle well, there’s one in 
Alexa’s guest suite and in the Circlets’ Apartments, both in the Keep.” She 
cleared her throat. “You’ll be staying there tonight. The medica recommended you 
be close, and both Alexa and I would like to talk to you.”
Indoctrinate her. “I’m not staying.” If she was really here. Still, her bladder 
was full…but she’d had dreams about that, too.
“It took all the Marshalls and the Chevaliers to bring you here. How do you 
think you’ll get back?” asked Jaquar.
Calli could feel her expression set into pure stubbornness. She didn’t care.
What could these dream people do to hurt her? She shifted. She didn’t want to 
know, but confidence and fearlessness were as important in relation to people as 
they were to horses. “I don’t know, but I’ll think of something.” A thought 
struck and her smile widened. Horses didn’t lie in any of their body language 
and she believed volarans couldn’t either. “And I can double-check anything you 
tell me with the volarans, can’t I?”
Jaquar’s eyes twinkled. “That you can.”
“I promise you I won’t ever lie to you,” Marian said. Her aura throbbed with 
what Calli sensed was pure truth.
“Okay,” Calli said.
“On my word of honor,” Marian said.
Calli nodded. “Right.” She turned to the door.
“One moment,” Jaquar said. An extra lilt in his voice caught Calli’s attention. 
He sure was learning English quickly. She glanced at him.
“Behold,” he said.
Marian coughed.
He waved and huge chunks of the map went golden yellow. “These are the 
unoccupied and unclaimed estates of Lladrana. Many are very prosperous. You will 
be allowed your choice.”
Breath caught in her chest, Calli stared. Land of her own. Everything in the 
mountains of the north seemed empty, but so did a bunch of other places in the 
real “green” part of the land. Big pieces of land.
Walking to the map, Marian pointed. “This is where Alexa and Bastien live. Her 
estate was vacant. She’s very wealthy now. As am I.”
“Money’s not everything,” Calli muttered.
“Alexa wanted a real home. She has that, and a man she loves. I have a husband 
and a tower I built myself with magic. I have great magical ability—Power. I’m 
free to research whatever I want, whenever I want and I’ll be founding a school 
in the future.
“What do you want? I’m sure whatever it is, we can accommodate you,” Marian 
asked.
They couldn’t give her children. No one could do that. Calli wanted to whirl on 
her heel and walk away, but her gaze was still stuck to the map. She wanted a 
spread of her own…and look at all that land! Part of her dream could come true. 
But land was the least of what she truly wanted. She wanted family. And her 
family, what there was of it, was back on Earth and had rejected her.
Now the watery gob in her throat was more from sadness than surprise and dazzled 
greed. “I gotta pee,” she said. She headed out the door and across the courtyard 
to the keep building. The Circlets paced her.
“What’s your vocation?” Marian asked and Calli knew she meant it in the widest 
sense of the word, what job really drew her.
With a lift of her chin, she replied, “I’m a horse trainer.” She’d meant to be. 
When she returned to Colorado, she would find a way to make that dream come 
true.
Marian smiled. “I bet you’re more of a ‘horse whisperer.’ But you can do that 
here. And I’m sure volarans need to be trained, too.” Marian waved a hand. “Or 
people and volarans need to learn how to partner each other better.” She glanced 
back at the Map Room. “To better vanquish the Dark. The Marshalls and Chevaliers 
and Circlets are working on that.” Marian looked at Jaquar. He lifted and 
dropped a shoulder. Calli smiled. Obviously academics. Didn’t look at all like 
nerds or geeks or whatever, but they sure were more interested in more brainy 
things than physical.
“The volarans talk to some others, too, most primarily Bastien. He’ll know what 
Chevalier-Volaran needs are,” Marian said.
A few minutes later, Calli was checking out the large round guest suite in 
Alexa’s tower. There was a toilet, one of the old kind with the tank on the top, 
and a shower. She yearned for the shower but wasn’t about to take her clothes 
off. The way this day was going, anything could happen and she wasn’t about to 
be naked and vulnerable if it did.
When she returned to the main room, the Circlets smiled at her with identical 
gleams in their eyes and Calli didn’t like it. Especially when she saw Jaquar 
shaking a dark purple bottle about two inches high. “What’s that?”
“The language potion,” they said in unison.
“Nope.”
Jaquar sent her a winning smile. “You see how it worked for me.”
“Like a charm,” Marian said.
“Nope.” Calli wanted to slip her hands in her pockets but thought she should 
keep her hands free.
“You could try just one drop,” Marian said. “That would be temporary.”
Again shaking the bottle, Jaquar said, “There’s about three months’ worth of 
potion in here. The magical properties fade with time, so you learn the language 
gradually. After three months, you should know Lladranan.”
“So you know English now, but if you don’t use the language every day, it will 
fade away?” asked Calli, intrigued.
Jaquar frowned as if he didn’t like the idea of losing a skill. “True.”
“Pillow talk,” Marian said. “And if you marry a Lladranan and bond with him mind 
to mind, you also learn the language, the more, ah, intimate you are.”
“Many pathways are opened during sex.” Jaquar grinned again.
That sounded even more frightening. “Absolutely not.” Calli smiled herself. “I’m 
not convinced this isn’t a dream.” She looked around at the color of the 
furnishings. “Though there’s more purple than usual in my dreams.”
“That’s the heraldic color assigned to Exotiques, especially Marshalls. Alexa’s 
suite was mostly purple, she’s switched out a lot of furniture from there to 
here.”
“Purple is not my color,” Calli said.
At that moment a triangle rang. Calli sensed an inrush of bright and healthy 
volaran minds.
“The Marshalls and Chevaliers have returned!” Marian said. Jaquar stood and 
pocketed the bottle.
Calli ran to the window where she’d caught sight of beating wings. The whole 
army swooped down to the landing field out of her sight.
I am here, too, Thunder called.
Calli exited the opulent rooms without a backward look, running down the tower 
stairs to the outside door. She flung it open only to face the tall hedges of a 
maze.
6 
A young woman in her mid-twenties, dressed in buff-colored Chevalier leathers, 
but obviously not a fighter, hovered between the hedges. Shifting from foot to 
foot, she smiled and bowed to Calli, then pressing her fingers to her chest, she 
said, “Seeva Hallard.”
Calli nodded, probably a relation to Lady Hallard, daughter maybe. “Hey, Seeva.”
Seeva swept a hand toward the interior of the maze and said something in the 
French-like language. Once again the strangeness of this place struck Calli, but 
when the woman took off through the maze, Calli followed. It took longer to wend 
their way through than Calli anticipated. Impatience to see a lot of volarans 
again nibbled at her. She let her mind reach and knew all the winged horses were 
fine. Thank God.
Finally she and Seeva made it to the field, and all the volarans, even those 
being led away by grooms, stopped and turned to Calli.
Thunder pranced up to her. His hide rippled. Grooming time. The strong scent of 
amber rose from him. Volaran sweat, Calli guessed.
I’m sure, she replied to him.
I would like a rubdown. 
He was demanding, but Calli felt indulgent. “I can do that,” Calli said, sending 
images of standard grooming. He whickered.
Three people separated themselves from the rest and walked toward her—Alexa, 
Bastien and the older Chevalier who Calli had heard was the “representative to 
the Marshalls.” She wore yellow and gray. Her tunic, which Calli recalled as 
being pristine, was stained and torn. Yeah, she’d been fighting.
Against monsters that Calli hadn’t seen. Yet.
The woman shot orders to Seeva, who ran across the landing field. Calli recalled 
the older woman’s name was Hallard. Lady Hallard. If Calli remained in this 
dream, would she get a title, too?
“Exotique,” Lady Hallard said with a little bow.
Oh, she already had a sort of title. Exotique Calli. Exotique Alexa. Exotique 
Marian—Calli had heard all three of them called that. Women from Earth.
Lady Hallard sent a stream of rapid-fire words to Alexa, who winced and kept 
nodding, a pained smile on her face. Then Alexa bowed to Lady Hallard, answered 
in a mild voice and talked a while.
After she ended, Lady Hallard nodded, bowed again to Calli and strode away, 
leaving her volaran to grooms. Calli saw several people who wore her colors on 
an armband bow to her. The older woman waved casually to them.
Bastien shook his head. Alexa sighed. “She said that she was told Thunder gave 
you a good report and she wants you to be integrated into the Chevaliers’ ranks 
as soon as possible. And you shouldn’t be up at the Marshalls’ keep.” Now 
Alexa’s smile-grimace was aimed at Calli, who wanted to pay more attention to 
all the volarans inching closer to ring them. The flying horses still seemed as 
fascinated with her as she was with them.
“I insisted that you stay in my tower tonight,” Alexa said.
“All right. I need to groom Thunder,” Calli said.
“Fine.” Alexa rubbed her gauntleted hands together. “Calli, do you want Marian 
and me to lay all this out at once or drop it on you in little bits?”
Calli sent Alexa a crooked smile as she stroked the exquisite softness of 
Thunder’s near wing. “I think this is all a dream and I’ll wake up in my own bed 
tomorrow morning.”
“Not going to happen,” Alexa said.
Bastien spoke and Alexa nodded again, this time with enthusiasm. “The more you 
bond with the volarans, the more you are physically aware of this world—like by 
grooming Thunder—the more you’ll believe you’re here. So Bastien’ll take you to 
the stables and teach you. Later we’ll eat in my tower with Marian and Jaquar.”
“Jaquar speaks English.”
“What?” 
“They made a potion—”
“Of course they did,” Alexa said.
“—and he tried it out. So he can speak English.”
Alexa looked up at Calli. “Wonder how that works.”
“Me, too.”
Bastien gently jostled Alexa aside and offered his arm to Calli. She didn’t need 
it this time. She made a lead-theway gesture.
He grabbed Alexa and kissed her hard, patted her butt and sent her off toward 
the maze. Apparently she didn’t groom volarans. But then, she didn’t ride them 
by herself, either. Interesting.
Bastien sent a loud mental message that showed the stables. Once again the 
volarans began to move to the large building at the opposite end of the Landing 
Field. Calli blinked. Was that really the stables? It was huge. Big enough to 
house every volaran here, for sure.
They walked through a corridor of volarans, with people standing behind the 
winged horses, staring. The folks wore a mixture of expressions. Everything from 
irritation and resentment to…awe? She didn’t want to be awe inspiring.
As Calli passed, she felt soft muzzles sliding against her, sniffing. Once again 
overwhelming approval came as she sensed the volarans’ feelings. She smelled 
wonderful. Different. She’d flown with Thunder and smelled of him, too, and the 
mixture was lovely. She smelled sweet.
Calli stopped. Sweet?
Bastien chuckled, as if he heard the volarans. “Ayes,” he said, nodding. 
“Doose.”
She didn’t think of herself as sweet. Tough, practical, with horse sense, but 
not sweet.
Sweet. Thunder pranced by her side. I will get the best stall, with plenty of 
wing space.
She stared at him, turned to Bastien. Thunder turned his head, too, and squinted 
at Bastien.
Bastien grinned, showing flashing white teeth. Though he smelled of man and 
volaran sweat, he looked none the worse for battle…except there was dark, nasty 
goo on his right sleeve. He nodded. “Ayes.” He held up one index finger. 
“Calli.” Then he held up the other forefinger. “Thunder.” He linked them.
Calli frowned and used wide hand gestures. “Why does Thunder get the best 
stall?” She said it loudly and flushed. As if speaking loudly would make someone 
understand your language. She lifted her shoulders high and spread her palms up.
Bastien just winked and kept walking. Thunder said, Because I partner with you, 
I am the most important volaran.
That was a little scary. She caught up with Bastien and entered the most 
luxurious stables she’d ever seen, but didn’t have time to linger because of the 
press of volarans and Chevaliers behind her.
Babble and grooming sounds rose throughout the stables as the Marshalls and 
Chevaliers spent time with their volarans. Great waves of relief and love 
blanketed the big building. No sooner had Calli entered the large stall with 
Thunder and Bastien than the strikingly handsome Chevalier she’d seen during her 
healing leaned over the stall’s half door.
“Salut, Bastien,” he said, looking at her.
Bastien snorted. “Salut, Faucon.”
Smiling, Faucon said, “Prie introd moi?”
With a tilt of his head, Bastien replied. To her surprise, Calli found a wash of 
brotherly love coming her way from him. It startled and touched her. How could 
he like her so soon?
Because Thunder told Alexa and me of your flight and Alexa likes you. Bastien 
spoke more in Equine and images—Thunder’s idea of their flight, Alexa with her 
arm around Calli—but Calli got it. She turned to the back of the stall and 
blinked rapidly. The outpouring of feeling toward her today was nothing she’d 
ever experienced. Even when her fans at the rodeo yelled or clapped, it was 
nothing compared to this. This warmth sent to her was personal, based more on 
who she was than what she was…an Exotique. The Chevalier Exotique.
There was a brief conversation, with Bastien smiling but contrary, and the 
handsome man moved on with irritation in his eyes and a smile on his lips.
Then Bastien and Calli worked together. She had no trouble recognizing the 
standard implements hanging from the stall sides, but when she took them down, 
she found them a little different. The brushes were made of something she didn’t 
recognize—something for the feather-hide of the volarans. There was also a faint 
sheen on the fine bristles—oil for the feathers. Furthermore, the tools tingled 
in her hands. Magic.
Grooming the horse part of Thunder went easily. They paid special attention to 
the hide under the wings. Thunder’s mind lightly touched both hers and Bastien’s 
and he helped her.
The stall was much wider than usual and she found out why when Thunder moved to 
one side and stretched out a wing. Calli looked at it nervously. Shouldn’t he be 
able to clean them himself?
Thunder snorted. You.
Bastien took down a couple of fancy brushes and they flared in his hands—more 
magic. With exaggerated motions he taught Calli to groom the wings. He started 
with the undersides and moved with incredible gentleness from where the wings 
attached, outward to the tips of the feathers. Watching closely, Calli wasn’t 
sure that the brush actually touched the feathers at all, more like some sort of 
aura or field. Or something. She saw, she felt, but she didn’t have the words to 
describe.
Yet there was a connection here, mind to mind with Thunder. Working with her 
hands, the brush, stroking the winged horse, made this dream seem all too real. 
Thunder’s muscles flexed under her fingers. The stable was full of odors—volaran 
sweat, human sweat and an occasional whiff of something Calli thought might be 
volaran shit. Not too smelly for her, but then, horse shit didn’t bother her 
much, either.
 
By the time Marrec had sold his kill to an assayer south of Castleton and flown 
back to the Castle, he and Dark Lance were exhausted.
Don’t like this long day. Dark Lance blew out a breath.
“I don’t, either, but we must plan for the future.” If he lived long enough to 
have a future. One thing was certain, his bargaining skills were too damn rusty. 
He should have gotten more for his haul.
He’d been stuck in a rut, living the life of a soldier attached to a Lady, with 
no home, no land of his own. Had somehow lost that dream. Had been spending his 
pay and not always collecting his kills, and taking those he had claimed to the 
Castle Assayer who paid a lower price. “We’ll fight until we have a stake good 
enough for land of our own. You’d like your own land, right?”
Yes, but Castle is good. Walking toward the stables, Dark Lance whuffled in 
Marrec’s hair. Back.
“Yes,” Marrec said. “Thank you for coming back.”
Warm. Good food. My place low in Volaran Valley herd. Mares no look at me. My 
place with you high. 
“The highest. And I’ll find a mare in season for you.” Any vow was worth having 
his volaran stay. Dark Lance had become his highest priority.
Too big and ugly in Volaran Valley herd. 
Surprised, Marrec stopped and looked at his steed. He was large for a volaran, 
but any human would consider him a good-looking flying horse. His hide and wings 
were solid black, with each wing feather outlined in silver. He stroked Dark 
Lance’s neck. “You are beautiful.”
Humans think so. Not volarans. He rolled his dark eyes and they looked sly. You 
will show me to the lady of volarans and she will think me beautiful. Then I 
will get higher place here. And a mare.
Marrec laughed shortly. Like master, like volaran. He was considering ways to 
gain status and wealth himself. “I’ll do that.” He inhaled deeply. “I’ll 
introduce you to the Exotique, but she will be fighting, too.” If she really was 
for the Chevaliers.
Lady inside stables with Thunder and Bastien. Show me now! Dark Lance’s tone had 
taken on a weary stubbornness, warning Marrec it would be wise to agree.
He wanted another look at her anyway, that incredible hair, those blue eyes. Two 
of the Exotiques had blue eyes. How common was that? Faint curiosity about the 
Exotique Terre tickled his mind. “Very well.” But he needed to press his point 
one more time. “The best way for us to get you a mare is to take more chances 
for honor on the battlefield.”
Dark Lance shivered, but finally said, I trust you. We fight well. We will get 
higher place.
So it hadn’t escaped the volaran’s notice that Marrec wasn’t exactly the alpha 
of his herd, either.
“Yes.” Somehow, yes.
 
Clop, clop, clop. 
Latecomers were entering the stable. When they reached Thunder’s stall, a 
volaran stopped and a beautiful horse head looked at her. He lifted a wing and 
Calli’s breath caught at his loveliness. He appeared to be night made 
tangible—midnight dark edged with moonlight.
Thunder whickered. Dark Lance. An image of a sword blade etched with a streaking 
volaran came to Calli’s mind.
Dark Lance whinnied and dipped his head to her. Come see me. His voice was 
deeper than Thunder’s.
Though Thunder’s mind hummed with a little irritation, he sidestepped so Calli 
had room enough to pass him and Bastien. Gently she touched the soft nose, 
stroked Dark Lance.
Beautiful Lady. The volaran’s deep voice resonated in her mind.
“Ayes,” said the man who joined the winged horse, his large, callused hand 
resting on Dark Lance’s neck.
“Salut, Marrec,” Bastien said, moving to stand beside Calli.
“Salut, Bastien.” His gaze went to her. “Salut, Dama.” He nodded.
She recognized another Chevalier who’d been in the healing room when she’d 
awakened. His leathers were old, with fine cracks and several stains. He wore an 
armband of yellow and gray—Lady Hallard’s colors. His face was bony, with 
deep-set eyes, a strong jaw and firm lips. Beneath his golden complexion was a 
gray tinge that spoke of exhaustion, though nothing else did about this tough, 
lean man. He was taller than Bastien and the other man who’d visited.
“Salut,” she said.
He turned his head fully to her and she saw more than weariness. Two round 
circles of red raised bumps showed on his far cheek.
Bastien whistled, reached into his pocket and pulled out a tube, offered it to 
Marrec.
For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, then his scarred fingers took the tube. He 
ducked his head to Bastien. “Merci.”
Beautiful Lady. Dark Lance tossed his head. Beautiful Dark Lance.
Calli and Bastien laughed and Marrec’s smile was quick and easy, lighting his 
serious expression. He ran a hand down his volaran’s neck in a loving stroke 
that Calli knew was habitual.
Avanser. He gestured to the end of the stables. Calli heard the instruction to 
Dark Lance easily. The mind-tone was as caring as his fingers had been. Man and 
volaran moved down the stable corridor.
Calli frowned. She’d noticed that the stalls got incrementally smaller down the 
line and Dark Lance was larger than Thunder. She asked Thunder a question in 
Equine that was becoming easier with each use.
Low status, replied Thunder with a hint of arrogance.
Since he included both man and volaran in the image, Calli figured the term 
applied to both.
Bastien tapped her on the shoulder and indicated feed sacks and a trough at the 
back of the stall. As she helped him mix Thunder’s dinner, Calli wondered about 
rank and status and contrasted the clothing and bearing of Marrec with Faucon.
Faucon was a noble, she was sure. He’d worn finer-grained leathers that looked 
newer, and heavier chain mail. His leathers had been dyed, Marrec’s had just 
been cured. Faucon had not walked with a winged horse. Probably had someone else 
tending it. Calli smiled. His mistake.
A small whirlwind entered the stable, Alexa, followed by the two amused 
Circlets. The little Marshall stomped up to the stall door. “What’s keeping 
you?” she asked, and repeated it in Lladranan.
Bastien started to answer, but she cut him off, addressing Calli. “We have a lot 
to cover, especially since Lady Hallard insists that we tell you they want you 
married tomorrow evening.”
The lulling comfort of being around volarans vanished in an instant. Warning 
bells rang in Calli’s head. “What did you say?”
7 
M arian stepped up to the stall door, tsking at Alexa. “Well, that’s crude.”
Alexa flushed. “I could’ve been cruder.”
“Yes,” said Jaquar. “Why don’t you be? I think I’d like to know some exotique 
words that might excite my wife.”
Bastien made a protest that included the word Lladranan, and Calli thought he 
was demanding they speak so he could understand.
Jaquar whipped out the small bottle of language potion he’d offered Calli, 
jiggled it. Expressions flowed across Bastien’s face: wariness, unwilling 
fascination. He held up one finger.
More discussion—and negotiating. Calli knew horse trading when she heard it, 
despite the language. Finally Jaquar frowned, pulled out some big coins—they 
looked like real gold—and handed them to Bastien. Bastien pocketed the money and 
stuck out his tongue.
The tiny cork lifted with a little pop. A thread of lavender smoke puffed from 
the bottle. Bastien’s eyes widened, Alexa stepped closer, and Calli sidled next 
to Thunder, feeling better with strong, warm hors—volaran flesh at her side.
Jaquar tipped the bottle and a drop of liquid hit Bastien’s tongue. The cork 
popped back into the bottle. Bastien swallowed.
He slid down against the stall side onto the floor, grabbed his head and moaned.
Calli and Thunder stepped back. She was glad she hadn’t tried the stuff.
Alexa was suddenly in the stall with them, crouched over Bastien. Calli hadn’t 
seen her move. Had she jumped? The stall door came nearly to Alexa’s shoulders. 
Surely not.
Jaquar looked at Calli and Thunder. “I’m opening the door to retrieve and 
examine Bastien.”
Keeping a hand on Thunder, who was only slightly disturbed, Calli nodded. Her 
mind was with Thunder’s. She could keep him from fear.
The door opened soundlessly, and Jaquar, Alexa and Marian dragged Bastien out. 
He tried to move himself.
With a whoosh, a large hawk swooped into the stables. It lit on Bastien’s head.
“She says it’s his wild magic that makes him react so,” Alexa said.
She? Who?
Thunder stepped forward until he was nearly out of his stall and into the 
crowded corridor. Feycoocu.
“Feycoocu?” Calli asked.
“A magical shape-shifting being,” Marian said absently.
Oh. Of course.
The hawk pecked Bastien on the head. He yelped and grabbed at it. It flew away. 
Thunder followed it with his gaze. I would like to talk to the feycoocu.
Calli decided she wouldn’t. The day was rapidly becoming overwhelming with the 
huge input of information.
Bastien shook his head and stood, helped by the other three. “Gonna lie down,” 
he said in heavily slurred English. “Bed.”
“Let’s get you there,” Jaquar said.
Bastien rubbed his temples. “Horrible headache. When did you say this would wear 
off?”
“Always too reckless for your own good,” Alexa scolded.
He closed his eyes. “Oh, that’s bad. Can be nagged at in two languages. No. I 
don’t like this.”
Jaquar said, “I’ll get him back to your suite, Alexa. You two should brief Calli 
on what she needs to know about the Summoning, the Choosing and Bonding 
ceremony, and the Snap.”
None of that sounded good to Calli. But one thing she knew, she wasn’t drinking 
any potion.
 
We made good impression, Dark Lance said smugly.
Marrec had used the last of his energy and Power to groom every inch of his 
volaran, murmuring compliments with each stroke. He didn’t want Dark Lance to 
ever leave again. Now he leaned against his mount, breathing in musky fragrance 
and thanking the Song that Dark Lance was back.
All around him other Chevaliers, even Marshalls, lingered, spending more time 
with their volarans. Especially those who could mind-speak with their mounts, 
even if only a few images. Especially those who only had one volaran. Those like 
him.
He shuddered again at the remembrance of loss. Not just of his best companion, 
but of his entire future. He did well enough with horses, but didn’t own any, 
didn’t know if he cared to. He’d have been penniless, with no decent way to 
support himself, if Dark Lance hadn’t returned. He hadn’t truly faced that fact 
until the volaran was gone.
One of the female Chevaliers sobbed, and Marrec had to gulp hard.
Cheek stings. 
“What!” Marrec straightened, went to Dark Lance’s head.
Yours. 
“Oh. Yes.” He pulled out the tube Bastien had given him, opened it and dabbed 
healing cream on his face. He chanted one chorus of a spell and the hurt 
diminished. That was different, too. Usually it would have taken three verses to 
repair the light soul-sucker wounds. He rubbed his hand over his cheek. No 
bumps.
More Power. 
“Yes.”
More Power means more status. 
“I hope so.” He cleared his throat and asked what he’d heard whispered in many 
stalls around him. Will you go away again?
No. Head Stallion called. I obeyed. Back here now. 
“Thank you,” Marrec repeated.
We together. 
“Yes.” He wanted to ask why the volarans had left and why they’d returned, hear 
the answers for himself, but Dark Lance’s mind-tone had been forbidding.
Rustling came from several stalls. Some of the Chevaliers were going to sleep 
with their volarans. Because they were afraid the winged horses would fly away 
again? He was torn, he wanted to stay, for the sheer comfort of Dark Lance’s 
presence. But if he did, he’d show the volaran he didn’t trust him.
After one last rub, Marrec left. He had to tally up his zhiv, plan for the 
future. See how long it would take to accumulate enough to buy a small piece of 
land in the north.
 
The tasty dinner Calli was tucking into seemed real, too. So far the normal 
things her senses understood—grooming, eating, peeing, made what she was 
experiencing real. But the strange events outweighed them. Falling through the 
crystal, waking up healed, moving without pain after a nap, hearing folks speak 
a different language.
Flying on a winged horse.
That had been the best.
As the plates were whisked away by Alexa’s serving woman, Calli studied her 
fork.
“We believe there’s always been sharing between our culture and Lladrana,” 
Marian said.
“Yes,” Alexa said, wiping her mouth with her napkin. “There have been Exotiques 
Summoned before, but not for a century.”
“I’m working on a Lorebook,” Marian said. “That’s what they call their reference 
volumes here. Lorebook on building Towers. Lorebook of Community Rules.” She 
made a face. “Before I started my own work, the Lorebook of Exotiques was a 
short one-page list.”
Alexa grunted. When Calli met her eyes, the Marshall held her gaze and said, 
“Lorebook on Summoning. Lorebook on Monsters.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Calli said. “To fight monsters.”
“That’s why we’re all here,” Marian said. “We were Summoned here by the 
Marshalls, and you by the Marshalls and Chevaliers, because the Song said we 
could vanquish the invading Dark. The dimensional corridor that links Earth and 
Lladrana is close. We deduce that there will be six of us Summoned.”
“So that’s the Summoning. Understand?” Alexa asked.
“Why me?” Calli asked.
Marian answered, “The Chevaliers had specifications of the qualities that they 
wanted in their Exotique, particularly after the volarans left. The Summoning 
would only be heard by a person who matched their needs—you.”
Alexa said, “During the Summoning ceremony, the Song is sent back in time on 
Earth to find and prepare a person to come to Lladrana.” She waved a hand. 
“Don’t suppose you heard chants and chimes and a gong over the last month, did 
you?”
Calli fell back against the plush dining-room chair.
“Thought so.” Alexa smiled.
“So you have all the qualities the Chevaliers wanted—someone the volarans would 
love, courage, determination.” Marian waved a hand. “You’re flexible in mind to 
accept the Summoning, probably don’t have deep emotional ties to Earth—” Calli 
kept her mouth shut “—or would consider staying permanently in Lladrana.”
“Fighting monsters, I don’t think so.” Calli crossed her arms. “Assuming I’m not 
in a coma from banging my head against that crystal.”
“What crystal?” Marian started.
“Stay on topic,” Alexa said.
Alexa stood. Her deliberate movements kept Calli watching her. She walked to the 
far corner of the room, where the wall separating the bathroom met the curving 
outer wall of the tower. Slowly she pulled her baton from her sheath. Green jade 
glowed above and below her fingers. The top of the wand had sculpted bronze 
flames. Nerves jittered under Calli’s skin.
“Calli, call it to you.”
Her breath stuck in her chest. “What?”
“Want the baton in your hand. Feel it in your hand. Reach out and say, ‘Baton!’”
“I don’t think—”
Coward. It came in her mind. In stereo. Alexa and Marian.
“You can do it,” Marian said.
“Why would I want to?” But she rose slowly and faced Alexa.
“Why not?” Alexa’s smile dared her. “Especially if it’s only a coma-dream.”
Marian frowned. “I’m not sure people in comas dre—”
“On topic, Marian.”
The atmosphere of the room became heavy and charged. It wasn’t only Alexa’s and 
Marian’s minds brushing hers, but Thunder’s and other volarans’, some people’s 
linked to them, too. All added to the anticipatory pressure around her.
“Fine. Baton, come!” Calli ordered.
It flew across the room and slapped into her open hand, stinging. And everything 
took on a solid reality that she couldn’t deny, as if her mind, her body, 
completely focused. The baton belonged to Alexa, vibrated like Alexa, but was 
real and solid in Calli’s hands. And magical. There was a force within it that 
compelled her to believe, to face the fact that she was no longer in Colorado, 
on Earth, like a door slamming shut behind her.
New place, new rules.
Before her eyes the metal flames atop the stick bloomed into real fire. She 
dropped it. Instead of hitting the ground, it shot back to Alexa, who sheathed 
it at her left hip. “There, you see? You have great magic. That’s another reason 
you’re here. We all have great magic. Cool, huh?”
“Magic,” Calli repeated.
Marian joined her. “Look.” She pulled a finger-length wand from her sleeve. 
Flicked it, it became larger, flipped it in her hand and flicked it again and 
the wand elongated into a walking staff. Calli’s mouth fell open.
“We all have magic here,” Marian repeated. “We have magic on Earth, too, it’s 
just very hard to access it. Earth is also a more visual culture. The Songs 
can’t be heard or Sung as easily.”
Alexa went to a love seat, sat and crossed her ankles. “I wouldn’t know. I 
didn’t return to Earth when the Snap came.”
Calli’s knees went weak and she crumpled into her chair. There was another one 
of those strange phrases.
At that moment a white, long-haired cat strolled in from the bathroom. Calli 
stared. She could have sworn the door was shut.
“A cat from my past. Actually, my magical shape-shifting feycoocu companion.” 
Alexa grimaced. “A cat. I hate when this happens. You get nothing out of a cat.”
Marian sighed.
The cat went up to Alexa, stropped her ankles and began a purr that only 
increased as it leaped onto Calli’s lap. It turned around a few times and 
settled. Calli found herself petting it. Its fur was as soft as volaran 
feathers, and she felt oddly comforted. “The Snap?” She managed a squeak.
Drawing up a chair next to Calli, Marian said, “At some point in time, Mother 
Earth will call to you, strongly enough to pull you back home. You’ll have a 
choice to stay or go.”
“When?”
“No one knows,” Marian said. “There isn’t enough data for a hypothesis. Perhaps 
after you experience it…”
Alexa said, “We do know that time passes the same here as on Earth. If you’re 
here for, say, three months, the same amount of time has transpired in 
Colorado.”
“The ranch!” She’d lose the ranch. Her dad would think she’d just walked away. 
Her fingers tightened in the cat fur. The feline grumbled.
“Sorry.”
The cat jumped down and went to sit in the middle of the floor and groom.
Calli wouldn’t walk away from the ranch, but her dad would think her cowardly 
enough to do so, dammit.
Both the women appeared sympathetic.
“The shortest amount of time before the Snap came was two weeks, the longest was 
seven years and three months, the average is about two months,” Marian said.
Two months.
Alexa smiled. “We have examples of the Bonding ceremony—” she waved at Marian 
“—and the Choosing and Bonding ceremony, an older Marshall Pair, coming later.”
“This is the marriage thing?” Calli asked, attention diverted from her dad and 
the ranch.
“Yeah.”
“I’d like coffee,” Calli said, going to the sideboard. She made the drink dark 
and sweet.
Alexa cleared her throat and sat, but didn’t relax. “You know that the 
Chevaliers want you to stay. It’s easier for a person to stay if you’re paired 
or bonded—”
“Involved with someone,” Marian said, “but to be precise, they don’t have just a 
Pairing ceremony in mind.” She tilted her head. “I think a Pairing would 
correspond to an affair and engagement.”
“Yeah,” Alexa said. “They want you to agree to a coeurdechain, which is like 
soul melding or something.”
Marian chuckled and her eyes went dreamy. “It’s more.”
“But they want a quick marriage, and to do that, they’re willing to use, uh—” 
She threw a look at Marian.
“Another magical ritual,” Marian said. “I blood-bonded with my tutor, and also 
with Alexa. Then Jaquar and I decided we wanted the whole deal, minds, souls, 
bodies.”
“Huh!” Calli said.
“The upside is that we’re very close. Neither of us are lonely. We’re partners 
in the truest sense of the word.”
“The downside?” Calli asked.
“We’ll die at the same time,” Marian said.
Alexa stood and paced the room, hand on her baton. Finally she turned and 
skewered Calli with a gaze. “You want to be a horse-volaran trainer. That’s 
doable. You want land. That’s easy, too. But there must be something more, some 
bigger reason that the Song resonated with you and called you and made you a 
perfect person for Summoning. An emotional reason. What do you really want, 
Calli?”
The demand had words slipping from her mouth, “To be loved.” She had to look 
away from the two very beloved women while heat painted her cheeks, her neck, 
even her ears hidden under her hair. Hell, she hadn’t blushed in a long, long 
time, and now she had twice in one day. She decided to continue with brutal 
honesty. “And to have a family of my own. Children of my own.” Pretending not to 
see the glance exchanged between the other two, she upended her mug, drank and 
set the mug aside. “And even Lladrana and all its medicas can’t give me 
children. The infection from one of the surgeries took my ovaries.”
“It isn’t common that Lladranan and Exotique couples produce children,” Alexa 
said. “I don’t think Bastien and I will ever have any.”
Calli whipped her gaze to Alexa, then to Marian. “Your guy, Jaquar, he has blue 
eyes—”
“Yes,” Marian said. “He has some Exotique blood in his lineage. Whose or when, 
we don’t know.” Her aura spiked green.
“Bastien and I will just have to adopt,” Alexa gave Calli a direct look. 
“Wouldn’t that be good enough for you? Or being a cowgirl you gotta have the 
right equipment and bloodlines and breeding and all that jazz?”
No. It was as if a note had echoed throughout her being. She didn’t have to give 
birth to children of her own. Children who loved her would be enough. Feeling 
uncomfortably vulnerable, Calli said, “Drop it.”
“If you want pedigree—” Alexa swept a hand around them “—you’re out of luck. 
You’ve landed in with a motley crew. I don’t know my ancestors, grew up in 
foster care. Bastien’s a black-and-white, which can mean mentally handicapped, 
and his father was an asshole.”
“My mother’s a bitch,” said Marian. “My brother’s a jewel, though.” She looked 
thoughtful. “He came with me…sort of…If you don’t reject the Choosing and 
Bonding ceremony, he might be right for you. The Song might have led him here 
for you.”
“She should stick with Faucon Creusse. Noble, rich, sexy and handsome.” Alexa 
wiggled her brows. “What’s not to like?”
“Tell me about the Claiming and Bonding ceremony,” demanded Calli. She’d backed 
up against the bar.
“That’s what we were getting at. Magic…Power…the Song, choosing the right guy 
for you.” Alexa waved her hands.
“You want love?” Marian joined Alexa to face Calli. “What if I told you there’s 
a surefire way to find the right man for you? Your soul mate?”
Calli’s heart thumped hard. A man who would love her. A man she would love. Was 
she really ready for that, despite what she yearned for most?
Marian spread her arms wide, and the gesture emphasized the rich robe she wore, 
the Circlet around her forehead, the expensive surroundings. “What do you want, 
Calli? True love? There are plenty of Chevaliers ready to bond with you—men and 
women of like mind with you. Land of your own? You’ll get it.” She laughed a 
little. “Children? Unfortunately Lladrana is like Earth…there are abandoned 
children you can make into a family. Volarans? I think you can have as many 
volarans as you want.”
“They are their own,” Calli protested, but vividly recalled the horse bodies 
pressing against her.
She’d never be lonely again.
She remembered the Map Room, the unclaimed land.
She thought of Faucon Creusse, all too willing to be her lover at any moment. 
Already. That was a little scary. He had to want her just because of what she 
was and not who she was. He didn’t know her.
But this notion was a little tempting, too. A magical ceremony could bring her a 
guy? Some sort of matchmaking deal? Intriguing. Especially since after her 
disastrous illusions about her father, she didn’t trust her own judgment worth 
spit.
She thought of children. With a big ranch, she could have many.
Finally, an image of a flying volaran herd circled in her mind’s eye. Wings of 
all colors, equine faces looking to her. She could almost hear the wind rush 
through thousands of feathers.
When she glanced at Marian and Alexa, they were glowing with the golden aura of 
love. Love given and received with their men. Friendship love between them. They 
liked her already; could they become good friends? With these women there would 
be no competition between them, no moving around that meant brief and broken 
ties, like in the rodeo.
The room wavered before her as if behind a rich haze. She’d be rich and valued 
and respected and would own land. And love would come into her life.
Grabbing her mug, she filled it again and went to a wing chair. “What about this 
magical ceremony?”
8 
T he sound of strumming strings came once. “That’s the doorharp,” Marian said.
Calli remembered seeing something like half an egg slicer mounted on the door.
When the door opened a huge man and much smaller woman entered. Just the sight 
of their strong, intertwined aura had Calli sitting down on a little sofa, 
blinking. They brought music with them. It was the strongest tune she’d heard 
from people, truly a Song with a capital S.
Alexa introduced the two Marshalls as Mace, the arms master, and his wife, Clua, 
who was a battle strategist.
“You know, Calli, it would be much easier if you took just a drop of the 
potion,” Marian said, pulling the little bottle from her robe pocket.
Calli wondered if it was the same bottle or if she and Jaquar had concocted a 
large batch. She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
Silvery laughter came from Clua. Mace stroked his wife’s hair. They were still 
holding hands. With a kiss on their linked fingers, the woman walked toward 
Calli, face welcoming, hands outstretched.
Their aura didn’t break apart, but stretched, and in stretching, remained the 
same deep gold color and thickness. It was as if wherever they went singly, they 
would still keep the same strong and intimate connection with each other. 
Awesome.
Automatically, Calli took Clua’s hands.
An image of a calendar flipped pages going back. Years. Calli was swept into the 
past, experiencing the Choosing ceremony of Clua and Mace.
The first thing she noticed was that she felt woozy, dizzy. A hand—her 
hand?—passed a goblet to someone and she noticed an aftertaste in her mouth. 
Another emotion swept her, anticipation at the Choosing, then, as she looked 
around a large room with stone walls—her Power amplified. Her eyes were sharper, 
her eardrums nearly exploding with the loud tangle of personal Songs.
She looked down at a table at a variety of items. A beret—nothing Calli had seen 
so far in this world, old-fashioned?—a quill pen, a book, a small carved 
volaran, a locket, a chain with keys, a brooch. She touched each and received 
impressions of the person who’d placed it on the table. Each time, she saw a 
colored link connecting the person to the object. Sometimes that connection was 
a thread, sometimes a cord. Once a chain. Just as the melodies she heard varied 
in strength and prettiness—a whisper of a tune too simple to please; a loud, 
intricately layered Song that pulled at her, awakened feelings deep in her core.
Her hand hovered over a locket. An oblong thing of gold, inset with black with a 
diamond in the center. She brushed her fingers across it and felt a surge of 
desire, longing, be- longing from it. Looking up, she saw a huge young man 
dressed in a short velvet robe and tights, arms crossed, staring at her. She 
couldn’t look away.
He was too big, too tough, too sophisticated for her.
Forcing herself to withdraw her fingers, she turned to the other tokens.
Nothing felt as right as the locket.
Time telescoped and Calli was able to distance herself a bit from the experience 
and feel the woman’s fingers clamped over hers in the here and now.
She watched as if hovering outside of herself—like she’d done in a couple of the 
surgeries—while Clua tested each item time and again, then finally listened to 
the rush of her blood and heart and bone and took the locket.
A shout of celebration rose from many voices—her family—and Mace literally 
leaped over people to claim her.
Clua let go of Calli’s hands. Calli staggered back to sink onto the sofa. “Oh. 
My. God,” she said, even as she heard the Marshalls leaving, Clua chuckling.
“Wow,” said Marian, sitting beside her. “Tell us what happened. Magical ritual, 
right? From what I can tell, I don’t think Clua ever wrote down the story for 
the Lorebook of Choosing and Bonding. She hadn’t ever met Mace before, that I 
have heard. But for the record, I’ll need every detail from you!”
“Marian, shut up,” said Alexa, wriggling in on Calli’s other side. It was a 
tight fit. Alexa stroked her back and the affectionate caress seemed to draw the 
stunning magic from Calli until she breathed steadily again. “Calli, you need to 
watch out how you touch people,” Alexa said.
“Tell me about it.”
“Sometimes they don’t mean to sucker punch you, sometimes they do, but we’ve all 
had an experience like that.”
Marian said, “I still want to hear every detail. What were the circumstances? 
Did the Choosing work? Well, duh! Obviously. How did it work? Was the magic very 
strong?”
“Yeah,” Calli said, shaking off the last of the weird feeling that she was 
living two lives in two different times. She rubbed her face, then dropped her 
hands and straightened to glare at Marian. “I’ll be drugged!”
“I promise you, you’ll be fine,” Marian soothed. She went to a bookshelf and 
curved her fingers around empty air, hummed a few notes. A thin book appeared in 
her hands. “This is the English version of the Lorebook of Exotiques. I’ve got 
the recipe here, all herbs we know except for one.” She flipped pages as she 
walked back. “And I’ve had that particular herb twice in larger amounts than 
you’ll receive. I’m still here, alive and kicking.” She found the entry and 
handed the book to Calli. “Look for yourself.”
Calli did. “Cinnamon, nutmeg, mugwort, bay. Rose petals?”
Marian nodded.
Staring at the page she saw another ingredient. “Centauriana,” she murmured. 
Another horse word. Almost like a sign.
Calli felt as if a stampede had galloped right over her. “I need to go to bed.”
“Can I tell the Chevaliers that you’ll go through with the Choosing and Bonding 
ceremony tomorrow afternoon?” Alexa pressed.
Exhaustion dropped on Calli like a thick horse blanket, smothering logical 
thought. Her vision blurred. When she blinked, everything still seemed out of 
focus. Sounds—more, music—enveloped her, running through her mind, preeminent 
among the strains was the tune of the Marshall Pair. They’d been so obviously a 
couple, obviously in love, and after many years. They believed in the Ritual.
Blinking again, she stared at Alexa and Marian who waited for her decision. 
Tonight both of these women would go to bed with men who loved them, were 
committed to them.
Loneliness ate at Calli, along with envy. A matchmaking ritual. The idea 
tempted. Her own judgment was lousy, and Alexa and Marian had found their loves 
on Lladrana, so why couldn’t she? What she’d seen of the couples, here…And magic 
worked. What the hell. Why not? What did she have to lose? “Sure, set it up.”
They smiled and came toward her, hugged her and the three of them linked and a 
huge Song filled Calli’s ears and traveled to her heart.
“The Song of Colorado women,” Marian whispered.
“See you tomorrow morning,” Alexa said. Both women left their arms around 
Calli’s waist.
Marian said, “Remember you aren’t alone. We’re here to help every step of the 
way. Don’t panic.”
“Just yell and we’ll come running.”
“Huh. Sounds like you’re trying to tell me something,” Calli said.
“I panicked,” Marian said.
“I did, too, especially when I saw my hair turned white overnight.”
Sleepiness fled. Calli looked down at Alexa. “Really?”
“Yes.”
Then Calli studied the wide silver streak in Marian’s hair. “I suppose you 
didn’t have that when you came, either?”
“Lladrana can be tough on hair color,” Marian said.
“I like being blond.”
“Hey, another reason to stay here.” Alexa grinned. “No dumb-blonde jokes.”
That just reminded Calli that her father thought her stupid and cowardly. She 
tensed. The other women noticed, of course.
“Sore spot? I’m sorry,” Alexa said, squeezing her into a tighter hug. The 
woman’s grip was like iron.
“I definitely need to get to bed,” Calli said.
“Right.” Alexa withdrew and marched to the door.
The short walk was silent, but the quiet between them was easy. Calli hadn’t had 
good female friends since high school. Nice to be part of a girl crowd.
Alexa opened the outer door of Calli’s suite and kissed her cheek, so did 
Marian.
“Thanks, guys.” Calli’s voice was hoarse with appreciation, weariness. She 
entered a narrow security corridor and turned left until she found another door, 
a tiny entryway and a third door, and finally got into the bedroom. Soft light 
glowed with the radiance of a summer evening from what looked like little suns 
on torches. Pulling off her boots and stripping, Calli slid into cool sheets. 
The lights went out and Calli fell into welcoming darkness.
She woke to hail pounding against the curved tower windows in the middle of the 
night and shot straight up in bed—a big four-poster bed with curtains. Weird.
She was still in Lladrana. Carefully, she stretched, and found her muscles in 
prime working order. Wiggling her hips, she tested her pelvis. Fine.
Oh, man.
Did she even want to wake up at home? At least the problems here were new, 
didn’t seem as crushing as fighting her father for her home and her vision of 
the ranch. That would take a lot of money and effort to win. More money to fix 
up the ranch the way she wanted.
If she was stuck here, what had she gotten herself into with that damn Choosing 
and Bonding ceremony? Dare she trust the “magic” to find her a man who’d match 
her? What was she thinking. Was she totally crazy?
But those Marshalls—Mace and Clua—had been the most married couple she’d ever 
seen. Like Marian and Jaquar, they’d die together. She trembled. Could she 
possibly want that much connection?
That much love?
Yes.
This need to give and receive love came from deep inside. As if all the love 
she’d poured onto her father over the years had bounced off him and come back to 
her and she had this great store.
Getting up, she found her clothes washed and folded on a chest at the end of the 
bed and just stared at them. Someone had been in her rooms? Who had the key?
Surely it would only have been Alexa or Marian checking on her. Still, the 
sooner she had her own rooms and key, the better. Next to her things was a stack 
of underwear. In her size. Must be magic, there, too—she touched her old 
clothes, noticing the texture of denim and cotton. Alien to this world.
She turned, staggered back at the sight of a small neon-blue volaran hovering 
near the corner of one of the bed’s foot posts. The animal was only about a foot 
long.
She pressed a hand against her pounding heart. “My God, you startled me!” She 
knew this…person. The energy of the being was familiar. There was her sixth 
sense again and she disliked how much she was depending upon it.
I am Sinafinal, the feycoocu. 
Of course she was. Staring at the creature, she realized she’d seen it before. 
As a hawk. As the cat. Calli sat on the chest.
You are not crazy. You are on Lladrana. You should go through the Choosing and 
Bonding ceremony.
“And I should listen to you, too, huh?”
Yes. The volaran loop-de-looped a couple of times, leaving a bright blue trail 
behind her.
“Why—”
You should stay here on Lladrana. Here you will have a love of your own, 
children, land, a home. 
“Guaranteed?” Calli infused great sarcasm into the word.
Sinafinal fluttered up to within six inches of Calli’s eyes and hung there. Yes, 
guaranteed.
Calli’s stomach clutched.
Everyone wants to be loved. Why do you see your big heart as being a fault? 
Because Dad never valued love? This introspection was getting too damn intense. 
She didn’t like it. She preferred action.
By this time tomorrow night you will be sharing a big bed with a lover, a man 
drawn particularly to you. 
“Uhn.” That idea was so good it hurt. Made Calli’s chest ache.
When you both awake the next morning, you will choose your land. You will have 
enough zhiv from the land and an annuity as an Exotique that you will never want 
for any material thing for the rest of your life. Enough to build the perfect 
stables and training grounds for horses and volarans. 
The little volaran was sure spinning a sweet story.
In three weeks you will have adopted a child. 
Calli flopped back, banged her head on the wooden footboard behind her. “Ouch! 
Dammit all!”
Sinafinal zoomed over and perched on her head, Calli could feel four little 
hooves, and goose bumps covered her body. With two flaps of the magical being’s 
wings, Calli’s headache was gone. Oh, boy. She rubbed the back of her head 
anyway. “Why are you being so insistent about this?”
Because without you, the volarans will not bond as much as needed with humans. 
They won’t be ready for the great, final fight. 
Calli swallowed. “Who won’t be ready? What final fight?”
There will be much more loss of life. 
“I don’t want to hear this.”
That’s why I am telling you. 
I don’t want to believe you. Though she hadn’t said the words aloud, the 
feycoocu answered her anyway.
I know. 
“Hell.”
The neon-blue volaran examined one of her wingtips. If you do not believe me and 
do not continue with the Choosing and Bonding ritual, I will convince everyone 
that you should consult the Singer for a Song Quest. Perhaps a strong vision 
direct from the Song will be powerful enough to convince you of your worth here.
Ooooh. Zinged several hot buttons all right. “Damned if I do, damned if I 
don’t,” Calli muttered. “This had better be a dream.”
It isn’t. You will awake here. The little blue volaran’s muzzle stretched in an 
unnatural smile.
“Go away. I’m planning on waking up in my own bed on the Rocking Bar T.” But it 
sounded weaker and weaker to her.
Sinafinal circled the room. All the Exotiques will have companions. Alexa has 
me. Marian has Tuckerinal. You have Thunder.
Calli snorted. “Sidekicks. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m going to bed. I hope not to see 
you in my dreams.”
Sinafinal dipped a wing and flew through a closed window into the night.
Calli looked out at the darkness below—no lights. She looked at the moon and 
star-bright sky. Not Earth’s sky, not even from the southern hemisphere, too 
many stars for that. She shrugged. When she woke she’d either be home or not. If 
she was here, the day would be packed with fateful events from the moment she 
opened her eyes.
9 
C alli woke and stretched luxuriously. The bed was wonderful, too bad she was 
alone in it. She must be treating herself to a good hotel near the next 
competition…everything rushed back.
She was in Lladrana. Or at least she wasn’t in her own bed back at the ranch. 
What was written in those old-time black-and-white movies? “Meanwhile, back at 
the ranch…” A hollow laugh rasped from her. What little peace she’d felt when 
she woke up vanished.
But there were compensations. She walked from the bedroom to the den where she 
could see the Landing Field. A couple of volarans and riders were already out, 
lifting their wings and soaring. Her breath caught at the beauty.
That could be her…flying into the dawn. She watched until they diminished into 
specks and she became aware of standing naked in a strangely furnished den—with 
books and scrolls in an alphabet she couldn’t read.
Her breath came in short bursts and she felt the way she did just before a race, 
scared and excited and determined. She’d get through this day and the one after 
that…Back in the bedroom, she dressed near the windows. The only person who’d 
see her would be riding volaran-back and she’d see them first.
Lladrana. Fabulous flying horses. Horrible monsters. Nobody had talked much 
about the monsters she’d be expected to fight. Trying to keep the really bad 
downside of this life low key. Her stomach clenched. As if they could. As if she 
hadn’t seen wisps of them in Alexa’s mind, in Bastien’s and Jaquar’s and in 
Marian’s—a man with tentacles on his face reeking of evil power. Yeah, she had 
inklings. Enough that it made her pace, unready to open the door and explore on 
her own. Silly, but with a day full of such strange and magical experiences as 
the day before, she intended to be cautious.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch…what would her dad be doing? Thinking she’d run 
somewhere, no doubt. He wouldn’t gloat. That would take too much emotion, show 
too much an investment in her, which he didn’t have.
The doorharp rippled, and Marian’s projected tones said, “Calli, ready for 
breakfast?”
Calli didn’t answer.
“Think she’ll drink a language potion this morning?” Marian asked.
“Not a chance. Besides, if she doesn’t back out of that Choosing and Bonding 
ceremony, she’ll get the language transfer in bed.” There was a lilt in Alexa’s 
voice.
Calli decided she didn’t like being talked about. The two women were probably 
not going away. She opened the door. Standing before her, looking perfectly 
fresh, were Alexa and Marian; near their feet were two small greyhounds.
Salutations, Calli, said one. Sinafinal.
Salutations, Calli, said the other. I am Tuckerinal.
“Tuck’s my ex-hamster,” said Marian. “He’s a feycoocu like that one.” She 
pointed to Sinafinal.
I have given her my name so she can call on me at any time, said Sinafinal, my 
mated name.
Marian grinned and kissed Calli on the cheek. “Good morning. You should know 
that only a few people know Sinafinal’s name. Only Alexa and Bastien of the 
Marshalls. Only Jaquar and I of the Circlets.”
“Huh,” Calli said. Two minutes on the threshold of her room and stuff was 
overwhelming her again. Magical hamsters. Sheesh.
“You really are in a different dimension.” Alexa looked sympathetic. “You slept. 
Let’s go eat.”
“Try not to drop too many more bombs on me, huh?” Calli said. Alexa opened her 
mouth, closed it, but Calli figured they were probably thinking the same thing. 
In circumstances like these she’d be getting hit with strange problems every 
hour.
She ate in the richly paneled Marshalls’ Dining Room, set up like one of the 
fanciest restaurants she’d ever seen—pastel tablecloths on round and rectangular 
tables, embroidered in rich colors, with matching napkins. Crystal. Fine china.
She had a great breakfast of a cheese omelette, bacon and fluffy croissants, and 
chuckled to herself. Something French she was addicted to, the cowgirl loved 
croissants, one of the ways she chose her restaurants on the rodeo circuit. 
She’d eaten everything from preprepared, frozen, grocery store-bought croissants 
to flaky ribbons of pastry steaming from the oven.
These were prime.
“I guess we should tell her about the men,” Alexa said to Marian.
“Thank you, but I’ve learned about men all by myself.” Calli didn’t look up from 
her meal.
“What about men?” Marian sounded puzzled.
Calli caught Alexa’s gesture from the edge of her vision. She could feel the 
Marshalls’ gazes boring into her, their curiosity surging around her. The chief 
honcho, Thealia Germaine, sat at the long table a few chairs down from them, 
watching, as if trying to puzzle out their conversation. Calli knew if she 
bolted, Thealia would be on her and have her hog-tied in an instant. The 
Marshalls took a deep interest in her, the Chevalier Exotique.
“Lladranan men, like Faucon and Luthan,” Alexa said.
As she recognized the handsome Chevalier’s name she’d seen before, Faucon, a 
thrill zipped down Calli’s spine. Would she be in bed with him by the time night 
fell? “And I think I’ll know a lot about Lladranan men by tomorrow morning.” Did 
she actually say that?
Alexa snickered. Marian touched Calli’s shoulder. “This is important. A certain 
proportion of the Lladranan population find you—us—Exotiques, instinctively 
repulsive or attractive.”
“Might be pheromones.” Alexa bit into a slice of toast.
“Interesting idea,” Marian said.
“With your coloring, blond hair and blue eyes, you’re even more Exotique than 
either of us,” Alexa said.
Calli didn’t think so. Alexa was little and had green eyes, Marian auburn hair 
and blue eyes. “Faucon and Luthan?” Now that she recalled her meeting with 
Faucon last night in the stables, she remembered odd fluctuations in his aura. 
Was that why Bastien had moved him along, because Faucon was more blinded by her 
“Exotiqueness” than interested in her as a person?
“Faucon is attracted to Exotiques. Luthan, Bastien’s brother, is repulsed. 
You’ll work with both of them. They should be here this morning to meet you.”
“They are,” Marian murmured. She waved to three men who stood and approached.
“Who’s the third?” Calli asked.
“My brother Koz.” Marian hesitated. “His mind and soul and emotions are my 
brother Andrew in a Lladranan body.”
Calli thought her mouth dropped wide open. She didn’t know that she liked the 
idea of different bodies and souls.
Marian said, “It’s a long story. We should have just given you our Lorebooks. 
The Lorebooks of Exotique Alexa and the Lorebook of Exotique Marian, where Alexa 
and I wrote down our experiences.”
“Thank you, and that might have worked best for you and Alexa, but I liked, 
like, having things explained personally.” Calli turned her gaze to Alexa. 
“Thank you for being here. It’s been a great help.”
Alexa pinkened.
At that moment the guy wearing pure white leathers stopped, held himself 
stiffly, shuddered, then drew a deep breath. His lips thinned as if in anger and 
disgust and Calli knew Alexa was right. The man didn’t like that he had this 
response to Exotiques. That he was less than perfect? Or that he saw himself 
less than a normal Lladranan?
Faucon pulled ahead of the other two, a twinkle in his eye. At least he didn’t 
have a dumb-ass stupid dazed and infatuated look on his face. So he controlled 
his “innate attraction” to some extent, too. Interesting.
Koz caught up with Faucon. Luthan drew near more slowly.
When he and Koz neared the table, Faucon stepped in front of the other man, 
bowed and said the same thing he had the night before. “Prie introd moi?”
Alexa shoved back her chair and stood. Calli figured breakfast was over and 
swallowed her last luscious bite of croissant. She’d have to make sure the 
Chevaliers’ Dining Room in Horseshoe Hall had the same quality. And that idea 
about stopped her heart. She was planning.
For a life on Lladrana.
A teeny plan, but it had risen to her mind naturally and that was a little 
scary.
She put her utensils down carefully, then stood herself.
“Callista Torcher, I’d like to present Faucon Creusse, an excellent volaran 
rider and Chevalier. A wealthy, noble landowner and all-around great guy,” Alexa 
said.
Faucon took one of Calli’s limp hands and raised it to his lips. He brushed a 
kiss on the back and she felt a definite tingle and a couple of musical notes 
sounded in her head. Maybe things were looking up. He said something in a 
liquid, caressing tone. Since his eyes had heated, she thought it must be 
complimentary.
“Hey, ladies,” Koz said in accented English, jostling Faucon down a couple of 
seats. The other man scowled at Koz’s use of English.
Marian cleared her throat. Her aura was a little spiky. “Calli, my brother Koz 
Perrin, late of San Mateo, California. Koz, Calli Torcher of the Rocking Bar T 
Ranch, Colorado.”
He grinned, showing white, even teeth, and held out his hand as if to shake. 
Calli grasped his and felt a tiny stirring, a little “plink” like one key struck 
on a piano. “When you get your ranch here, you’ll have to call it the Flying Bar 
T.”
She laughed and shook his hand. She liked him.
Marian rose. Koz hugged his sister, ruffled her hair. “So, what’s up?”
“We’re going shopping in Castleton,” Alexa said. “Measuring Calli for several 
pair of leathers, some chain mail—it’s magically light—and buying whatever else 
strikes our fancy.”
“Man, here or there, women are all the same.” Koz grimaced. When Faucon asked a 
question, Koz turned to him and translated. Faucon put a hand on his heart and 
inclined his torso, speaking.
“Girls only!” Alexa said.
Koz smiled again. “Too bad.” But when he relayed the information to Faucon, that 
man sighed and sat at the table.
“Isn’t this the Marshalls’ Dining Room?” Calli asked, stepping into the aisle 
behind Alexa as she walked to the door.
“Yes, but Luthan is the representative of the Singer and wealthy. And Koz was 
looking for his sister, who is a Circlet and in the company of a Marshall,” 
Alexa said.
“So, I suppose I’ll also have a special dispensation to eat here, too.” Calli 
thought of the croissants.
“For sure.” Alexa smiled ironically. “I can promise you that the Marshalls will 
want to grill you from time to time.”
“Wonderful.”
Marian said, “Both Faucon and Koz will be at your Choosing.”
Calli swallowed, but she listened to the women’s stories of attraction/repulsion 
experiences and how Koz came to be Lladranan as they walked to the stables.
Calli had insisted on checking on Thunder and giving him a treat of a juicy 
apple. When he nuzzled her and she stroked his neck, breathing in the amber 
scent of volaran, ran a finger down some wing feathers, once again she thought 
she could accept this place.
“Shopping!” Marian called from outside the stables.
“I want to fly with you,” Calli whispered to Thunder. “But I don’t like the 
tack. I’ll order something different in town.”
He whickered. I am Volaran Valley born. I do not like the tack, either. Thank 
you. I love you.
With one last rub of his nose, she stepped away, blinking. Stupid tears. Her 
throat was tight, too. She repeated the image he’d sent to her of a beating 
heart. I love you.
Alexa kicked the dirt, sighed. “This mutual admiration society meeting done?”
Turning, Calli forced a smile and found it came easier than she’d thought at the 
wariness she saw on Alexa’s face when she looked at Thunder. “Hey, I’m the 
Exotique Summoned for the volarans. I know and love them, and they adore me.” 
She said it, knowing it was true.
“Yeah, yeah.” Alexa waved and took off at a brisk pace.
“What do you have against volarans?” asked Calli.
“I didn’t ride before I came.”
“City girl.”
“You got it. And since—” she scowled at the stables “—I’ve broken both my arms 
twice, I don’t care for flying. I. Fall. Off.”
“Oh.”
“I know you’re laughing.”
Calli cleared her throat. “Did it occur to you that you might have better luck 
with different tack?”
Alexa slanted her a surprised look. “City girl. No.” But she appeared to be 
considering, and her expression lightened.
Calli, Marian and Alexa walked from the stables through Horseshoe Close and the 
Chevaliers who were in the courtyard all stopped and stared at them, many 
bowing. Calli followed Alexa’s lead and nodded to them.
The walk down to Castleton was pretty and she found the town just that, an odd 
little place that wasn’t quite a city, definitely nothing like Old West ghost 
towns she’d seen, or the old center of modern Western cities.
“More like late Renaissance or early industrial age than medieval,” Marian said.
“You should know. But I wasn’t thinking in medieval terms, either. I want to 
visit a blacksmith and tack and saddle maker first,” Calli said.
“Okay,” said Alexa.
“Why don’t you have blacksmiths and artisans up at the Castle?”
“We do.” Alexa shook her head. “But the best live in the city. Don’t want to be 
under the Marshalls’ and Chevaliers’ thumbs, I suppose.”
“And there’s the fact that until a couple of years ago the Marshalls and 
Chevaliers usually lived on their estates—before the fence posts began to fall 
and the situation became dire,” Marian said.
Calli sucked in a deep breath. “You’d better tell me about these monsters.”
“We’ll take you to the Nom de Nom,” Alexa said.
“The what?”
“The tavern where the Chevaliers hang out.”
“Oh,” Calli said.
“It has trophies…heads and other body parts,” said Marian.
“Oh.” The hollow tone was back in her voice, along with a nice sick feeling in 
her stomach. “I’m going to have to fight these things, right?”
“Right. But I think you’ll find you’re a natural,” Alexa said. “We’ll train 
you…and when you Choose and Bond with a Lladranan, you’ll become a fighting 
pair. A Sword for offense and a Shield for defense.” Alexa tapped her chest. 
“I’m a Sword, Bastien is my Shield. I fight with magic and magical weapons. He 
protects me magically. Here’s the saddle maker, right next to the smithy.”
Neither of those places looked like anything Calli had ever seen, though the 
inside of the small shop smelled like fine leather and wood. She spent some time 
drawing what she considered the perfect saddle, hackamore and other tack for the 
craftswoman who kept darting fascinated glances at her. It took twice the time 
it should have since neither Alexa nor Marian knew the proper Lladranan words 
for such specific items.
All of them watched the blacksmith for a time. Marian and Alexa seemed to like 
seeing how he worked with metal and magic. The heat sizzled around them.
Squinting up at the sun, Calli wiped her sleeve across her forehead. She judged 
the time as late morning.
“She needs a cowboy hat. A Stetson!” Alexa cried. “We all need cowboy hats! Oh, 
yeah, I can see us now. The Exotique Gang.” She did a little boogie and her 
boots kicked up dust. Then she lifted a foot. “And some of those excellent 
cowboy boots, worked in patterns and colors and stuff. We need to show these 
people our cultural heritage!”
Calli and Marian laughed together, and it felt really good to laugh with other 
women.
Marian gestured to her robe. “Can you see me in a cowboy hat and this?”
“Well, it can’t be any worse than that hat Bastien designed, which is all the 
rage.”
“And Jaquar wears the original all the time and looks like a dweeb. All too 
true.” Marian shook her head.
“It’s time you get tailored leathers, Marian. A cowboy hat and boots would 
complete the ensemble.”
Calli nudged Alexa with her elbow. “You ever had a cowboy hat, city-girl 
lawyer?”
Alexa scowled. “No, but only because I could never find one to fit me.”
She was awfully small. “You could have had one made to order.” Calli didn’t say 
she could have bought a girl’s size.
“Yeah, like I had the dough.” Alexa snorted, then jingled money—zhiv—in her 
pockets and beamed. “But I do now. I’m not leaving this place until I order a 
cowboy hat!” She frowned. “You have any idea how they make them or the design 
dimensions or what, Calli?”
“I’ve worn them all my life, had a few droop with rain, freeze with snow and 
generally get trampled under hooves. I think I can give the hatmaker a good idea 
of what we want.”
“Good, off to the leathers tailor,” Alexa said.
“Combat cuirtailleur,” Marian murmured. Catching Calli’s expression, she said, 
“The fighting-leathers tailor.” Her lips quirked. “Naturally Alexa patronizes 
only the best.”
“Oh,” Calli said. She walked with them three abreast on sidewalks along a 
spacious street, until they reached a large shop with wide windows. There she 
got measured for several sets of leathers and her blood chilled as she thought 
of fighting. Marian stood by and translated for her.
Calli pointed to a pile of “leather” squares on the counter. “What are these?”
Alexa glanced at them, went over and inspected the stack, flipped through and 
shoved each square at Calli. “Soul-sucker,” a thick gray lizard-like skin. 
“Slayer,” yellow with long yellow fur and strange round bare spots. “Render,” 
thick, tough skin with a black pelt the consistency of steel wool. “Snipper,” 
something like Calli suspected rhinoceros hide to be. “Dreeth,” a fine, thin but 
incredibly strong skin of fine snakelike scales “Dreeth?” Alexa looked up at the 
old, wizened tailor. “Where did you get dreeth? And how much do you have of it?”
He bowed deeply. “Your Shield, Bastien, brought it in. We have an 
understanding.”
“Serves me right for not paying attention,” Alexa muttered.
“I will have the Chevalier Exotique’s leathers ready by this evening.” He bowed 
again.
“Please send them to me at the Castle,” Alexa said, “and put them on my 
account.”
“I’ll pay you back!” Calli said when Marian translated.
Alexa shrugged, smiled and replied in English. “A gift. Many people will be 
giving you gifts to get in your good graces. Expect something from the 
Citymasters and the Singer, too. Let’s head to the Nom de Nom for lunch.”
“You’ll love it,” Marian said and Calli couldn’t tell whether that was being 
sarcastic or not.
10 
T hey walked up to a shabby, narrow stone building with a sign that changed 
magically from black letters on a white background to white letters on a black 
background.
This was the place that held monster trophies. Calli didn’t think she was ready, 
but it would be better getting used to dead monsters hanging on walls than live 
ones attacking.
Alexa said, “Acclimatizing you, Calli. The Nom de Nom is one of the main 
hangouts for the Chevaliers, so you’ll probably be spending plenty of time here. 
The trophies are in the upper third of the room. You might want to look up after 
we’ve settled in a booth.” She hesitated. “This place isn’t as bad as the 
Assayer’s Office. If you need to, uh, get more of an idea what you’ll be facing, 
you can go there.” She opened the door to the scent of smoke and food and 
liquor. “And there’s a back room you should see.”
The moment Calli walked in, conversation stopped. The place wasn’t packed, but 
the bar on her right was full, with Chevaliers leaning or sitting on stools. Of 
the five booths, two were taken. Alexa scowled at the couple in the last booth 
against the wall and they got up and moved to one closer to the door. A waitress 
hurried over to wipe the table.
All the Chevaliers watched Calli with considering gazes. Well, they were getting 
an eyeful of the Exotique they might want to mate with. Calli wondered if she’d 
find more or fewer tokens on the Choosing table after this visit.
A woman at the bar flinched, slipped from her seat and left.
Feeling self-conscious and wanting to get this “trophy” ordeal over with, Calli 
glanced up. Time seemed to stop and fear bubbled up her throat.
The first thing she saw was the torso of a snarling beast with spines on its 
arms. She tried to swallow but couldn’t pull her gaze away from the fierce glass 
eyes, the open muzzle that showed sharp, deadly teeth. Its fur was yellow, as 
was the underside of its digited paws. Yellow skin, yellow fur. Slayer.
Marian picked up one of Calli’s hands and curved her fingers around a mug 
handle. Her spit had dried, so she took a gulp, and cold, yeasty ale slid down 
her throat. She tore her gaze away to Marian who was gesturing for her to slide 
into the bench opposite Alexa, who faced the room. Calli decided that having 
people stare into the back of her head—her blond head—would feel better than 
meeting a stream of brown-eyed stares. She managed to pick one foot up after the 
other to get to the table and slide in on what seemed to be a red leather bench. 
Leather made from cows or something—not monster hide.
“I ordered burgers for lunch,” Alexa said.
Marian took the outside seat and Calli closed her eyes a moment in thanks that 
these two women were so protective.
At least for now. They seemed to think that she’d go out and fight monsters like 
the slayer, or the larger beast next to it. This one snarled, too, its fangs as 
sharp as the slayers, its black furred head more massive. On either side of the 
head were huge paws with long, curved, sharply pointed claws that looked more 
like blades than anything else.
“Render,” Alexa said, and removed a little woven basket of tea leaves from her 
mug, placing it on a saucer.
Calli forced herself to savor the ale. It was perfect. Rich, mellow, just to her 
taste, already warming her stomach. She’d settled enough from shock to glance up 
at the next mounted trophy of a horror—another torso. Gray, lizard-like skin, 
bony head with no nose, two arms with two suckered tentacles in front and behind 
each arm, a soul-sucker.
When she turned her gaze back to the table, she saw the other women watching her 
with understanding in their eyes. “Is that it?” she croaked.
“There are dreeths,” Alexa said.
“Of course, how could I forget dreeths? What are they?”
“Quetzalcoatlus,” Marian said.
“The Aztec plumed-serpent god?”
Alex huffed out a breath. “According to Marian, the biggest pterodactyl-type 
dinosaur on Earth is called a quetzalcoatlus.”
“Oh.”
“It has a bigger belly, though.”
“Sorta bat winged?” asked Calli, trying to imagine the thing.
“Yes. Clawed front legs and spurred, too.”
“Huh.”
“Marian?” Alexa held both hands out, palms up.
“Oh, very well,” Marian said. She linked fingers with Alexa and to Calli’s 
amazement a 3-D image formed above the table of a flying reptile.
“Not a dragon,” Calli said, looking at the hideous thing.
“No,” Marian and Alexa said in unison.
Its beak was long and curved. “More sharp teeth. Everything around here has 
sharp teeth except us and volarans.”
“The teeth are poison, like slayer spines,” Alexa said.
“Of course they are,” muttered Calli. “Regular teeth would be too easy. How 
big?”
“About the size of a bungalow,” Alexa said.
A short shriek and the clatter of plates toppling onto their table caused Marian 
and Alexa to break apart. They snatched two meals. Calli saw one plate overturn. 
“No!” The burger and bun stopped in midair, the plate turned right side up and 
the food slid back onto the thick pottery. Marian reached out and nabbed it, 
smiling at Calli. “You saved it.”
She’d used magic! Instinctively she’d stopped the mouthwatering food from 
falling. She’d even repiled the strange white fries. She looked at one 
dubiously. “What are these?”
“Turnip fries,” Alexa said, biting into her burger.
“Turnip?” 
“They don’t have potatoes,” Marian explained sadly.
“I taught the cook burgers and buns, and they’re all the rage, of course, but 
without fries…” Alexa shrugged.
“What kind of meat?” Calli bit off the end of a turnip fry. Not even hot oil and 
salt could make it good. She dropped the fry onto the plate.
“Cow,” Marian said.
“Okay,” Calli said. “We got mustard and ketchup?”
“Something that might barely pass for about a gold coin more,” Alexa said.
“Shoot.”
“I’m working on that,” Marian said.
Since she was working on so many other projects, Calli didn’t think she’d be 
seeing the condiments soon.
“Ketchup is easier than mustard. They grow plenty of tomatoes here.” Marian 
peeled off her bun and showed lettuce and tomato.
The burger was plump and juicy and had Calli forgetting about everything except 
eating. The lettuce and tomato actually had taste, unlike most of the standard 
stuff she’d had in diners. She bit, swallowed. Breakfast seemed days instead of 
hours ago.
A man cleared his throat.
Calli looked up to see a tall, somber-looking guy wearing brown cotton trousers 
and shirt with a sleeveless tunic of dark gray over it. His left temple showed a 
streak of silver—that indicated he had magical powers, she remembered.
He made a little half bow to Alexa, then Marian, addressing them by name. Alexa 
gestured that he could join them and scooted over so he could sit next to her. 
He raised a hand and the waitress hurried over. Calli heard “burger,” and 
smiled. By the time Alexa, Marian and she were done with Lladrana, the people 
would sure have some Americanizations in their language.
Alexa put her sandwich down. Calli noticed she’d only eaten a couple of fries. 
“Calli, this is Sevair Masif, Representative of the Cities and Towns to the 
Marshalls.”
Another new face. Another guy looking her over coolly. “Tell him I’m pleased to 
meet him.” Though she really wasn’t much, she inclined her head. “What cities?”
Marian muffled a snort beside her.
“They just aren’t as urban as we are,” Alexa said.
“Castleton is, like, the main city, right? And it doesn’t have mustard and 
ketchup?”
Alexa sighed.
Marian said, “We did tell you that people would give you presents. This man did 
me a wonderful favor by sending my teacher and me and Jaquar an excellent cook.”
“He had a spice master send me a gift of tea. Expensive here. You want to ask 
him for mustard?”
Marian frowned. “Have you asked about mustard, Alexa? I think the southern part 
of Lladrana might make it, or the country south of here.”
“Haven’t asked,” Alexa said. “How important is mustard to you, Calli? Enough to 
ask for it as a gift instead of anything else? Tea’s important to me.”
“And let me tell you, that cook has been a lifesaver…or at least made my 
crotchety old mentor into a reasonable human being,” Marian said.
The waitress set down Masif’s plate and curtsied.
“Gifts. No strings attached?” Calli asked.
Alexa said something apologetic to Masif. He nodded and began eating, a little 
awkwardly, as if he wasn’t used to eating with his hands, concentrating on 
making sure the bun’s contents didn’t slip. For some reason Calli found that 
endearing.
“No strings attached.” Alexa grinned. “The thing is, everyone wants to get on 
our good sides, and since we’re virtually inexplicable, no one expects anything 
in return…at least not for the first gift.”
“Huh,” Calli said. “No strings? Ask the guy if he intends to put something on my 
Choosing table.”
Eyes dancing, Alexa did. All three Exotiques stared at him. A faint redness 
appeared on his cheekbones under his golden skin. He seemed to grit his teeth 
around his bite of burger. Glancing at her, then away, he swallowed and said 
something that sounded flowery.
Alexa coughed. Marian turned to Calli and said, “He asked if you’d be unhappy if 
he did so.”
“Unhappy.” She looked at Marian. “What’s the word for ‘no’?”
Alexa laughed. “I learned the word for ‘no’ within an hour here!”
Calli could believe that.
“Ttho,” said Marian.
Stomach fluttering with butterflies, Calli met Masif’s gaze and said, “Ttho.”
His eyes went big and he looked as if he was having second thoughts. Since she 
sensed he was a very serious man, she liked the fact she made him nervous. She 
didn’t see that they had much in common, but he looked like a stand-up guy, and 
the more choices she had, the better.
They all ate in silence. When they were done, Marian said, “Speaking of the 
Choosing and Bonding, we’d better get back.”
“There’re hours until evening,” Alexa grumbled. “Marian—”
“Back,” Marian said firmly. “You can’t prepare for something this life altering 
too early.”
Calli’s burger turned to lead in her stomach.
“Just gonna dump Sevair?” asked Alexa.
“If he’s going to put a token on the Choosing table, he’ll have to prepare, 
too,” Marian said. She gestured around them. “The place is almost empty. Most of 
the Chevaliers are probably up in Horseshoe Hall meditating and bathing and 
Singing.”
“Singing?” asked Calli.
“Praying,” Marian said.
“Oh.” It would probably be a good thing to do a bit of that herself. Calli 
didn’t consider herself a very spiritual person. Her dad certainly didn’t truck 
with any sort of religion, so she wasn’t quite sure who she’d pray to. The 
closest she’d come to a spiritual experience lately was flying on Thunder. That 
decided her. “I’d like to see the volarans again.”
“Shoot,” Marian said, digging into a pocket of her gown and dropping a couple of 
gold coins into Alexa’s outstretched hand.
Alexa winked at Calli. “I won the bet that you’d want to fly again before this 
evening.”
Calli stared at Marian. “You’re the one who was there when I took off and landed 
yesterday. You like volarans better than Alexa, why would you think I wouldn’t 
want to fly today?”
“You fell off yesterday. You don’t have the tack you like. You should be 
thinking of the Choosing and Bonding ritual and preparing for it.”
“I won’t fall off. Thunder wouldn’t let me. Bastien’s bringing a variety of tack 
for me to examine, so I’ll find something acceptable. As for preparing for the 
Choosing and Bonding, I’d rather keep my mind and hands occupied. Furthermore, I 
think the most spiritual experience I’ve had in my life was on the back of that 
volaran yesterday.”
Marian’s expression softened. “I understand.”
“So do I,” Alexa said, smiling.
“I am the volarans’ Exotique,” Calli said.
Masif wiped his mouth and hands with a napkin, then stood. He’d eaten very 
efficiently. All his turnip fries were gone. Without ketchup. There was no hope 
they’d link up together. He stood and slid from the table, offered Alexa a hand.
Alexa opened her fingers and picked out a gold coin. Masif curled her fingers 
back over the money and said something. He nodded to Marian and Calli.
On the other hand, the guy was obviously treating them. A gentleman. She could 
go for a gentleman.
Alexa and Marian murmured thanks in Lladranan. Calli waited and said, “Thank 
you,” matching his serious expression.
He set several gleaming silver coins on the table, bowed once more and walked 
away.
“Nice guy,” Alexa said.
“Very serious,” Marian said.
“Yes, we seem to prefer the rogue and charmer types, huh? How about you, Calli?”
“I’d like a man who’d love me.”
Again those warm smiles. “That’s what’s important,” Marian said. She stood and 
Calli followed her, glancing around the place, not looking at the trophies. Not 
many people lingered. Two gay couples, one male, one female, all of whom smiled 
at her, and a grizzled old man, stood at the bar. The other booths were empty.
“One moment,” Alexa said. She went toward a door on the wall.
“I’ve never been in there,” Marian said, following.
Feet slow, Calli asked, “More trophies?”
“Not exactly.” Alexa pushed open the door. The room was dark but the minute she 
walked in, light came on. She waved to roughly faceted quartz crystals sitting 
in brackets.
“An older lighting system, interesting,” Marian said. She stopped and looked up.
Calli entered the room and looked up, too. It wasn’t a large room, but it was 
high-ceilinged and held hundreds of flags in several rows from the top of the 
room to just above a tall Lladranan man’s head.
“Heraldic banners of Chevaliers and Marshalls who’ve died the last two and a 
half years fighting the Dark,” Alexa said.
Looking closer, Calli saw many were ripped and torn, showed brown stains of 
earth and blood. A couple were burnt and eaten away as if acid had spilled on 
them. Other colored stains, green, yellow or black, also decorated the flags.
Calli gulped.
Alexa stared at a big maroon banner edged in gold except where a chunk was 
burnt. Her expression was inscrutable. “That one belonged to Lord Knight 
Swordmarshall Reynard Vauxveau, Bastien and Luthan’s father.”
Swordmarshall Thealia held that title, Calli knew, the greatest title in all the 
land. So the most powerful man in the country had died.
Marian said, “We must return to the Castle.” She walked back into the barroom. 
Alexa did, too, leaving Calli alone.
Calli stared at the flags, hanging still and solemn. Her heart tightened in awe 
and fear. All these people had fought against the monsters displayed in the 
other room, and lost. Died.
Soon Calli would bind herself to a man who’d fight. She’d be expected to fight, 
too. Or defend with magic, Shield to the man’s Sword. Risk limb and life and 
volaran. Volarans must have died, too. She put a hand to her throat.
She wanted a husband and a family and a ranch and beautiful volarans.
This was the price.
11 
A s they were leaving town, Calli heard the worst thing in the world, horses’ 
terrified cries. She ran in the direction—more by feel and the screeching notes 
of mental noise than by ears. It was farther than she expected, through the town 
to the outskirts. There she saw a small round pen where a man flailed at two 
horses, a black and a bay, with a snapping whip, raising blood.
A protective force field rippled around the man with the whip, but Calli could 
see his aura beneath—a nauseating yellow-green color. In the shadows of the 
building another chartreuse glow pulsed with meanness and excitement as he 
watched the abuse.
“Stop!” Calli shouted, running fast. Fury burned in her so hotly she thought her 
hair crackled out from her head.
The men turned to her, sneers on their face. Then they froze. The guy with the 
whip dropped his arm, openmouthed.
Alexa, breathing hard, caught Calli’s arm. “You slow down. Calm down. I’ll 
translate for you, but watch yourself. Your Power is out of control, shooting 
off sparks!”
Alexa’s strong grip gave Calli pause. Her words penetrated the red haze. Then 
she blinked, seeing what Alexa said was true. Little fire-bright sparks rose 
from her skin.
The man in the shadows bolted.
Alexa’s baton flew into her hand. She pointed it at the men and yelled, “Arret!”
This time the men really did freeze, midmotion, their eyes rolling as wildly as 
the horses’. Satisfaction surged in Calli. Super powers at work. Excellent. She 
found herself grinning and knew part of the assholes’ fear was because of her. 
Really good.
She reached the paddock where the horses still circled in fright. “What do you 
think you’re doing?” she said softly to the men. Alexa translated the question, 
her voice full of threat.
The men said nothing. Calli got the impression they couldn’t speak. Alexa waved. 
“Parly.”
Calli leaned against the wooden rail, waiting until it was safe. The man in the 
pen gauged the horses’ gallops and ran to escape when they were on the far side 
of him. He scrambled over the fence.
“Well?” asked Calli, lacing menace into her tone. The guy in the shadows cringed 
back, tumbled into speech, gesticulating.
Alexa looked at Calli, disgust on her face. “He said the horses wouldn’t go.”
“They’re goin’ now.”
“That’s for sure,” Marian said, joining them. She sent the men an icily 
aristocratic look that had them bunching together.
“What’s the law about animal abuse?” Calli asked.
“Don’t know,” Alexa said, “but I’ll find out.”
“Tell ’em that I want ’em gone. Now,” Calli said.
That didn’t go over well. The men raised their own voices, waved their hands. 
Calli thought they were using the old “these animals are my property and I can 
do whatever I want with them” defense. Mid-tirade she swept an arm out toward 
them and banged them up against the outbuilding wall.
Alexa grabbed her arm. “Don’t do that again. Your Power is out of control.”
She was right. Calli trembled from more than her anger. Power rushed through her 
like a flooding river. She had to dam it, use it. For good. Not to whup some 
stupid asses who had skulls too thick to ever learn how to treat a horse, egos 
too solid to ever think that someone else could teach them. Even a lesson in 
fear wouldn’t last with them very long.
But, oh, how she wanted to give them that lesson in fear. Terrify them 
until—Sparks jumped from her skin again, and gave her a quick, shocking 
backlash, sizzling a few of her nerves.
“Wow,” Alexa said. “Lock it down, Calli.”
Dam it. Right. She sucked in a deep lungful of summer air.
Marian had been coolly watching. “I think it would be best if we paid them off 
for the moment. Bought the horses. Are you all right with that, Calli?”
“Yes, but I don’t have any money.”
“We’ll take care of it,” Marian said, keeping her eye on the men. She said 
something, sounded like a price. The men shook their heads, their voices 
becoming louder again.
Marian looked down her nose, gestured to the horses, obviously telling the guys 
the animals weren’t in good shape.
They argued more.
“Arret,” Alexa said, crossed her arms and glared. “Take it or leave it, but get 
away from here.”
The man who’d been in the ring spat in the dirt.
“Too stupid to live,” Marian said in a tone of wonder. “Facing the three most 
Powerful women in the country and arguing over a few coins.”
Calli turned to the two men, considering what else she might be able to do with 
magic.
Marian touched her arm. “You’re very Powerful. You’ve proven your point, you 
don’t need to intimidate them further.” She handed Calli three small gold coins.
Sending a scalding look at Marian, Calli shook off her hand. Motioning to Alexa, 
she strode up to the men. “You tell these…turds…that they had better not ever 
treat another horse this way or I’ll skin their hides.”
With a smile that showed all her teeth, Alexa fingered her sheathed baton and 
repeated the words. The men paled. Calli’s smile matched Alexa’s.
“Bastien and I will make sure they pay,” Alexa growled. The two weren’t looking 
happy now. In fact, their eyes had gone wide and round as they looked from Calli 
to Alexa to Marian.
Calli threw the gold coins at the men’s feet. “Go.”
They scooped up the gold and scrambled away without a backward glance.
Now she was faced with the task of transporting two terrified and abused horses 
up to the Castle. She didn’t know how she’d manage. It usually took her a 
minimum of two and a half hours to work a green horse into trusting her, let 
alone a mistreated one. “We need to get the horses to the Castle.”
“Or stash them somewhere until you can come back to them,” Marian said.
“That could work.” Calli’d rather have them close. These animals she understood. 
The familiarity of horseflesh, even their scent, reassured her, reminded her 
that she was a damn good horsewoman.
“Try whispering to them,” Alexa said.
“I’m not going near them just yet.”
“With your mind, Calli,” Alexa suggested gently.
Shit, what did Alexa think Calli could say? “Here, horsey, horsey,” like some 
tenderfoot? Calli leaned on the rail and closed her eyes. She brought the equine 
language she’d learned a bit of yesterday to mind and mentally reached for the 
horses. She heard fearful shouts. Men. Will kill me. Will eat me. Run. Run. Run.
Calm, she tried radiating the feeling. Come to me. I will help. I will protect. 
She said that in her mind but kept up a flow of completely confident and serene 
emotions to them.
The sun bore down on her, making her shirt stick to her back. Her scalp 
dampened. This was hard!
The horses’ hooves slowed from a gallop to a canter, then a walk. Finally they 
calmed and lowered their heads to sniff around the ring.
Come see me, she coaxed.
Their eyes rolled as they saw her—or maybe it was the three of them, not quite 
in the shades they might usually see.
But now Calli could sense their thought patterns—or equine images. Of course, 
they weren’t intelligent like volarans. But they were curious. Especially about 
her smell, which was volaran and horse and different-horse. And predator, but 
the meat-eater was behind a fence and the bad bad-men predators were gone and 
the other littler predators smelled interesting, too.
Calli smiled. The work to connect lightly with their minds, to soothe them, to 
hear them paid off in joy. Here, on Lladrana, she could whisper to horses with 
more than her voice and body language. In Lladrana, horses could whisper back. 
And that squeezed her heart nearly as much as flying on volarans. To be 
appreciated and respected and someday loved by beings she’d always loved herself 
was another priceless gift that Lladrana had brought her.
Come see me. And they did. They walked over and when she didn’t move in a 
threatening manner, dipped their heads to whuffle her hair. They jostled each 
other to get the best position to sniff her up and down.
Without looking away from the two, Calli said, “They want to look at you two. 
Come to the rail.”
“Oh, very well,” Alexa huffed and came to stand on Calli’s right. The horse 
nearest to her, a black, whinnied a greeting. Alexa held out her hand and when 
the horse came near her, rubbed its neck. The black lowered its head to sniff at 
her baton.
Calli got the impression that the horses felt slightly reassured that the three 
women smelled of volaran and two of them had the scent of 
wondrous-magical-creature.
Marian had come to stand at Calli’s left—to stand near the newcomer instead of 
next to Alexa!—and the black drifted over to her. Even the roan Calli was 
rubbing and murmuring to turned its head to see her.
To them, she smelled of ocean. And big magic. And a little of fire, which they 
didn’t like much.
Then they stilled. Each pricked their ears, looked past Calli…and upward. A 
small, foot-long volaran of a demure brown, flew to them and landed on the thick 
rail post of the pen.
“Feycoocu!” Alexa’s face lit up. “This is so cool. A miniature volaran.” She ran 
a finger down a little wing as Sinafinal preened. “Why didn’t you ever turn into 
a bitty volaran for me?” She sniffed.
For Calli, Sinafinal broadcasted.
“Thank you,” Calli said.
“Huh,” said Alexa.
Calli should return to the Castle, Sinafinal said. I will help you lead these 
poor creatures. She circled over the horses’ heads. They acted as if she was 
nothing to be feared—not even starting, as if she’d been a low-flying bird. 
Calli didn’t know what sort of magic Sinafinal was doing, but it worked.
Then she hovered over the roan, who had the most welts. The feycoocu lit on the 
horse’s back and burst into bright light like a small glowing sun. A loud melody 
fluted to Calli’s ears by way of her mind, another aspect of Sinafinal’s Song.
“Whoa!” Alexa said as they all turned their heads away. In a couple of minutes 
the bright light faded. Still blinking spots from her eyes, Calli looked back at 
the horses. Sinafinal lay on the black mare in her small greyhound form.
Marian and Alexa and I will ride the black and Calli can ride the roan. 
“You really think this will work?” Calli said.
Yes. They are calm now. 
“So,” Alexa said casually. “Is that your natural feycoocu form, a sun?”
I prefer to think of it as a star form, but, no, Sinafinal smiled a doggy grin, 
then met Calli’s stare. You and I will keep a light touch on their minds and 
shield them from fear. Marian and Alexa will learn from you. This will help 
Alexa with volarans, too.
“Sheesh,” Alexa muttered. “Another lesson today. Another slam at my riding 
skills. I’m learning as fast as I can.”
“We all are,” Marian said as she opened the gate and entered. She took a 
wide-legged stance and hummed a snatch of a tune that sounded suspiciously like 
an old cowboy song. As Calli watched, her robe split and turned into gaucho 
pants. Calli blinked, but the cloth remained transformed. “Some dress.”
“Marian can do a lot with her clothes. They’re Circlet made.” Sighing, Alexa 
walked through the gate. Marian mounted, and held out a hand to Alexa.
“I want a dress like that,” Calli said.
“That can be arranged,” Marian said. “It will cost about the same as a horse.”
“Maybe not,” Calli said.
Alexa took Marian’s hand and with a little jump flew up and settled on the back 
of the horse.
More magic. Calli’s heartbeat picked up. What she could do with horses now she 
had Power! Incredible stuff. Lladrana wouldn’t have ever seen the like of the 
horses she’d train. Grinning with the plans she had, the future that continued 
to open out in front of her, she swung onto the roan and rode the gelding from 
the pen. “You lead.” She smiled at Alexa.
“I don’t know this part of the town,” Alexa said.
Turn left, Sinafinal said.
It was good that someone knew how to get back to the Castle, though when Calli 
looked in that direction, the fortress loomed. She’d have been able to find her 
way, and that made her feel good, too. So short a time on Lladrana, but as 
Marian said, she was learning fast. Both Marian and Alexa had found places here. 
Both glowed with Power, and Calli thought she might, too.
She’d carve out a life here and be just as successful as her new friends.
The ride to the Castle was quick and uneventful. Both Marian and Alexa easily 
learned how to cradle a horse’s thoughts. And to keep tight control of the 
horse’s emotions when they threatened to panic.
An interesting technique, but it wouldn’t be good for either horse or human to 
rely on it solely. The horses were prey animals, they needed such instincts, and 
those instincts should not be blunted by overuse of human mental control.
Furthermore, humans needed to communicate with horses rather than relying on 
mind control. What happened if that control failed and the horse reverted to 
right-brain and the human needed to use regular methods of communication like 
voice and body language?
Once at the Castle, Marian excused herself and hurried off, to work on the 
Choosing and Bonding preparations, she said. Calli suspected she wanted to note 
down the lesson in mental control of horses and Calli’s conclusions. Surely the 
Lladranans had many, many Lorebooks of Horses. Calli’d like to read them. After 
she learned to read Lladranan.
Alexa called a couple of female apprentice Chevaliers to help Calli, then 
followed Marian.
Calli supervised putting the new horses in a round pen on the Landing Field. The 
horses looked around and their minds hummed with animal satisfaction. Calli 
watched for a bit to make sure the women were caring and competent. They both 
sent admiration and healing through their hands and their brushes as they 
groomed.
Then Calli went to the tack room and chose a thin-strapped hackamore for Thunder 
and a barely acceptable saddle. The hackamore was dark with age and contained a 
faint aura of Power. When she touched it, she knew it had been crafted by a 
nomadic people who followed more natural training than she’d seen here.
Thunder’s stall was empty. I am in the Landing Field. We have time for a short 
ride before you prepare for mating.
The reminder made her swallow hard.
When she saw him, he stared at the tack, snorted. I don’t like that.
It’s to help me hang on, also to communicate with you. 
You speak Equine well, better than yesterday. Horses helped. He snorted again in 
pity for wingless creatures.
I don’t think I can have a conversation with you and guide you at the same time 
with my mind. 
Thunder seemed to consider that. Very well. He dipped his head for the halter. 
Shook it to settle the straps.
Feel okay? 
He blew out a breath.
Just live with it. 
She placed the saddle on his back and cinched it. He objected. He whuffled and 
sidled and stomped.
So much for her hope of seamless partnership, her idea that they’d settled who 
was alpha in this pairing.
12 
B astien strolled up to Calli with a bland smile, thumbs tucked into the 
waistband of his leather pants. “Thunder is a magnificent volaran. But time is 
short for a flight today, and you should fly with other winged ones, too. Why 
don’t I bring a couple I bred and raised around for you?”
Thunder quieted. She is mine. We have things to talk about before the mating.
Bastien obviously heard the volaran. From the startled looks they got from the 
opposite side of the Landing Field, others had heard the flying horse, too. 
Bastien said, “Seems to me, right now the best reason Calli has to stay here in 
Lladrana is to play with volarans. You aren’t in the mind to fly with her, so 
why not let her play with another lucky volaran and have your conversation 
later?” He winked at Calli.
This saddle pinches. 
“I’m sorry,” Calli said. “I ordered a new one just for—”
But Bastien went over to Thunder, placed his hands on either side of the saddle 
and yanked. Power enveloped him and Calli heard a few bars of a wild volaran 
flying Song. “That should do it,” Bastien panted. He shook his head, then leaned 
against the stable wall.
Feels okay now. Thunder looked back.
Bastien flapped a hand. “Go fly. Commune. See you later.”
Calli wasted no time mounting, satisfied that she’d learned a lesson in handling 
her volaran from Bastien.
The minute she settled, she felt connected with Thunder. Both of them eager. 
Thunder ran a couple of lengths, then rose into the air, opening wings that 
smelled of floral feather cleaner. Calli’s stomach dipped, but her heart lifted. 
They angled upward in the blue sky. Since her throat had closed at the pure 
beauty of the moment, Calli mentally said, Let’s circle around Castleton and the 
Castle. She’d like to see—from the air!—the layout of the town and the pen from 
which she’d rescued the horses.
Thunder slowed his ascent. Calli sent her energy to the left and he turned to 
begin a wide circle of the vicinity. One day we will fly to Volaran Valley, he 
said.
Yes. 
The herd is mighty and the valley is full of Song. We hear all the Songs of 
Amee, of Lladrana, of the air and earth and fire and oceans. We hear the Songs 
from the stars. The Song—the Songs the Singer hears.
Prophetic Songs? Calli shivered and told herself it was the cool wind around 
her.
Yes, we hear the Song, many Songstreams, but we don’t all understand. The alpha 
mare. The alpha stallion, perhaps. They don’t always tell us. But they will 
speak to you. You are our Exotique. The Protector of the Flight.
A zing of pure Power went through Calli…from everywhere. The sky, the sun, the 
stars unseen in daylight. What…what do I protect you from?
Thunder’s muscles rippled under her. You help us with the Chevaliers, give those 
who speak with us, like Bastien, more respect so they can help us with our fear. 
You protect us from the horrors. You protect us from a dreadful future. 
Protector of the Flight.
This time the zing was more like an unpleasant shudder through every muscle in 
her body. She leaned forward against Thunder’s neck, tangling her hands in his 
mane, comforted by flesh and bone and sinew and the throbbing of his pulse and 
sweet musky amber scent. She shut her eyes and welcomed sensation—the wind 
against her, the heat from the sun above and rising from the earth below. Bird 
cries sounded around her and she wondered if it might be Sinafinal and her mate. 
She hoped so. Anything to make her feel less alone.
I have a special task, then. She’d known it, felt it in her bones. More than 
what the Chevaliers wanted of her. More than what the Marshalls would demand of 
her. Expectations of the volarans. How could she fail them?
Yes, Thunder said.
What? 
I was not told. The alpha mare will tell you at the right time. She got an 
image, then, of a small chestnut volaran, older. How old?
As old as the Singer. 
Calli thought that was plenty old, but she’d have to check for sure. She decided 
to talk about the easiest revelation, first. Bastien, who speaks Equine, is 
Alexa’s.
Grunting, Thunder said, Yes. But there are others. We believe you will mate with 
one. It will be a good sign.
Great, more pressure. Calli straightened. How would she be able to discern a 
Chevalier who knew how to speak with volarans? Would they have a different aura? 
Maybe, but she hadn’t sorted out what all the aura colors meant yet. Maybe 
Equine-speaking Chevaliers smell more of volaran. She couldn’t imagine herself 
sniffing them. She was supposed to rely on her Power, but that 
sense—whatever—was so new she didn’t entirely trust it.
You must stay here. With us. A mate will help you do so when the Snap comes. 
Even though she wasn’t talking aloud, Calli cleared her throat. Do you know when 
the Snap—
No. I only know the alpha mare told me to fly and become your volaran. He sent 
love through their link and the fine tension in Calli’s muscles released. 
Thunder hesitated. Your primary volaran. You will get more.
More! 
Some volarans who like to live with people will be given to you when you choose 
your land. If your man is wealthy, he will give some volarans to you. 
At least Thunder said “man.” Calli got the distinct impression that others 
thought she might chose a woman. She had never swung that way.
And you can call wild volarans to you. People who have none and wish to become a 
Marshall try this. Sometimes we come, sometimes not. You will have as many as 
you want. It is an honor to be your volaran. 
Calli sniffed, grabbed her bandana from her back pocket and blew her nose. 
Thanks.
But I talk the best. 
She smiled. I’m sure.
Enough talk, let us fly. 
So they did. Calli lifted her face to the sun and let it dry the remnants of the 
tears at the love pouring to her from Thunder, running along their mental 
connection, seeping into her through their physical contact. She breathed 
deeply, then relaxed in the saddle. They were over green land, they’d flown due 
south this time, along a low ridge of hills, and the air got warmer, the land 
even more verdant. Where is Volaran Valley?
Northwest of the Castle. 
She’d have to look at a map. That brought her thoughts of the Map Room and the 
invading hordes.
You haven’t been in battle before? she asked, touching a rein for Thunder to 
turn around. They headed north back to the Castle.
Not partnered with a Chevalier, Thunder said. A fear-laden memory flooded him. 
He tucked his legs up, and Calli saw him with a group of other volarans, more 
stallions than mares, young and in the shadow of mountains. Fighting horrors. 
Distorted images of the monsters she’d seen in the tavern attacked the volarans. 
Some fell. Thunder screamed as he kicked a soul-sucker’s head to explode like a 
pumpkin, whinnied again in fear as he felt brain matter on his hooves.
Easy! She forced the memory away. Thunder’s body rippled, but he hadn’t panicked 
and that was good. She figured he might in a real battle, though. All of the 
volarans had done so in that long-ago battle, flown high and fast and far back 
to Volaran Valley, covered in sweat.
My testing flight. Only the strong and proven can live in Volaran Valley. 
Calli agreed with what she imagined Alexa saying, “Shit, does every single being 
in Lladrana have to be tested?”
Yes. We live in perilous times, answered Thunder. Those of my age who did not 
kill a horror had to live outside the herd or fly to a human place.
That gave Calli plenty to think of. So many of the Chevaliers’ and Marshalls’ 
mounts were culls?
Marshalls fly with volarans raised by Bastien, he teaches them to partner with 
people and fight when they are young. 
Oh.
Easier in some ways, Thunder said as they flew over the southernmost of the 
three Castle courtyards. He lowered himself to a small free spot on the Landing 
Field packed with unbridled flying steeds. All volarans are out here to say they 
love you before you go to choose a mate. They want you to choose their partner.
Oh, boy.
They pressed against her, rubbing, whuffling at her hair, butting at her and she 
felt a myriad of Songs from each. Choose mine. Choose mine. Choose mine. But 
under all their pleas she felt the love with every brush of each body, warming 
her, reassuring her, inundating her. She was theirs.
“Coming through!” called Alexa, baton out and raised like a torch, flaring green 
light. The mass of volarans parted. Marian, more Amazonian than Alexa, followed, 
smiling. When Alexa reached Calli, she grabbed Calli’s left arm. “I’ll have my 
squire care for Thunder.”
“Fine,” Calli said. She frowned. “Will I get a squire?”
“For sure,” Alexa said. “We Exotiques are wonderful to work for, or hadn’t you 
heard? You’ll have a stampede to your door.”
A loud bong echoed over the Castle. It came from the alarm tower. Calli tensed.
Marian took her other arm and patted it, but now a crease dipped between her 
brows. “Not a battle alarm. Just the bell marking two hours before sunset and 
your Choosing and Pairing. We’re running late.”
“Just a few minutes, chill!” said Alexa.
“It’s time for the purification,” Marian said, increasing their pace.
“Purification!” Calli’s voice rose.
Alexa squeezed her arm. “Bath.”
“Oh.” Her pulse didn’t slow. Everything she’d been pushing out of her mind, 
blocking from her own emotions, rushed back.
At Alexa’s and Marian’s urging, the Marshalls had partitioned a small 
hot-springs tub in the basement of the Keep from the rest of the room with a 
fancy wooden screen. Calli was allowed a private bath, but was too tense to 
relax and soak in the water scented with herbs. Qualms fluttered like 
butterflies—hell, like volarans—in her stomach. She did want a man and a family. 
Of course, that would be the most fulfilling part of her life, especially since 
money and a ranch of her own were guaranteed. This whole thing was like winning 
the lottery. She could have it all!
Of course, there were drawbacks. Instead of taxes on the money and real estate, 
there were more emotional-type taxes. She was promising to train horses and work 
with volarans and riders. She was promising to fight the monsters.
She was promising to stay in Lladrana.
Such a huge decision. But she’d never been any good with letting a decision 
dangle, always felt better after she’d made up her mind.
She was a risk-taker. Marian and Alexa were risk-takers, too, or they wouldn’t 
be here. So were the Marshalls and Chevaliers. Face it, everyone around her was 
a risk-taker, ready to egg her on.
The only person she’d met who might be the slow, deliberate type she could talk 
to long and hard was the Townmaster, Sevair Masif, who was waiting for her 
upstairs. Not exactly impartial. She didn’t want to talk to a man about this 
either.
Splashes and laughing and waves of excited auras of red and yellow and white 
filtered through the screen to Calli. Yep, everyone was pushing her. Probably 
because it was the Lladranans’ passivity that had led to this mess—now they were 
overreacting and going all aggressive. Which, in Calli’s opinion, was the right 
thing to do.
More splashing from the other side of the screen. “Calli, you okay?” called 
Alexa.
Calli had to wet her lips before she could answer. “Feeling a little crazy.”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want,” Alexa said.
“We’ll stand by any decision you care to make,” Marian said.
She’d heard enough of Alexa’s and Marian’s stories on the ride back to the 
Castle to know they meant it. Everyone had given Marian a lot of leeway when 
she’d been determined to learn a cure for her brother’s disease and take info 
back to Earth. Marian had made it clear from the start that she’d return to 
Earth.
Calli had already said she’d stay. “What’s the worse that could happen?” she 
muttered, but not quietly enough.
“You could get trapped in a marriage with the wrong guy forever,” Marian said, 
as if she, too, was considering all Calli’s options. Marian, the one who was 
emotionally bound to her guy forever. Who’d die when he did.
“Well, if the magic goes wrong and she lands a real creep, I could kill him for 
ya,” Alexa offered cheerfully.
Calli thought she must be joking. But that thought did lead to the question of 
how long her lifespan could be. Days.
Days spent with a husband, hopefully loving and…sexy. Days spent flying on 
volarans. That was worth any shortening of her life. A life now free of pain.
Voices murmured, then a deeper voice, Thealia, leader of the Marshalls, said 
something and Marian translated. “You and your mate will choose your land 
tomorrow morning.”
Oh, yeah. That didn’t settle Calli down, but it did point out another big 
advantage. A spread of her own that she wouldn’t have to fight her dad for. That 
she could run the way she wanted, equip the way she wanted. Money for the ranch. 
Advice from everyone. She had people who were fast becoming better friends than 
she’d ever had.
A lighter voice came. Calli recognized it as Clua’s, the Marshall who’d done the 
Choosing and Bonding ritual herself. Marian said, “Clua promises you the 
Choosing Ritual works.”
Calli recalled how those two Marshalls loved each other. She did want love. 
Above all, she wanted a family and love. Soon her friends would love her like a 
sister, she was sure. She could make a place here where people would love her.
The volarans already loved her.
Earth seemed a very cold and lonely place.
 
Marrec met Seeva, Lady Hallard’s daughter, a Chevalier trainee, in the corridor 
of Horseshoe Hall. Hands on her hips, she was chewing her lip. When she saw him, 
she smiled and he returned it. Unlike her mother, the lady he swore allegiance 
to, Seeva’s manner was outgoing and generous.
“I can’t decide,” she said. “I’ve prepared the North Curved Suite on the 
uppermost floor in case the new Exotique wants a good view of the hills and the 
river and the forest, but perhaps she’d rather be in a tower—both the other 
Exotiques seem to like towers. But Horseshoe Hall doesn’t have towers, so she’d 
have to bunk somewhere else and then she’d be separate from us, the Chevaliers. 
Mother would not be pleased.”
He blinked, then remembered that Seeva had been given the job of managing the 
Hall—which had put a few noses out of joint. Since he was a man of low status 
he’d been out of that internal political skirmish.
Again she nibbled her full bottom lip. “Mother’s moving from the Noble 
Apartments and she’ll want prime space, too.”
“Hmm,” Marrec said. He had one small room in the least favored part of the 
building.
She laughed. “I’m running on. But what do you think, would the Exotique want a 
suite with a view or a tower or an Inner Curved Courtyard Suite on the ground 
level closer to the stables?”
He had no idea. Didn’t care the least. Which, since he was on his way to put his 
token on the Choosing and Bonding table, might not be a good thing. He should 
care about the Exotique’s—Calli’s—quarters.
“Um,” he said. “Who wouldn’t want the North Curved Suite?” He thought she 
deserved the very best.
“But being close to the stables? She seems enamored with volarans.”
Marrec shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Shaking her head, she said, “Well, it’s too late now.” She frowned. “I really 
wish they’d had the Choosing and Bonding Ceremony here in the Hall. If she 
chooses someone, they’ll probably go straight to bed and it should be here with 
the Chevaliers instead of in the keep.”
That jolted Marrec. His imagination hadn’t taken him any further than putting an 
object in for the Choosing. And he hadn’t even decided what to put there, 
either. He touched a polished stone in his pocket that he’d picked up from his 
lost farm in the mountains so many years ago. It would be the best offering, 
since it Sang of him since childhood, but he disliked putting it on display. No 
doubt Faucon would offer something gold or equally expensive. That decided him. 
He’d have his best chance to reach her emotionally with the stone.
The clock in the entry hall bonged the three-quarter hour, reverberating through 
every room.
“We’d better be going. The ritual is soon.” Seeva slipped her arm in his, 
pulling him from his brooding.
“You’re going, too?”
She patted a pocket. “I have my token right here.”
He looked down at her. She was young and beautiful and he could feel the 
strength of her Power where their bodies met. He certainly found her attractive, 
why wouldn’t the Exotique?
“I heard she’s a manlover,” he said. “And I thought you were, too.” He winced. 
He shouldn’t have said that.
With a sunny smile, Seeva patted his arm. “I like both women and men, and when 
Power and the Song is involved, as it is in such an ancient and significant 
ritual, who knows what will happen. The Exotique may find she prefers a woman 
after all.” She shrugged and Marrec noticed how full and appealing her breasts 
were. Yes, there was plenty about Seeva to admire, though he hadn’t seen her 
fight on the battlefield, so didn’t know how well her mind marched with other 
Chevaliers.
As soon as they entered the Lower Ward and angled to the gate leading to Temple 
Ward and the keep, Marrec saw Lady Hallard striding ahead of them. He dropped 
Seeva’s arm.
Seeva hurried and Marrec had to decide whether he wanted to walk with the 
Hallard women or not. But when Lady Hallard looked up and gestured to him, he 
had no choice. He lengthened his steps to meet her just as she crossed through 
the gate—fully guarded today—and he joined her on the other side of the security 
door. One step closer to the Exotique’s Choosing ritual.
13 
L ady Hallard jerked a nod at him. “Figured you’d be heading for the Choosing. A 
person must try and get ahead in life, after all.” She scrutinized him. “I don’t 
see that you have anything special for the Choosing table.”
“Mo-ther, it’s not supposed to be something new and special,” Seeva said.
“It is supposed to be something that resonates of your personal Song,” Lady 
Hallard contradicted. “You’ll probably put that worry stone you always finger on 
the table, right?”
Marrec withdrew his hand from his pocket without the stone that he’d been 
rubbing. “Ayes.” His liege-lady was more observant than he’d thought. Though she 
was shorter and stockier than he, she set a rapid pace across Temple Ward. “I 
got your message that you wanted an appointment with me,” she said.
“Ayes.” But not now and not with Seeva there. “A private appointment.”
Lady Hallard grunted. She eyed a clump of people waiting to file into the keep, 
including some townsmen. “What are they doing here?”
“The Choosing and Bonding is open to all,” Seeva reminded.
“But this one is our Exotique. We paid the Marshalls to Summon her, and took 
part in the Summoning ourselves.”
“The Marshalls thought it best for there to be the greatest possible number of 
suitors,” Seeva murmured.
“I wonder if the Marshalls will refund our zhiv if our Exotique chooses someone 
other than a Chevalier.”
“Just shows how important the lady is,” Marrec said, “and we Summoned her, so 
she should be more attuned to us and our needs.”
“True,” Lady Hallard said. “It’s a compliment to us that our Exotique has a 
large showing today.”
Marrec refrained from saying that most of the Chevaliers, including himself, 
hadn’t believed in the old ways or in a Powerful Exotique and hadn’t shown up 
for Alexa’s Choosing and Bonding ritual. Like others, he’d wished he’d done so 
now.
As soon as they entered the keep he felt the hum of excitement in the air, 
sliding along his skin, and heard a distant rush of voices raised in 
anticipation.
They wound their way through the building to the far northwest corner and an 
old, large hall with great faded tapestries emphasizing the starkness of the 
gray stone walls.
After one sweeping glance around the chamber, Lady Hallard snorted. “Nothing’s 
happening. Looks like this ritual is going to be late. The Marshalls can never 
get anything done on time.”
They could fly and fight in unison well enough, and were usually the first at a 
battlefield, but Marrec didn’t say so. After all, Lady Hallard was the 
representative of the Chevaliers to the Marshalls’ Council; she interacted with 
them a whole lot more than he did. He wondered if they usually started those 
meetings on time.
“Maybe the delay is due to the Exotique—” Seeva began.
“Calli,” Marrec corrected, then flushed a little when both women looked at him.
Seeva nodded. “Maybe it’s Calli. Or the other Exotiques. They use a drug, you 
know, to heighten the victim—uh, person’s Power, so she’ll chose the right 
partner. Maybe they’re having trouble with the drug, like the Marshalls did with 
Alyeka.”
“I am perfectly aware of the procedure,” Lady Hallard said, not even looking at 
her daughter. Hallard loosened her shoulders. “It’s packed in here. I don’t know 
why we couldn’t have had this Choosing in Horseshoe Close. Bunch of nonsense, 
deciding to have it in the oldest room of the Castle.” She started weaving 
through the crowd. Seeva had already slipped away to put her personal token on 
the Choosing table. Hallard jerked a nod to Marrec. “Let’s go out onto the 
terrace and talk.”
He didn’t want to go out onto the terrace, but Lady Hallard was right. The room 
was crowded, and with more men than women. The atmosphere seethed with the 
exhilaration of competition. For an instant, Marrec wondered what Songs Calli 
would hear, what she would sense and feel when she entered, how the pressure of 
being the object of such male desire would affect her. He didn’t like it much 
himself, how would she?
But Lady Hallard had opened the door and walked out to what the Marshalls called 
a terrace. It was just a bunch of flagstones surrounded by a low stone wall set 
on a sheer outcropping of rock, no wider than the room. No one else was there.
The lady glanced out at the beautiful prospect with a gaze that scanned more for 
danger than studied the pretty view. She stalked to the low wall, hitched a hip 
on it and said, “So what do you want?”
 
“Time,” Thealia said in a voice that echoed around the room. Calli knew that 
word; she heard the older Marshall splashing from the water in the pool on the 
other side of the screen. Calli ducked under, bobbed up, walked from the tub and 
dried off briskly. “I’m ready.”
“Your dress.” Thealia stuck her arm around the screen with a flow of glittering 
royal-blue shades darker than Calli’s eyes. A dress that would set off her 
coloring to the max.
“Mine?” It was the most beautiful fabric Calli had ever seen. She took the 
sleeveless dress. It didn’t look like much, but she knew it would cling.
“It’s magic, has a built-in bra,” Marian said. “I wear them all the time.”
“Is this like your dress this morning?” Calli asked.
“A little. It will mend small tears, will mask any perspiration odor with 
herbs.”
There’d been enough herbs in the bath to plant a garden.
“Think of it as a wedding dress.”
A high squeak escaped Calli. She dropped the dress, then had to pick it up, and 
watched water spots on the fabric fade before her eyes. Her breath came quicker.
“Marian!” Alexa scolded.
“Sorry,” said Marian.
Calli pulled the gown over her head. It slipped down her body as fluid as water, 
then shifted. The bodice lifted her breasts until the upper curves rounded in 
the square neck. Only a couple of wide straps held up the top. Killer dress, and 
yeah, it clung. She laughed nervously. “A take-me dress.”
“Well, let’s see you!” Alexa demanded.
And with that reminder of one sense, Calli became aware of the sound all around 
her—light ripples, deep ocean sonic-type melodies, Alexa’s and Marian’s unique 
Songs. Her skin prickled. She’d be more aware of music once she stayed.
One last chance to decide whether to trust these people or not. This was a 
matter of trust. She knew they wanted…everything…from her. But they also seemed 
to give her everything she wanted.
And if the whole thing went to shit there was always the Snap. The thought was a 
wisp in the back of her brain.
Again she felt the fabric, stroking it over one hip, though there were no 
wrinkles, would never be any wrinkles. No sleeves, the better to stick a tube in 
her wrist. She gulped.
“You sure this transfusion thing will work? What about blood types?”
Marian stuck her head around the screen, saw Calli was covered and walked in. 
“I’ve done several bloodbonds—with Jaquar to bond in marriage, the coeurdechain 
like you’ll do. Also with Bossgond as his apprentice.” She shoved her sleeve up 
and showed her left wrist. There was a series of tatts—two golden circlets 
entwined, a yellow bird and a green wand…
“We did a blood-sister thing, too,” Alexa said. With a wave, the screen folded 
back into the wall. She displayed her own wrist with a tattoo of crossed batons 
and a book. “Like I said earlier, Bastien and I don’t have a coeurdechain yet.” 
She nibbled her bottom lip. “I’d like to do a blood-sister thing with you, too, 
Calli.”
“And I,” said Marian. She looked down at her wrist and grimaced.
“Good thing you have long arms. By the time we bond with all the other 
Exotiques, we’ll have a mess of pics,” Alexa said, “like program icons on a 
computer desktop.”
“That’s so…eloquent,” Marian said.
“Hey, I ran the law journal, I can speak well if need be.” She grinned. “And 
legalese.”
“Just what I missed the most about Earth,” Marian murmured, smiling.
The exchange relieved a mite of Calli’s tension. She enjoyed these women. Then 
she reran the quips. “Other Exotiques?”
“You’re three of six,” Alexa said casually. “Dress looks great.”
Marian nodded. “Your suitors will be very impressed.”
Alexa grinned. “Their tongues’ll roll out and they’ll pant.”
That wrung a little laugh from Calli.
Alexa stepped close and looked up at Calli with serious eyes. “Really, the man 
who gets you will be lucky beyond belief.” Then her lips curved again in a 
lopsided smile. She winked. “Trust me, baby.”
Thealia jerked her head toward the stairs leading upward. So they left the 
pretty, tiled baths and walked up the stairs in pairs. Thealia first, Alexa and 
Clua—Calli kept her eye on the goblet full of the drink that would heighten her 
Power to make sure nobody slipped anything in it. Then Marian and she followed, 
with the rest bringing up the rear. A fine quivering trembled her insides. She 
felt as if she was facing the most important race of her life, a championship 
event—win or lose all.
With every step she took, Calli changed her mind. Stop this! No, go ahead, she 
had nothing to lose and everything to gain! No, look things over, check out the 
“suitors,” make the rounds of the room, then decide if she liked what and who 
she saw, if she could live with this Lladranan man or that one…Speak to the 
volarans!
But she continued to walk next to Marian, who was blessedly silent. Calli didn’t 
know if the other woman sensed her turmoil, but at least they weren’t dissecting 
it in an academic manner, or speaking of it at all, and for that Calli was 
grateful.
And it wasn’t as if Calli hadn’t talked to the volarans, who were all in favor 
of this step, or the feycoocu, who was equally in favor. Speaking of which—or 
thinking of which—they reached the top of the stairs and an exotic red bird with 
a long tail flew in and settled on Alexa’s shoulder.
A grunt came before them and Calli looked down to see a huge hamster. She 
thought it must be a hamster, though it was about a foot long and looked more 
like a prairie dog. Without breaking stride, Marian scooped it up.
“Hello, Tuck,” Calli said hollowly. Couldn’t they, like, take one step that 
didn’t reek of magic?
Oh, yeah, she was on her way to a Choosing and Bonding ritual that was nothing 
but magic.
At that moment the red bird on Alexa’s shoulder turned her head and stared, 
beady-eyed and full of magic, at Calli. If you need our help in Choosing, we 
will give it. We promise you that we will not let you choose unwisely if you are 
guided by us. Tuckerinal still has some Exotique Terre in his soul. He will 
ensure the man you choose will be adaptable enough to love all of you.
Oh, God. Calli wanted to turn and run, but they’d reached a wide hallway and a 
flood of excitement washed over her, rushing down every vein.
They all wait for you, came a squeaky mind-voice from her left—Tuckerinal. His 
eyes were equally beady and he clasped his paws together and beamed at her. It’s 
an adventure!
Just what she wanted. An adventure. Ha! That’s not what she wanted at all. She 
wanted love and a settled life, especially after all her rounds of following the 
rodeo circuit, of going into the hospital for yet another surgery. But here she 
was on Lladrana. Looked like this was one more of those situations where she’d 
have to live through adventure to get what she wanted. This time she hoped it 
worked, since her rodeo money hadn’t earned her father’s love or built the ranch 
she’d wanted.
As they turned down another corridor, the anticipation in the atmosphere fizzed 
along her nerves. At the far end of the hall was a clump of people hanging 
around a doorway. Her stomach did another nervous jump. Everyone was focused on 
her. For once in her life she was the center of attention, the main event. She 
didn’t like it much. She sure wished it was over already.
The slight babble she’d heard when they entered the hallway faded; everyone 
watched as they walked closer and closer. Calli saw men and women dressed in 
their best. They were beautiful, every one, with their golden skin, brown or 
black eyes, shining black hair with tints of chestnut or brown or raven’s-wing. 
Beautiful. They bowed or curtsied and their movements were full of grace. She 
didn’t recognize anyone and was frozen inside, so all she did was nod, and 
received huge smiles. Their teeth were good, too.
Before they reached the door at the end of the hall, Swordmarshall Thealia flung 
open a door to the left. A narrow, rougher stone corridor curved in a huge arc.
“This is the northwest round tower of the keep,” Marian said, “the oldest part 
of the Castle. It’s on the same side of the keep, the west, as Alexa’s tower.”
“Uh-huh,” Calli said, as if she cared.
They walked around nearly a good half of the tower before they came to another 
door, this one made of wood so old it looked like it had turned to stone itself. 
A pattern of iron diamonds decorated it. “The door to the anteroom of the old 
Great Hall,” Thealia said. She hummed a couple of pretty measures and the door 
opened. Calli got the idea it was keyed only to her voice.
So, could Calli run if she wanted? She eyed the other women. Would they let her 
run? Maybe. Could she outrun them? Probably everyone except Alexa. That one was 
little and quick.
The room Calli entered was paneled in an aged and mellow wood. Lightballs shone 
like miniature suns, giving off a comforting yellow light. The very walls sent 
off an aura of peace. Calli began to relax.
“Yes,” Clua said. “It’s a lovely place to sit.” She swept a hand to a cushioned 
seat under a window made of tiny glass diamond panes leaded together—so old they 
were tinted by the sun and showed a wavery view.
“Nice,” Calli forced from her lips.
“Now it is definitely time for Calli to imbibe the drink.” Thealia crossed her 
arms and nodded to Clua.
“Let’s take a look.” Marian drew close to Shieldmarshall Clua and peered down at 
the drink. So did Tuckerinal. “It’s fine,” Marian said.
Sit, said a serene voice in Calli’s head, Sinafinal. Calli looked down to see a 
beautiful calico cat—one that reminded her of a barn cat who’d lived in the 
ranch stables when she was a child. Calli went to the window seat and sat. She 
glanced out and saw a terrace and people moving on it.
“The old Great Hall is crammed!” said a new voice. It was the young woman, 
Marwey, Alexa’s assistant. “There are three long tables full of items for Calli 
to Choose.”
Oh, God.
“Drink.” Now Clua was before her, offering the goblet.
Calli looked down into the silver cup. It bubbled with more than champagne. It 
sparkled, too. Magic.
Alexa leaned a shoulder against the wall, eyebrows raised. “Now or never.”
Marian sat beside Calli, patted her hand. “It’s the best potion we could brew.”
The cat Sinafinal hopped onto Calli’s lap, weighing much less than a real cat. 
Calli tangled one hand in her soft fur. The calico’s marmalade and 
black-and-white coat stood out against Calli’s glittering dress. She drew in a 
deep breath, settled herself. This is what she wanted. Take a chance. Win all.
She grasped the goblet and drank.
14 
“W hat do I want?” Marrec repeated Lady Hallard’s question. He wanted many 
things. Mostly to be back in the Great Hall with all the rest of the panting 
crowd. He cleared his throat. “Like you said earlier, a person must try and get 
ahead in life. I intend to take more risks on the battlefield, claim all my 
kills.” Negotiating with assayers’ offices, hustling, hustling, hustling, like a 
damn shopkeeper. “With regard to the new policy, I’d like permission to fly to 
all the battles, not only the ones you fight.”
“Hmm.” She rubbed her chin. “You’re talking about the new rotation the Marshalls 
posted. It’s for everyone’s own good. More likely to get yourself killed if you 
go out for every battle. Tired. Not paired.”
He flinched. Who would pair with a penniless man?
She didn’t seem to notice. “We have more Marshalls, more Chevaliers, are 
training new classes all the time. A rotation is possible.”
She sounded as if she’d made that very argument to the Marshalls. Who’d fought 
for the idea, who hadn’t? He wouldn’t care, but it affected him—as did all the 
new faces at the Castle, the new Chevaliers and Marshalls. With so many, there 
would certainly be more maneuvering for power.
The door to the hall opened and Marwey walked in. For a moment Marrec was 
distracted by the teenager. Just the sight of her made him recall something that 
should stay in the front of his mind: the nexus of Power would center around the 
Exotiques.
Lady Hallard’s eyes hooded. “I value you, as you should know. My Master of the 
Horse is getting on in years. I don’t want to see him fall on the field. I’d 
like to retire him and promote you.”
His gut tensed and mind went a little dizzy with the opportunity spreading 
before him. He hadn’t thought that she regarded him more than anyone else. He 
gulped.
“Excuse me,” Marwey said. “May I have your knife?”
Absently, he unsheathed it and handed it to her, then turned back to Lady 
Hallard. As Master of the Horse, he would be second in command to her. He’d have 
to give her only a quarter of his take. He’d have his own cottage on her estate. 
“Shouldn’t Seeva be Master of the Horse?”
Lady Hallard waved a dismissive hand and raised her brows. “She’s well enough 
off managing Horseshoe Hall. Surely you don’t think I’d put a Chevalier trainee 
in charge of the rest of my men and women?” Lady Hallard had used a lot of 
influence to have Seeva appointed to her current position. It made him wonder if 
she worried about her daughter fighting in the field.
“I’ll think—” His words were lost as a group of Chevaliers flowed out onto the 
terrace. One of them was the very man Lady Hallard had been speaking of, her 
current Master of the Horse, Yan, followed by Seeva. The two joined them, Yan 
walking with a limp as if his joints had stiffened again.
Lady Hallard spoke, “Yan, I’ve told Marrec of our plans.”
The man’s face cleared. “He’s willing?”
“You truly want to retire?” asked Marrec at the same time.
Yan glanced around at the increasing number of people. “The fence posts continue 
to fall, more horrors invade and more often, but we are building an army.” He 
gave a little sigh. “I will miss the action, but the odds are shortening that 
I’d survive the next year or so.” He lifted a shoulder. “We’ll be going all out 
against the Dark, maybe even going on the offensive…”
Lady Hallard opened her mouth, but Yan’s hand stopped her. Marrec envied that. 
Would he be able to make her listen, too?
Continuing, Yan said, “The word in the Castle is that we’ll be finding the Dark 
and attacking.” He rubbed his hands. “I’d like to be in on the planning of it, 
but not the fighting. Bound to be the bloodiest, hardest fighting in 
generations, these next years.” He nodded at Marrec. “You think about it, too.”
Marrec started to reply, when he felt the soft brush of fingers trail over his 
cock, accompanied by an alluring Song he couldn’t catch but strained to hear. He 
shot straight from his casual stance, looked around, though no one was within 
reach of his groin except Hallard and Yan and their hands were in plain sight. 
He shrugged off the sensation, dragged his attention back to the discussion. His 
promotion to the top of Lady Hallard’s ranks. Right.
“I’ll think it over.” He always did. “And I thank you for the honor and believe 
I’ll ag—” His privates were squeezed.
He gasped.
Seeva narrowed her eyes. “It’s the Choosing!”
“What?” asked Lady Hallard. She touched her pocket, swore. “Forgot to put my 
item on the table.”
Shrugging, Seeva said, “It was obvious within a minute that the Exotique had no 
attraction to women’s tokens. That’s why most of us came out here. Still hanging 
around to see what happens and witness the Bonding ritual.”
This time the invisible fingers were less tentative, they firmly stroked his 
erection. The top of his head might just blow off. He wiped an arm across his 
forehead. Suddenly the nice summer evening had become hot, hot. One last slide, 
up and down, had him staggering.
An impish smile curved Seeva’s lips. “I suppose we can imagine what is happening 
to you. What gift did you put on the table?”
“Marwey,” Marrec said, fumbling in his tight pocket for the stone he’d planned 
to place on the table. Too late. Too damn late!
“Breathe!” ordered Lady Hallard.
He sucked in a breath, deeper than the shallow pants he could only manage when 
her fingers, the Exotique’s hand, touched…“My knife.”
“Very appropriate shape, I think,” Seeva choked out. All three of them, Lady 
Hallard, Yan and Seeva, laughed.
Lady Hallard slapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll miss you, boy.”
“Not Chosen yet,” he mumbled.
The fingers were back, running up and down his cock…the hilt of his knife, 
probably. A wet tongue touched the tip of him. By. The. Song. Pure fire sizzled 
through him, his flesh swelling until his breeches were tight. One more long, 
squeezing caress, one more touch of that tongue and he’d be done for.
“Make way,” Seeva called, giving him a little push between the shoulder blades. 
“Get in there, you fool.” A path opened before him, more than one glance going 
to his flushed face, his straining trousers.
Fingers curled gently around his balls and any hint of embarrassment fled in a 
firestorm of need. He stumbled forward, tripped over the tiny threshold between 
terrace and hall and was pushed upright by rough hands. “Watch it,” someone 
growled.
He couldn’t watch anything. He bumped against the wall and leaned his shoulder 
on it, panting. His gaze went straight to the Exotique.
The sight of her stunned him. She glowed like the sun, her hair already the spun 
gold of great Power, not needing to age into that color. She set down his knife 
she’d been holding in front of her face and he was profoundly grateful for the 
relief.
The red mist of lust thinned and he saw why people had streamed onto the 
terrace. Three long tables held a multitude of offerings, but the 
Exotique—Calli!—hovered in the middle of the one closest to him, ignoring 
everything on the other two.
Four tokens were jumbled in front of her: his knife, some purple velvet cloth, 
an object he stared at but couldn’t identify and a golden ring.
She blinked and blinked again, her pupils so dilated her eyes looked black with 
only a brilliant rim of blue. Blue eyes. Blue dress. By the Song, she looked 
amazing in that dress, a dress that was cut like no robe he’d ever seen. 
Exotique maybe, like her. So gorgeous. So stunning. So special.
He had a chance to Pairbond with her and the thought nearly stopped his heart. 
Surely this was the most fabulous, most fantastic experience of his life.
She swayed and he wanted to run and steady her. Protect her. He strode a few 
paces forward; his foot crossed a force line and he hopped back, toes curling 
with shock in his boots. She was well protected from her suitors. He prowled 
back to the side of the room.
Alexa and Marian stood on either side of Calli, steadying her. Marian indicated 
the knife, swept a hand toward Marrec.
“About time,” Alexa said.
He showed her his teeth. More than lust boiled through him. Need. Yearning.
He glanced to a side table where there was another goblet—another aphrodisiac 
for her mate. Along with sharp knives and strips of pure white silk to bind arms 
together.
A growl snagged his attention and he looked to his right. Faucon Creusse sent 
him a feral glance.
Marrec’s ardor cooled so fast he felt the chill of sweat on his body. Unlikely 
he’d be able to prevail against the rich and noble and Powerful Faucon. But 
Marrec stood straight, gave the man a polite nod. He’d be Master of the Horse 
for Lady Hallard, then. With that, he could aspire to having his own land in a 
few years, if the fates were kind.
His woman whimpered. Everything else faded. The lilting Song emanating from her 
wrapped around him like the strongest rope, trapping him, ready to be pulled in 
at her whim.
Calli’s fingers fumbled at the purple velvet cloth. She picked up a floppy hat, 
stroked it, and a groan tore from Faucon. What sort of token was a floppy hat! 
Some effete thing only Faucon could cherish. Marrec sneered at the man, then 
felt unexpected sympathy as he saw Faucon’s shoulders brace against the wall. A 
trickle of sweat ran from the man’s temple. Cords stood out in his neck. With a 
little approving hum, Calli rubbed the nap of the hat, lifted it to her face and 
stroked it against her cheek.
From the corner of his eye, Marrec saw Faucon’s body ripple with shudder after 
shudder.
“Is that what you want, Calli?” Marian asked. Marrec didn’t know how he knew the 
foreign words she spoke, perhaps because Calli knew them and they still had a 
connection, his knife was still before her, with the two other tokens.
“Maybe,” Calli said, voice thin.
Now Marrec could see the toll the drug took. A faint sheen of sweat covered 
every inch of bare skin he could see, enhancing her glow. Her face was pinker 
than he recalled, her eyes blacker. Her nipples had hardened into nubs.
“Maybe,” she said again. Calli held the hat in one hooked finger. Faucon had 
stopped shuddering, pushed against the wall he’d slid down and stood straight, 
shaking out his limbs. His gaze fastened on Calli.
She slipped the ring up and down her finger and a new Chevalier Marrec had 
briefly met fell to the floor and arched, letting out a long moan of release. 
Calli stared at him, made a moue and set the ring aside.
Marrec and Faucon shared a glance. The woman wanted stamina and control. Marrec 
wiped sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. Faucon grinned fiercely.
“The little snot,” Koz said. Marrec didn’t recognize the word. One of those 
Exotique Terre phrases. Did Koz have all the advantage, being mostly Exotique 
himself? An Exotique soul in a Lladranan body? Merde.
Calli picked up a gray metallic circle that looked like steel, but finer, 
stronger than Marrec ever had seen. It dangled a little charm that was 
completely unrecognizable. She smiled, toyed with the charm. Koz jerked 
straight, his head knocked back as if someone had struck him in the jaw.
“Vrrrooom,” she said.
Koz whimpered. Shook his head, and yelled strange words, “Put that down! I’m 
done for.” Marrec didn’t know what that meant, but she dropped the item and Koz 
folded to the floor in a cross-legged position, back damp and rising and falling 
with his panting breath. His hair had come loose from the tie and swung in front 
of his face. Marrec thought Koz had just forfeited his chance, too, but didn’t 
feel too bad. The man had a huge estate and enough zhiv to last him a lifetime. 
He’d been rich in Exotique Terre and had brought jewels and gold to Lladrana 
when he came.
Two of them left. People began to filter back into the room; the noise level 
rose with interest. With bets. Marrec figured he was the long shot.
He and Faucon eyed each other. Faucon straightened and Marrec realized he’d 
fallen into a slouch. He stiffened his spine, too, jutted his chin, tucked his 
thumbs into his pants, then looked back to Calli.
She stood blinking down at the last two offerings. Faucon’s silly hat and 
Marrec’s knife. Damn, he wished he would have put in his stone! That might have 
given him a better chance. It might be over by now with a clean win for him 
instead of him standing here with sweat trickling down his back, providing 
speculation and entertainment for an audience.
Calli stroked the hat. Faucon shoved back against the wall to brace himself, his 
jaw clenched. Her fingers left the purple velvet and closed around the hilt of 
Marrec’s knife.
Song save him! Her touch was warm, caressing. Tightened around the knife, his 
own hard shaft. She smiled. He hoped he wouldn’t disgrace himself. Then she took 
a stumbling step back from the table. Alexa and Marian hovered around her, 
questioning her in Exotique Terre language.
Calli nibbled her bottom lip, held firmer to the knife, brought Marrec to his 
knees.
“Yes,” she slurred.
She couldn’t have chosen him!
Lady Knight Swordmarshall Thealia Germaine’s cool gaze snagged his. “Marrec 
Gardpont, arise and come here for the Binding Ceremony.”
A wave of pleased shouting roared around him. Two men hauled him to his feet, 
slapped him on the back, hauled him toward the table. Thealia brought him behind 
it, where his bride waited to be blood bound with him. Forever. A coeurdechain. 
What had he done?
Volaran trumpeting sounded through the room, from Power, not equine lungs. We 
did it! We did it! Dark Lance sent to his mind, then took off to fly in 
exuberance. Won the Volaran Exotique. Will be admired above all.
Oh, yeah. That’s why he did it. For glory, for zhiv, for an estate.
Calli looked into his eyes, her own so large, he thought he fell into them. Her 
face showed exquisite vulnerability. His heart caught.
For the woman.
He had to believe that this was right. That the Song had guided her. That her 
Power had led her to choose him because they were meant for each other.
Then her Song surrounded him, pulsed through him, connected from his knife to 
him, sifting through blood and muscle and bone and it was the most fascinating 
music he’d ever heard, full of brightness and shadows, unexpected twists and 
turns. It pulled him on a visceral level, instinctively pleasing, caressing him 
with the notes and chords.
“Drink,” said Swordmarshall Thealia.
Riding on a wave of triumphant lust, he gulped the full goblet down. He’d been 
expecting something nasty, but it was rare orange juice and mead, made 
effervescent by Power.
The potion’s effect was immediate. His vision blurred, then narrowed until all 
he saw was the woman. The fabulous woman. A fantasy woman.
She was frowning and wandering back down the tables. The room spun a little. His 
brain was slowing. What was he doing just standing here when his Pairling was 
getting away from him? She stopped at the last table and swayed, held on to the 
edge, staring at something. He tried to follow her gaze and noticed that all the 
objects on the tables shone with a repulsive glow.
Except one at the very last table. Some small item—a brown lock of volaran hair 
tied with a multicolored ribbon. The ribbon twisted and throbbed with a 
compelling mixture of colors—bright yellow, sickly green, orange-red, 
black-blue. The combination tantalized, mesmerized. Pulsed with wrongness.
Calli reached for it.
15 
T hat shocked him into motion. “Ttho!”
Her hand hovered as she turned her head to him, eyes wide and uncomprehending. 
Surely she must know the word no!
“Ttho!” he shouted louder. Heard a few snickers as if he was a jealous fool 
overreacting. You couldn’t overreact to evil. All his movements clumsy, he 
stumbled toward her.
She focused on him and a sweet smile lit her face. She said something and the 
other two Exotiques chuckled behind him.
One more long stride. Then he had her caught close against his heart, soft and 
warm against him. Oh, she deserved to be kissed. How had he resisted kissing her 
over the last interminable two days since he first saw her? He should have 
claimed her then, the minute she’d appeared in the Temple. He’d wanted her from 
then. Tipping up her chin, he lowered his mouth to hers and pressed his lips 
against her plump red ones and a thousand tiny explosions set him afire. No more 
waiting.
He traced his tongue over the junction of her lips and she opened her mouth for 
him and he explored it and tasted a flavor he’d never known before, a taste that 
became instantly addictive. Her back was bowed toward him under his hands, but 
he wanted her closer. Needed to be inside her, her wet heat clamping around him. 
Now.
Hard hands grabbed both his arms and tore her away from him. He struggled, let 
up a fierce cry of loss, of battle. He was slapped.
Think, man! said a cold, smooth voice from his left, his sword arm. “It is time 
to bond with her,” Luthan Vauxveau said.
“Bed as soon as you do,” said Bastien with a chuckle. The man holding him on his 
right.
Thought crept in. He wanted Calli more than anything else in his life and if he 
bloodbonded with a…a…whatever the word was, he’d have her forever.
“Mine. My woman,” he said, just to make it clear. Three other women—Alexa, 
Marian and Thealia—had surrounded her and were herding her to the little table 
with the knives and strips.
Coeurdechain. That was the word he wanted. That was the bond he wanted. The 
forever bond.
“Your woman,” Bastien agreed.
Marrec stopped fighting the hands that still gripped him. Caught sight of 
Calli’s arm being washed and anointed, held out for the cuts that would make 
them one. He surged toward her.
Thealia stepped in front of him. “Right or left handed?” asked Thealia.
She’d never bothered to notice before. A sting of bitterness nipped at him. Then 
he realized his emotions were being amplified. He’d have to be careful.
“My right arm is my shield arm,” he said thickly. He turned his head away. Other 
faces swam in his vision, watching him—Lady Hallard, Yan, Seeva. He blinked and 
looked for his archrival, Faucon. The man wasn’t there. He’d lost the lady. 
Marrec grinned. He’d won!
Neither was the new Chevalier with the gold ring. Koz was there, though. Marrec 
could gloat over Koz—that Exotique-Lladranan was as rich as Faucon, had at least 
two estates. Marrec winked at him. Koz winked back.
Marrec laughed, paying little attention to the cool wetness on his arm, the 
tingling of the herbal oil. Even the slicing of his vein was no more than a 
sharp bite, quickly over.
“Look at your lady and say the words,” pressured Luthan.
His lady. She was that—and more, and less. The passion of their entwined Songs 
was strong enough to last a lifetime, and the rhythms of one of the harmonies of 
her Song hinted at the earthiness of a woman who lived close to the land. A 
strong woman who could turn wild in bed. Marrec gazed at his woman, his lady. 
Her face was lovely, the shape of her lips and eyes, her coloring, different and 
perfect.
A tiny tube was inserted in her left arm. He flinched. “Don’t hurt her!”
“All over now,” soothed Thealia.
He growled at her. She took his right arm and connected the other end. Calli’s 
blood pumped into him, bringing a flood of strange images—mountains, not quite 
as tall or as massive as Lladrana’s. A yellow sun, much like their own, a 
cloudless day with a blue, blue sky the shade not at all like his own.
Feelings swamped him. The love for the land. Deep, abiding hurt and betrayal 
from a tall, lean, older man with bitter lines chiseled on his face.
“I’ll kill him for you,” Marrec offered.
Father, she said in his mind and he could understand her. Because of the 
feelings, the images, the knowledge of Equine she’d already learned.
Father. Oops. But the man had hurt her, and that was not allowed. Not allowed 
that anyone should hurt this person who was becoming his. Someone to love. After 
all these years. Another person to love who would love him back.
And he knew that thought resonated and spiraled back and forth between them.
He yearned to hold her. Looking down, he saw their arms bound together. He 
touched her shoulder with his free hand, curling his fingers over it. Her 
muscles were strong and flexible, and quivered under his touch.
His vision dimmed as images came from her of sex in darkened rooms, arousing him 
again, even as his memories of his own infrequent sexual encounters with tavern 
women or another Chevalier siphoned into her.
Calli made a rough, wanting noise, tipped forward into him…and was pulled away, 
to his side instead of his aching front.
“Ttho!” they cried out simultaneously. She knew “no” now.
Her Song had already captured him—bright and fierce and free, the essence of a 
first volaran flight, with threads of harmonies and rhythms he only half heard, 
like wisps of cloud against his face, the slant of warm sun against his skin.
“Vows, now!” Thealia commanded.
Bastien’s hand turned Marrec’s face to his. “Hold on, Marrec. You need to say 
the vows to complete the ritual magic. They’re long, and we know you didn’t have 
the Lorebook to memorize them like Faucon, so just repeat each phrase after me. 
This is important.”
“Important.” He nodded. Calli’s blood trickled into him, ebbing and flowing like 
a tide, as his mingled with hers. He liked the feel of it, slick and sensual, 
licking flames brighter and hotter within him. He straightened his shoulders.
“I, Marrec Simon Gardpont, offer my body and heart, soul and Song to you, 
Callista Mae Torcher,” Bastien said.
Marrec rattled off the sentence, settled deeper into the Power that whirled 
around him, so thick he could see it. Streams of Power, drifts of Songs from 
everyone in the room. The people near him glowed with Power, especially Alexa 
and Marian and Calli.
“I,” said Alexa.
“I,” repeated Calli.
“Callista Mae Torcher,” Alexa said.
“Callista Mae Torcher,” parroted Calli.
“Offer,” Alexa said.
“Offer.”
And so it went, the whole long vows, archaic and arcane words he barely 
understood even when he wasn’t drugged. He repeated phrases or sentences. Calli 
said them word by word.
The atmosphere in the room hummed with more than the Power of all who were in 
it. The air thickened, took on the scent of a coming thunderstorm. Night 
gathered and dimmed the room, adding to the mystery. Marrec thought he could 
hear the ultimate Song—the whispery, sliding revolution of the stars.
Every so often a different-smelling herbal strip was tied, binding their arms 
together, at elbow, mid-forearm, wrist. Marrec watched, noting the paleness of 
Calli’s skin, so translucent as to show blue veins. Utterly fascinating.
He promised one last vow, desperately hoping he’d remember his oaths in the 
morning, and felt as if the last syllable echoed through the hall, through the 
sky, to far-off galaxies. A single note so pure in tone, so Powerful he would 
have fallen to his knees had he not been supported, so touching it brought tears 
to his eyes, rang in his head.
His vision cleared and he saw the woman before him, looking at him. Promises in 
her eyes, too, vows whispering tremulously from her lips.
They connected. Beyond blood, beyond memories, beyond anything else, their souls 
touched and clung together.
The hall rang with cheers and shouts and Song. The Wedding Song everyone knew by 
heart rose to encompass them. He found himself singing. Celebrating the joy this 
bonding gave him. She smiled, but didn’t sing.
She didn’t know the words, he realized. She didn’t know him, didn’t know his 
culture, but she was entrusting herself to him. He’d never felt so humbled. He 
lifted their bound arms and pressed a kiss in the hollow of her palm.
Bastien slapped him on the shoulder, and with that touch the clarity that had 
come to his mind dimmed once more.
“Bedtime,” Bastien said, his voice still rich with humor.
“Bedtime.” Marrec’s own whisper was hoarse, but a grin stretched his lips. 
Bedtime. Sex time. He was ready.
“Luthan will witness.”
“Witness!” The word nearly shocked him out of his preoccupation with sex and his 
lady. “Ttho.”
“He’ll keep watch in the entryway of the tower suite. Only one door to the 
rooms.”
“Tower suite?” Marrec mumbled. Memories of every horse Calli had ever ridden 
were flashing from her to him. He got the notion that she was considering him a 
stallion of a man, and a brief surge of wariness dulled his passion.
Bastien pulled Marrec’s left arm over his shoulders. He wasn’t as tall as 
Marrec, but his shoulders were wide and he made a good prop. “Move your feet,” 
Bastien grunted. “You can shuffle, at least.”
Behind Calli, some man put his hands on her hips to steady her. Marrec felt her 
instant alarm. Not my man! Who? He glanced to his side, the side being warmed by 
Calli, the side receiving tingles of attraction from her aura, and looked at the 
hands, then up at the face.
“Jaquar,” he said, and the image of the man went from his mind to hers.
Oh. She relaxed a little. Interesting, he fumbled the thought. She trusted 
Jaquar.
A recollection of the man saving her from falling sped from her, and Marrec’s 
heart jumped. She’d nearly been broken again on hard flagstones!
Didn’t happen, she whispered mentally. For some reason he got an image of a big 
red circle with a bar slanting through it.
She leaned her head against his shoulder. I trust you.
And he saw himself in her memories.
Her impression of him had been of a man who was tall and broad shouldered, with 
a strong jaw and handsome. Handsome! A glimpse of him, brows lowered in 
concentration during the Summoning, serious when she woke up and noticed him in 
the Healing Room, strained after the battle.
Faucon was in more of her memories, smooth and easy and smiling…but again the 
red circle with the bar was laid across his image. Not for me. Too handsome. Too 
charming…just too.
Marrec’s heart tumbled. He shook his head to shove aside her memories to look at 
her…and her drugged gaze rose to his. Yum.
Alexa snorted, Bastien hooted. They’d heard! But Marrec was so involved with his 
woman he didn’t care.
“This way. A little turn, here,” Bastien said, and the group of them moved to 
the bottom of a staircase. Marrec looked up, squinted. “Lotsa stairs.”
Calli responded to this by showing a box that moved straight up and down, 
opening to let people in and out. Marrec jerked at the strange image. Something 
from her past life.
“Elevator!” she said, and he guessed she meant the box. Suddenly he had views of 
massive buildings spearing the sky, disgorging more people than he’d ever seen 
together at one time. He swayed.
“Easy.” The hands on his shoulders weren’t Bastien’s, though he’d sensed Bastien 
had seen such things, too. Jaquar was speaking in his ear. “Just let the 
strangeness flow through you. Don’t stop and look and try to question or 
understand the images. Let the coeurdechain bind you body and heart and soul and 
Song, but don’t dwell on her old life. That way lies madness. Believe me, I 
know.”
It took Marrec a moment to sort out those ideas, and by the time he did, he was 
marching up the stairs. He caught Jaquar’s eye and nodded, then stared at the 
Circlet. He had blue eyes, too, a darker blue than Calli’s. And didn’t Marian 
have another shade of blue? Incredible. Many colors of blue eyes.
Bastien poked him. “You’re tilting my way. Watch where you’re going. Up, now.”
Squinting, Marrec glanced upward. “Don’t know this place.”
“Knight Marshall’s tower,” Bastien said.
Marrec stopped. “Ttho.”
“Ayes!” commanded Thealia. She was the Knight Marshall.
“Not yours.” He sort of remembered that she had her own tower and hadn’t moved 
when she’d become Knight Marshall. “Whose?”
“It used to be Reynard Vauxveau’s,” Thealia reminded him.
“Bastard.”
Bastien gave a short laugh. “That my father was.”
“Beg pardon.” Marrec hazily thought Luthan must be around, too, craned his neck, 
found the man and repeated, “Beg pardon.”
“Nice guy,” Calli said happily. “Isn’t he a nice guy?” She wasn’t speaking 
Lladranan, but Marrec could understand her.
“We’ve redecorated the top suite for the Singer,” Thealia soothed. “You can have 
the fourth level.”
Marrec grunted. “Getting tired now.” Calli’s many-layered Song was in his skin, 
running with his blood, but her life before Lladrana also spilled from her to 
him, flashing images and smells and sounds and even tactile impressions that he 
couldn’t begin to understand. The horses and ranch had been the easy part. He 
slowed.
Bastien poked him in the back. “Almost there.”
Huh! There must be at least ten more stairs.
But his steps slowed. “Feet feel funny. A little numb.”
“You’ll be fine once you get horizontal,” Jaquar said. “Trust me.” His voice 
lilted. “Better than fine.”
“You don’t think he’ll pass out before they physically mate?” Bastien asked, 
prodding Marrec’s ego.
“Sex,” said Marrec. The thought energized him. He slanted a glance at the lady 
by his side. The pretty Exotique lady with lighter skin than his own and golden 
hair and blue eyes. Whose soft arm was bound to his. Whose luscious breasts 
showed under the slick-looking dress that made him long to tongue and taste. He 
hurried up and reached the semicircular anteroom. Made straight for the large 
wooden and leather-trapped pointed door with an impressive doorharp on it. 
“Bed.”
“That’s the way,” Bastien encouraged.
Marrec reached his right hand for the doorknob and stared at Calli’s pretty 
fingers that found the fancily patterned brass knob and caressed it. He 
swallowed.
“Let me cut you out of your shirt and tunic,” Luthan said matter-of-factly.
“Cut me out! They’re my best,” Marrec said, leaning hard on Bastien, trying to 
move away from the knife gleaming in Luthan’s hand.
“Hold still,” Bastien said. “They’re your best clothes today. Tomorrow you’ll 
get better.”
That didn’t make sense. “What?”
“Tonight you bond in a coeurdechain with an Exotique. Tomorrow she will be 
gifted with an estate—” Bastien’s hand spread wide “—volarans, zhiv. You just 
married an heiress, boy. You’re rich.”
Rich. The very thought made his heart thump. Land and a home in the rolling 
hills, a beautiful stone house. Volarans.
Bastien pulled the shirt from him.
Cool air gave him gooseflesh, but not as much as when Calli slid her hands 
against his bare chest.
“Oooh,” she said. “Yum!”
Everyone laughed and Marrec understood there were a lot more people in the room 
than he’d thought. He blinked around, saw faces, mostly couples. Jaquar and 
Marian, Thealia and Partis, Mace and Clua, Bastien and Alexa. Luthan. Koz.
“Luthan will now take you to the bedroom. Be glad we live in enlightened and 
trusting times, otherwise he would have had to stay to make sure you two truly 
bonded.” Bastien wiggled his eyebrows. “Worshipping each other with your 
bodies.”
Bastien squeezed Marrec’s arm. “Sink into your balance. I’m going to let go.”
Marrec grabbed the rhythm of his own innate Song, loosened his knees and 
centered his gravity. Bastien let go and Marrec stood alone, with Calli leaning 
a little against him.
Gently pulling Calli’s fingers from the doorknob, Luthan unlocked the door and 
pushed it inward. The scent of more, fresh herbs, expensive herbs, wafted out. 
Luthan appeared pale. When he spoke, his lips didn’t move much. “Follow me.”
Walk? Marrec took a tentative step. Calli lurched against him. He bent their 
arms behind her back to stabilize them. Looking down at her, he said, “We walk 
together.”
She stared at him for a few seconds, then nodded. Marrec put his left foot out 
in a step. She did the same, then looked up at him as if for approval. He 
smiled. Slowly they walked into the narrow hallway, barely wide enough for them, 
went to the door Luthan held open, to a tiny space and another door, then sidled 
one by one into the bedroom.
The lights came on as they entered.
“Ohh,” Calli sighed.
It was the most elegant room he’d ever seen, intimidating with its luxury.
They fell onto the bed, him on the bottom.
16 
H e opened his mouth to Calli’s passionate kiss. Her tongue dueled with his and 
she moaned. Her free hand continued to pet his chest. Then she spread her legs 
on the other side of his and straightened, wriggling until her sweet sex was 
atop his. He thought she was wet, he knew she was hot.
He was hard.
With her free hand, she snapped the shoulders of her gown open. The slinky 
material slipped down her torso, leaving her gorgeous breasts free, creamy 
tipped with red nipples. He gasped.
Magic, she whispered in her mind, but he heard Power. She flung her head back, a 
laugh rippling from her that rang like chimes in her Song. A delightful, 
harmonizing tinkle of notes that should have reminded him of sprites and 
fairies, but instead brought a surge of possessiveness. This woman was his.
He watched his own hand tremble as he reached up to shape her right breast and 
wished desperately that his other hand was free so he could cherish her flesh 
the way he wanted. He brushed his thumb across her small, tight nipple and she 
arched against him and his sex swelled longer and thicker. His hips bucked, and 
his length slipped against her hot softness. He swore.
Breeches off! Their arms tied together hadn’t seemed too awkward until now.
She blinked, pressed her hand over his on her breast. He trembled, fought for 
control. Any more rubbing against his cock and he’d embarrass himself. His 
breath came harsh to his ears. Sweat tickled his temple.
Concentrate on her. On Calli. But just looking at her made him dizzy with 
passion, her breast, smooth and pale in his hand, his skin several shades 
darker—different, except where scars showed white. Her mouth was slightly open, 
her lips the same color as her nipples and he thought he’d go mad seeing her so 
lost in her own desire.
“Please,” he rasped.
Her lips curved, she looked down at him from under her lashes. You please me.
“Inside you!” He’d never begged. He’d never been so blunt.
She stared down at him. Hot.
Oh, yes, he was hot.
She took his hand from her breast and trailed it down her body. Her skin was 
smooth. He took as much pleasure in the feathery touch as she did. Their hands 
slid down and he ached to touch her, but she wore some piece of underwear 
covering her that rose up to her hips.
High-cut panties. The phrase made no sense. He slid a finger around the edge at 
her waist, but she didn’t want that. She pouted. Too many clothes.
He agreed.
She lifted, slithered out of the dress and the undergarment. They crossed his 
body with slick caresses that sent his mind away. Then her fingers were on the 
buttons of his leathers, opening the fly. She stopped, head tilted, and stared 
and he wanted to whimper. Hesitantly her fingers touched him through his 
loincloth and piercing desire racked him. His own Song went rough, uneven, 
primal. With a twist and a wrench of cloth he freed himself.
Calli made a purring noise from the depth of her throat. Her hand swept to him. 
He caught her seeking fingers. His lips felt swollen, his tongue thick. “Sex. 
Now!” He pushed both arms behind her back, pulled her toward him and her moist 
folds slid over him.
“Yes!” she cried, rising, freeing her hand, impaling herself upon him.
And she rode him.
Their Songs merged, their blood pounded from one to another, they strove to 
completion. They reached the peak and fell, and Sang.
And flew. Together.
Long moments passed before Marrec became aware of himself as individual from the 
universe, mind separate but still touching Calli’s sleeping one. She lay atop 
him, her breath tickling his throat. Images of her life still flitted before his 
vision—a lovely summer day riding bareback, her spirit lifted by the freedom, a 
dark room that held emotional tones of fear and anguish.
For the first time he wondered what memories passed from him to her. If he 
hadn’t been so boneless from flattening sex, he’d have tensed, but he didn’t 
think he could move a muscle. His memories. He didn’t like to recall some 
himself, let alone burden a rare and wonderful woman like Calli with them. 
Probably no way to stop them, those few terrible remnants of memory of the 
slaughter of his village by horrors.
He still wasn’t sure how he’d escaped the bloodbath, except he’d been angry with 
his brothers and parents and had taken an old blanket and curled up in a corner 
under the bed. When the door had crashed open in their cottage and renders and 
slayers tumbled through he’d frozen in horror. They’d dragged his family from 
their beds. The horrors had shrieked with glee as his parents and brothers 
screamed in terror, the monsters’ hideous Songs engorging on the fear, as if it 
fueled them. Slashing, ripping. Two minutes and it was over and the horrors were 
gone, leaving the red shreds of blood, white shards of bone of Marrec’s family 
behind them. He didn’t know how long he huddled there, until the night fell 
silent, until he had to see what happened to the rest.
Calli mewled, shook her head, tears trickling down from under her closed eyes to 
land on his neck. His free arm wrapped around her. What was he doing, sending 
what he recalled to her? He hadn’t thought of that day for years…but he wasn’t 
sure how the coeurdechain worked, hadn’t paid much attention to the snippets of 
discussion he’d heard. That cost him now. But if they were bonded like this for 
a full twenty-four hours, most of what they remembered, emotions included, would 
cycle, he supposed.
She had no memories of the horrors. He had plenty, from that day that shattered 
his life, to following the trail of them, seeing the brief battle between 
Chevaliers and the horrors, sidling up to a young volaran with an injured wing, 
Dark Lance, standing next to its fallen partner. Calli shouldn’t have to know 
of, experience what he had, of the monsters.
Except now that she was bound to him, she’d be fighting them.
His jaw clenched. He didn’t want that. Didn’t want her with him in battle. 
Didn’t want her harmed. Didn’t want her bright spirit tarnished.
Too late, wasn’t it? What would happen if he tore off the strips binding them 
together, refused the full coeurdechain? His chest constricted.
They had already taken vows. The Powerful ritual had already been completed. 
This bloodbonding was important, but it was only part of the coeurdechain. When 
he thought of the oaths they’d exchanged, the words sounded like a stream of 
silver bell tones in his mind. The Powerful Song of the ceremony itself, their 
Songs intertwined with the vows, made a bond that couldn’t be broken without 
deep cost to them both.
Their lives had changed forever.
She was in a strange land, hardly anything like what she’d previously known. 
Horses and ranching, that was all, he figured, but that was enough for 
commonality between them. So most everything here in Lladrana would be 
different. He promised himself to help her settle in every way he could.
So she wouldn’t leave with the Snap.
Immediate anxiety spiraled through him. No. She couldn’t leave. Could she?
He didn’t know. He ground his teeth. He’d been too damn focused on his own life, 
his old plans, to listen to others chat about the coeurdechain, to look at the 
Lorebooks of Bonding left on the study tables in the library at Horseshoe Hall. 
Merde, he’d been a fool!
But he’d never thought he’d win this golden woman. Now, he’d learn everything he 
could. He’d read, dammit, until he understood, while they worked together.
That was the most important thing that had changed in his own life. He had a 
Pairling now, and they would fight as a Pair. Her Shield to his Sword, he was 
sure. Calli was too soft to be a Sword like Alexa, wasn’t she? He reached for 
her memories, the fiercest ones, and found her riding fast and hard around 
barrels. Racing. Competing. He marveled at the speed and grace of others she 
watched, of the feel of her body when she…barrel raced. Yes, she’d been intense 
and fought in that arena and he probed a little deeper for the why.
Because she had an ambition to train horses. Because she wanted to make her 
ranch a center of training. Because she yearned to please her father.
A hoarse sound tore from him. An angry noise. He despised her father for 
treating her like a person of little import, for not recognizing her value and 
loving her. The man was worthless.
So Calli had fought for her father, for her vocation and if she’d stayed on 
Exotique Terre, she’d have battled her father for the land. But she was on 
Lladrana and here she’d fly into battle against monsters.
Marrec wasn’t sure what Alexa had been in a former life, but thought that she 
might have been some sort of warrior. Calli was horse trainer, a homemaker. Yes, 
she’d be Shield to his Sword, and that was a relief. She’d be out of most of the 
action. If he was clever he could work with Alexa and Bastien on the field, have 
Calli fly near Bastien, another Shield who was one of the best fighters Marrec 
knew. Though Alexa and Bastien were Marshalls, part of that elite team.
Marrec could become a Marshall now, if he wanted. The notion appealed, then he 
realized he was stroking Calli’s soft hair and knew she wouldn’t want to do 
that. She wanted a ranch, she wanted to train horses, she wanted to enhance the 
partnership between volaran and human. He could help her with all those goals.
 
Calli woke and found Marrec looking at her. Her new husband. She sat up 
straight, then froze.
She’d learned some of the planes of his body—the ones she could reach with her 
right hand—and how interesting it was that he was a southpaw—he’d been inside 
her. But now she wasn’t drugged.
Now was the time to face the music.
The music was awesome. Her Song flowed through her like the tide and she heard 
much of it. She suspected others, he, heard more, nuances she didn’t recognize 
in herself. But she heard his, the beating of his heart, now picking up pace as 
they locked gazes. The melody of him ran in her head and her blood, and was now 
a part of her.
This stranger.
What had she done?
“Shh,” he said, expression serious. He reached out and smoothed her hair. She 
bit her lip. Her hair must be a wreck, her body…she glanced down and saw the 
bruises from the day before, the scars from the operations on Earth.
“Beautiful,” he said, and there was a tone in his voice she’d never heard from 
any man, from anyone. She understood the language. Alexa and Marian had told her 
she would, but she hadn’t really believed it. Maybe she hadn’t really believed 
anything and now she was married! Was there any way to go on disbelieving? The 
steadiness of the man’s eyes made her think not.
She licked her lips. “Marrec.” Memories called up by that name flooded her, not 
her own. His mother saying it in a fretful tone, his father impatiently, his 
brothers teasingly. Seeva. Yan. People who she’d never met but somehow knew 
through him. And those she knew, Lady Hallard, Alexa, Bastien.
He inclined his head. “Callista Mae Torcher.” Now his eyes shadowed as if he saw 
her memories.
Calli flopped back onto the bed, staring at the inside of the canopy. “What 
next?” she said and was surprised to hear her voice speaking Lladranan. That was 
really strange, too.
“Our arms are bound together until this evening. I need to pee.”
Well, that was down to earth enough, and now that he mentioned it…She sat up, 
didn’t look at him. “If this suite is arranged the same way as Alexa’s, the 
bathroom is to my right.” Meeting his gaze in a fleeting glance, she saw he 
still wore a sober expression, realized she’d never seen him smile.
“I smile,” he said.
She looked at him. He wasn’t.
“When appropriate,” he said.
That made her smile.
His lips slightly curved.
This was her husband. She stared at him…rectangular face with a few lines around 
the eyes, respectably wide silver at both temples that denoted Power…
“These were narrow until your healing. I wasn’t very Powerful until then.” He 
touched the side of his head.
“No?” she whispered.
“No. You should understand from your memories that you Pairbonded with a 
penniless Chevalier, average in Power.” He swept the covers off himself, turned 
them both until they faced the curved wall of the tower and the sectioned-off 
wedge of wall that held the bathroom.
Lifting her chin, she said, “I do not Pairbond with average men. I chose you. 
You have Power. You have courage. Furthermore, you speak Equine with your 
volaran. He respects you. All that means you are exceptional.”
“Does it?”
“Yes.”
He took the lead in getting off the bed. She admired his build, the width of his 
shoulders, his muscularity, though he looked a bit too thin. He stood, waiting. 
She took a big breath and shoved the covers aside and wished she could be more 
casual about nudity.
“Beautiful woman,” he said and lifted their joined arms to kiss her fingers. 
“Beautiful Calli.” Naturally the way he said it, with his Lladranan accent, had 
her trembling inside, but her pleasure at the compliment rose in a hum around 
them. She stood still.
“Disconcerting,” he said. “To hear Songs, our Songs, so strongly and with the 
ears and not only the mind.”
“Yes,” she said.
The next few minutes in the bathroom as they relieved themselves and washed 
their hands were horribly embarrassing to Calli, but Marrec was matter-of-fact 
about it.
He glanced at the wooden shower cabinet. “I prefer bathing.”
She sighed. “I prefer showering.”
His brows dipped. “I don’t know what facilities we have in our suite at 
Horseshoe Hall. Probably only a shower, but the baths on the lowest level of the 
hall are the best in the Castle.”
“Your culture bathes together, men and women.”
“That’s right.” He paused. “I have heard that both Alexa and Marian hesitate to 
do this.”
“We usually bathe alone in our culture. Or with lovers. Upon rare occasions we 
might bathe with others of our own sex.” Once or twice when she’d been in Denver 
during the National Western Stockshow she’d gone to a bathhouse during Ladies’ 
Day. Nudity had been no big deal there. On the other hand, there had also been a 
mixture of races. She was only one of three white females here in Lladrana.
“What next?”
He met her eyes. “I’m hungry. We’ll probably eat with the Marshalls this 
morning.” He frowned. “Though everyone may expect us to stay in.” His gaze 
traveled down her and now he did smile. “We could stay in. Order breakfast in.”
Her mind skittered. What would be running away? Staying here with this new man 
who knew a lot about her now, and intimately, and hiding from the rest of the 
almost-strangers she’d known for two days? Or not facing all that personal flow 
of emotions, memories from her to him and vice versa by distracting herself with 
food?
He stroked her hair. “Or we could go bathe and choose land for our descendants.”
Her eyes showed dread. One of her memories cycled between them again and again. 
Her in a bed of white sheets, a man in a white coat. A medica. She couldn’t have 
children anymore. Her fall and infection and surgeries had made that impossible.
His gasp was one of pain. The emotional blow was bitter. Stupid! Before last 
night he’d had only vague dreams of children, since he could only support 
himself and Dark Lance. But in the misty recesses of his mind, he’d wanted 
children. A boy. A girl. A family.
She got as far away from him as possible. Didn’t look at him, and he finally 
noticed her grief. She’d wanted children, too. More, she’d had concrete plans 
for them, had ideas to change her home and her business for them. She’d thought 
out how to care for them and had hoped her children would love the land and 
horse training—and her father—as much as she. She’d painted a rosy picture of 
herself and her children and her father as a happy family, with her husband as 
an indistinct but loving figure. Yet, she’d intended her children would be her 
greatest comfort in life.
And now she only had him. Definitely a husband. Not indistinct, not too loving. 
He swallowed the bitterness. He was good at dealing with reality. “We can talk 
about this later.”
Not looking at him, she shook her head. “I think we should discuss it now.”
He gritted his teeth. He’d have liked a little time. He shrugged. “All right.”
“I still want a family,” she whispered, head averted. “Can’t we adopt?”
The idea spun in his head like a pair of thrown dice in a game of high stakes. 
“Adopt?”
“On Exotique Terre there are unwanted children. Isn’t that true, here?”
He’d been a refugee, tolerated as part of the staff of a large, noble estate, a 
lost child. He and Calli could do better in raising lost children.
“The Song,” he forced the words from his mouth. He should be so grateful this 
morning, dreams coming true. “The Song would not have paired me with you if I 
couldn’t accept you with all your…all of you.” He needed to believe that.
She glanced up at him now, wariness in her eyes. “With all my flaws.” Her 
fingers brushed his cheek and he felt the Power of them surge straight to his 
groin, deeper, sink into his bones. She was his.
“And the Song chose me for you, despite…” Her lips curved slightly and he 
realized she was teasing, and that slammed into him with crushing tenderness. No 
one had teased him since he’d been a child with his own family. After that, he’d 
always taken life very, very seriously and people had respected that. When he’d 
been noticed, as if his moods had ever been of the slightest consideration. Not 
often. He dropped his head to her shoulder and smelled the sweet earthiness of 
her, of their pairing.
“Yes,” he ground out the words. “I have flaws, too. Many.” Fear had driven him 
when he was a teen. He’d chosen to serve under Lady Hallard when she’d visited 
his old master and offered him a place. He’d striven to become a Chevalier 
instead of working in a stable all his life. That climb had taken longer than 
he’d anticipated, and along with the battles, had simply worn him down. For a 
while. But he’d taken the defection of the volarans as his own personal alarm. 
It had scared him to the bottom of his soul. He’d be nothing without Dark Lance.
Correction. He’d have been nothing. Now he’d risen to the heady top of the 
status ladder overnight. Was the fact that he’d rediscovered his ambition, his 
fight, one of the reasons that the Song had gifted this woman to him? He thought 
so.
Awkwardly, he picked up their joined hands, turned them over and pressed a kiss 
into her palm.
Her head lifted and she looked at him with wide eyes, as if she’d rarely 
received affection. Perhaps despite their appearance, they were two of a kind. 
“We’ll adopt,” he said roughly.
When she smiled, their shared Song rose inside him, beautiful and potent, and 
brought with it the sound of volaran wings and the whisper of long, verdant 
grass from a place that could be their home.
He glanced away, cleared his throat. “I think we should bathe and eat,” he said.
She glanced at him and nodded. “Let’s face the Marshalls and whatever else we 
need to do—choose the land.”
“Very well.” He tugged on her and started walking toward a door. “We must 
dress.”
Calli saw the shreds of his clothes tossed around and her beautiful blue dress. 
She liked it, but didn’t want to slither into it for breakfast.
On a chest were folded clothes; pants easy to get into, and special sleeveless 
shirts that buttoned on the shoulders and along the sides. They were the 
Exotique color of purple.
Another short interval of humiliation and they were dressed and ready to go.
She opened the door to find Alexa and Marian lounging in deep chairs set in the 
semicircular entryway.
“We want to bathe,” Calli said.
“Where’s Luthan?” Marrec asked.
Bastien strolled up the stairs and into the room. Grinning wickedly, he said, 
“My upright brother didn’t stay long. Just long enough to hear screams of 
delight, by which sound—and the Bonding Song emanating from the suite—he cannily 
deduced that the consummation of the marriage had occurred.”
Heat crawled up Calli’s neck, bloomed on her cheeks. She tugged on Marrec’s arm. 
“Let’s go now.”
They walked together, passing the other three to the stairs.
“Calli?” Alexa said.
Calli turned her head to look at the woman. “Ayes?”
“You walk well with Marrec. In step. You look good together.”
“I always was good in a three-legged race.”
“What’s a three-legged race?” asked Marrec and Bastien together.
Watching her step down the long flight of stairs, Calli said, “It’s a race 
people play during, um, picnics, holidays.” She waved her free hand.
Marrec frowned a little, as if accessing her memories. That was a little creepy, 
so Calli said, “Let’s go.”
17 
A fter a quick bath in the public pools that left Calli red from more than the 
heated water, she and Marrec ate a late breakfast with a few of the younger 
Marshalls in the fancy dining room. Everyone at the table spoke more than he, 
and Calli sensed he was wary of those who had had great power over him just the 
day before. He wasn’t a talkative man, so she figured she’d be relying on the 
memories that continued to roll from him to try and understand him. But that was 
a blessing. It wasn’t often that a woman had so much information about her 
husband. At least, that’s what Calli was telling herself.
As she and Marrec walked across the courtyard to the Map Room to choose their 
land, a group of Marshalls and top-ranking Chevaliers surrounded them. With each 
step, tension built and cycled back and forth. She’d try to take an easy breath 
and relax and niggling anxiety from Marrec would destroy her calm. He’d shove 
nervousness aside, boxing it away in a safe place and the strain of the unknown 
would flip from her to him and pop the lid off the box.
Then they were there, standing before the great, animated map of Lladrana.
People pressed around them. Calli thought that everyone’s gaze had gone to the 
northern border just as hers had done. The room itself wasn’t large, so others 
must be lining the cloisters and lingering in the courtyard.
Marian and Jaquar and Bastien and Alexa were there, of course, some of the older 
Marshalls and the two feycoocus in the shape of red birds with long tails 
perched on the top frame of the map. It comforted Calli that Alexa had done this 
same thing.
And Calli had Marrec. His Song resounded in her head, strong with excitement. 
His arm against her was tense as he focused on the map. Her fingers fisted as 
she realized he wanted the land as much or more than she did.
Swordmarshall Thealia raised her hands and the babble died. “These are the 
current vacant estates.” She gestured.
The map, which had been topographical, showing the greens of rich farmland and 
brown of mountains, turned to a dark gray background with splotches of yellow.
To Calli’s way of thinking, there was far too much free land, obviously because 
the owners had fallen in battle and left no heirs. Chevaliers, like her; 
Marshalls, like Alexa; nobles, like Lady Hallard and Faucon, who winked at her.
Marrec’s excitement reached a shrill pitch, subsided. She saw a real smile on 
his lips. He stepped forward, concentrating on one dot in particular, a place 
that had been in the richest green, not too far from the southern border.
He gestured. “Here—”
Ttho. Calli grabbed his arm. Ttho.
He looked down at her, frustration leaped from him to her, through their 
connecting Songs, through their blood.
Ttho? It’s rich. The richest we could get. Big. Close to the Shud border and 
good trade. Far from the north. We’d never be in danger. Never. 
I’m a mountain girl. I want mountains. She waved vaguely to the north.
He stiffened into rigidity. His glance flicked up and to the northwest. Where 
his village had once been. He had few and indistinct images of the massacre, but 
so terrible that Calli had locked them away. When his Song went ragged, she 
shoved them away from him, too.
His expression was impassive, but she knew his inner struggle.
I’m a mountain girl, she repeated, putting her free hand on their linked arms.
A neigh came from the courtyard outside. She didn’t recognize it, only knew 
Thunder’s and her horses’ calls.
Volaran Valley. The equine voice came to Marrec first, then through him to her.
Dark Lance, Marrec said.
Together they stared at the map and Volaran Valley, northeast of the Marshalls’ 
Castle. To the west of the valley the land rose.
“Topographical map, please,” Calli said, a little surprised that she knew the 
words. But languages hadn’t been too hard for her, and she could pluck phrases 
out of Marrec’s head since they were bound so closely.
The map changed back to the blue of the sea, greens and browns, and the white of 
the tallest peaks in the north. Those were too dangerous, Calli knew.
Marrec pointed to where the land he wanted was. It’s perfect, but his 
conviction, his lust for this particular place had slightly faded.
Near Volaran Valley! came, and it was a swell of Song so strong, from every 
volaran in the Castle that it staggered her. Marrec stood rocklike, absorbing 
the shock of her body, the volarans’ minds. His lips thinned.
“May we see the free estates, please?” Calli said, and as the map faded to gray 
and yellow, she kept the image of the mountain ranges in her mind.
She angled her chin. The spur from the north. Near the end of the spur, on the 
eastern slope, closer to Volaran Valley. See? There’s a place. It would be a 
good place for volarans and horses, wouldn’t it?
“Must we choose now? Can’t we look at the land?” Marrec asked.
Thealia frowned. Lady Hallard snorted. “Calli must be trained as soon as 
possible.”
Calli’s turn to tremble.
Marrec stared at her, this woman who had shattered his old life with her choice 
of him. Yet, she hadn’t chosen blindly. The drugs had freed her mind, emotions, 
Power for the Song to guide them together. He had, quite simply, been the best 
fit for her. He shifted from foot to foot. She still stared at the map.
He wanted a rich estate that would always support them, their children…no 
children from his body, but the lost children they’d adopt. They could make a 
large family. A rich estate would ensure their children would never go hungry, 
never be poor. An estate in the south would be best.
Throaty coos impinged on his hearing. He looked at the two feycoocus who perched 
with curled claws around the top frame of the map. They had wanted Faucon for 
her. A snap of jealousy whipped through him before he recalled that Faucon, rich 
noble that he was, garnered much of his wealth from his seaside estates and 
ships.
Marrec was landless, could be more flexible in the matter of property, could 
give her a mountain estate. The gleam of Calli’s hair tempted him, golden, like 
freshly minted coin. He stroked her head. Her eyes, blue as the sky, met 
his—filled with tears.
Merde!
She’d broken his old, grinding life, given him new hope. Through their blood 
flashed images of her lost home…in the mountains.
They could build a good life together. They would have to learn each other’s 
rhythms, make adjustments, when they became a fighting team. He rubbed his chin. 
“We’ll take the land on the east side of the Eperon range, the little circular 
valley.”
Gratitude flooded Calli, her body softened, she folded into him. The volarans 
outside trumpeted.
Well done, said a voice in his head and he looked to the map—where the land had 
already shaded into the purple of an Exotique estate—and upward into the beady 
yet fathomless eyes of Alexa’s feycoocu.
“Thank you,” Calli said it in her own language, then set her head against his 
heart and looked at the map. “Merci.” She sniffled, swallowed. “We must choose 
our colors. That purple has got to go.”
“What about black edged with silver, like Dark Lance?” he said.
She smiled up at him and it was free, and easy, and nearly…loving. “Done.”
Shades of gray would be good, her volaran said.
“Bo-ring,” Calli said in her old tongue.
Thunder grumbled in her mind.
Calli nodded to the map. “Look.”
Their land had already changed to a black shield edged with silver. “A 
silver-gray volaran, flying,” she murmured. The shield took on that symbol. 
Again she looked up at him. “You agree?”
“Ayes.”
Thealia clapped her hands. “It is done. The Gardpont colors and heraldry are 
noted. The estate will be logged in the Lorebook.”
Bastien laughed, put one hand on each of their shoulders. “You do know that 
you’ve chosen colors like a black and white.” He touched his striped hair that 
marked him as one with wild, fractured Power.
Calli frowned, glanced up at Marrec. “Perhaps one of our children will be a 
black and white.”
That could be a real challenge. “I don’t see children in our future, just yet,” 
Marrec said gently. “We’re a fighting team.”
She stiffened. “Ayes.”
“But someday…” he said, and sent his own Song to spiral around her, full of the 
knowledge that it had just changed once more, deepened, as he’d become a 
landowner. If that could happen, what other miracles could occur?
Nodding decisively, she said, “Someday.”
When they exited the Map Room, the courtyard was filled with all the Castle 
volarans again, with Thunder and Dark Lance sticking their heads through the 
window opening of cloister walk. Both volarans radiated smug satisfaction. 
Marrec noted mares next to them and behind them. “I don’t think we’ll have any 
problems with that volaran-breeding program.”
A hint of pink color rose to her face, fascinating him. He touched her cheek, it 
was slightly warmer than usual. “What is this called?” he asked. Of course, his 
people occasionally showed a change of color, but it was only noticeable if you 
were staring at them.
“A blush or flush,” she said in her own language.
“I don’t think I’ll ever tire of seeing it,” he said.
She snorted.
Thealia stopped beside them, looked at the sea of volarans. “Is this going to 
happen every time you’re around, Calli?”
“They all want to fly with her,” Marrec said.
Calli appeared startled, then blinked, looked out at the winged steeds. “You’re 
right.” She nodded. “I can do that.”
The alarm shrilled. Marrec tensed, ready to run, remembered he was literally 
bound to Calli and stopped. Chevaliers close to the volarans at the edge of the 
herd saddled and mounted, began to fly out.
“The junior Marshalls will lead and fight today!” Thealia’s voice filled the 
courtyard.
A whoop echoed from the newest Marshalls, admitted into those ranks since Alexa 
was Summoned. Most of them hadn’t been in the Map Room and took off in the next 
wave.
Calli leaned against him. He drew her into his arms and they watched the mass of 
volarans shift as Chevaliers and Marshalls flew to fight.
“I don’t like this,” she muttered.
That was an understatement. Marrec felt her deep fear and anger roil her blood, 
ripple through her Song until it was strident and uneven.
Thunder and Dark Lance came closer, sticking as much of themselves through the 
cloister opening as they could. Knowing she needed comfort, Marrec drew her 
forward so their volarans could nuzzle them.
I do not fly today, Dark Lance said in a superior tone. Do not carry nets of 
monsters anymore for zhiv and better status. Have good stall next to Thunder’s. 
He whickered.
“True,” Marrec said, stroking Dark Lance’s neck. “But we will be in the thick of 
battle, always, when we fight.” He didn’t say that the Exotiques tended to be 
targeted by the Dark forces…but even though they were the focus of the invading 
monsters’ attention, they were also well prized by the Chevaliers, Marshalls and 
Circlets. Marrec had no doubt that every volaran on a battlefield would die 
protecting Calli—and now himself. For if he died, she would, too. It was a very 
odd sensation to know that others would give their lives in order to save his. 
Something he hadn’t thought of before. It humbled him.
“Marrec, Calli, you should return to the Map Room,” called Thealia, steel in her 
voice.
He and Calli shared a look, their Songs spiked in anxiety. Returning to the 
room, they saw the map had reverted to the aspect of a battle map. The northern 
border showed the fence posts, new and dying, and the force field boundary…and 
the gaps.
Thealia gestured to the north, a mass of horrors trickled across the northern 
border. “It’s a big incursion,” she said. “We’re going to lose some people. 
Perhaps we all should—”
Bastien shoved away from the wall he’d been leaning on. “Let the new Marshalls 
lead and fight. They need to learn the confidence of taking the field and 
winning without you older folks.” Underlying his words was the inescapable fact 
that some of the older Marshalls could die at any time. His dark gaze passed 
over Marrec and lingered on Calli. “Everyone must move from training and 
practice to real battles.”
Now the color in Calli’s face changed again; she went very pale, paler than 
anyone Marrec had seen alive. He didn’t like this color change. He glared at 
Bastien, but that man was still focused on Calli.
“I haven’t even begun to train yet,” she whispered.
Marrec sent her the absolute confidence he gave Dark Lance, bolstering her Song. 
“We are Paired. We will fight together. You will never be alone.”
She lifted her chin and stared back at Bastien. “I’m used to compe—fighting.”
Thealia cleared her throat. “This confrontation wasn’t why I called you back in 
here.” She pointed to the map. “Look at the point where they’re invading. Lately 
they’ve been coming over the northwest border. Not today.”
They were invading due north of Marrec and Calli’s new estate.
Exactly.
 
Thealia, Alexa and the other Marshalls went to the dining hall, ready to discuss 
the morning’s events. Calli sure wasn’t interested in eating again. She didn’t 
think that her stomach would keep much down if she thought about people and 
volarans fighting monsters. The few Chevaliers who weren’t flying dispersed to 
Horseshoe Hall or the Nom de Nom for lunch.
So she talked to Marrec about her horses. They went to the small round pen on 
the Landing Field set near the corner of the stables and the western wall of the 
Castle. She greeted the horses, but they didn’t come to her. So she leaned on 
the rail, Marrec beside her, shut her eyes and sensed their moods. They were a 
little wary of her, she smelled different than yesterday, with Marrec’s blood 
trickling through her veins, Marrec’s scent on her.
Noticing their horsey scent herself, she smiled, let the warm summer sun sink 
into her, existed in this moment, where she was fine, the horses were fine, the 
now which didn’t include fighting.
But did include a husband. Subtly turning her head, she lifted her lashes a 
crack and found him looking at her, serious as always, though his mouth seemed 
relaxed. Then she thought about kissing that mouth, and her skin tingled.
He chuckled, squeezed her fingers.
She smiled and returned her attention to the horses. They’d stopped and were 
standing in the middle of the pen, ears pricked forward, curious. They’d been 
curious all night. They’d been able to see the volarans coming and going. Many 
of the volarans had come by and stuck their heads over the rails to look at the 
horses and the horses had liked that. They didn’t understand that their 
circumstances had changed, of course, but had been content.
Which was probably just about as much as she could expect. She itched to get in 
the ring with them, she hadn’t been able to work a horse since before her fall 
in December. But they weren’t ready, and she was attached to Marrec. And from 
what she understood, she’d be busy the next couple of weeks from dawn to dusk 
learning her new craft of fighting.
Marrec kissed her cheek. She jerked.
“You tightened up. You will learn to fight well and easily. We’ll be a Pair 
team, probably with you as the Shield—protecting me and Dark Lance—and I as the 
Sword. Don’t worry.”
“I’m going into battle against those monsters and I shouldn’t worry?”
He shrugged, one corner of his mouth quirked. “Don’t worry about the training, 
and don’t ever worry about a battle until you’re flying to it.”
“Good advice.”
He dipped his head, then angled his body and gestured to the Landing Field. They 
were surrounded by volarans again. “I don’t know all of these, but I’d be glad 
to introduce you to those I do, and speak to those I don’t with you.”
She considered him. “You have a telepathic link with Dark Lance.”
“Ayes.”
“But that is rare?”
His face went blank. “About ten of us in the Chevalier and Marshall ranks who 
usually work from the Castle can communicate with our volarans. Another five can 
receive impressions.”
“So that’s about ten percent?”
He inclined his head.
She frowned. “We’ll have to see what we can do to bring that number up.”
He laughed. “Good, take charge.”
Her neck heated. She shrugged. “There must be a way to teach others.”
“You don’t think it’s a natural gift?” he asked, moving to the end of a row of 
volarans where Thunder stood, Dark Lance next to him. Calli understood that the 
winged horses had ordered themselves by status in the Castle herd.
“A natural gift,” she repeated, considering. “Probably. You hear better than 
someone who only gains impressions, but still…” She wasn’t at all sure about 
this magic stuff. “Most of the Chevaliers and all of the Marshalls have those 
streaks denoting Power.” Silver for the young, golden for the old. She reached 
up and touched his right temple. “Everyone hears Songs.” Which was damn new to 
her.
“And you see auras…and through my bloodbond with you, I have learned to see 
them, too. Perhaps you’re right.”
“In any event, we can teach the people to be more sensitive to hors—volarans. To 
speak equine with body language…and…and…by projecting feelings and wishes.”
Marrec nodded. “That could work.” He rubbed Thunder. Salutations, Thunder.
Salutations, Marrec. Salutations, Calli. It was feelings and images. Marrec was 
a triangle-shaped stick figure of a man, his broad shoulders emphasized because 
the volarans—all the volarans—saw him as someone excellent at bearing burdens 
and responsibilities. She was a little surprised and offended to find her own 
image as that of a dandelion gone to seed.
But you sparkle, the dandelion fluff is made up of magical Power, Marrec said, 
and that, too, was images and feeling and Song with a bit of language. And you 
change colors.
She smiled at him, stroked Thunder’s forehead, and said, “We’ll see how they 
feel about me after I start lessons between volaran and flyer. Humans aren’t the 
only ones who need to learn partnership and respect.”
They moved down the rows, from Dark Lance to Alexa’s mount, then Bastien’s, then 
Thealia’s. Each volaran greeted them, flicking ears at Marrec, dipping a head to 
Calli and letting them both know how the flying horse wanted to be stroked—a 
finger trace around itching wing feathers here, a hard rub along the neck—and as 
Calli touched them, she learned.
18 
S he received impressions of battle, how the volaran stretched its wings, to fly 
high and away from a dreeth, how it plummeted to kill a slayer. How well its 
human partner insulated its mind from panic, urged it onward to fight, turned 
its fear to determination to kill the invaders, protect the herds. After she 
reached the end of the first row, her mind was reeling and she leaned heavily on 
Marrec.
“Those who have been introduced to Calli, please leave Landing Field.” He 
projected his voice and Calli heard a bunch of her new feathered friends 
reluctantly clopping away, sending mental goodbyes as they returned to their 
stables or took off to fly and play with others.
“My God,” she said weakly in English, and the words changed and resonated in her 
mind as “By the Song.” She rubbed her temples.
“There aren’t many more here right now. Do you want to finish or wait until 
later?” Marrec asked.
The press of volaran expectation washed over her. She straightened and shook her 
head, breathed in the warm summer air, glanced at the remaining ten volarans. “I 
can do it.” Their ears flicked and heads lifted in support and pleasure.
She walked slowly with Marrec to the beginning of the next line. He said, “Most 
of the rest are young and haven’t been much in battle.”
Calli blinked and realized that the grouping of the herd had been about the 
status of the person, the age of the volaran, how often it had been in battle 
and how well it communicated with its flyer. Everything about how it fit in the 
herd.
Marrec nodded. “If you hadn’t Paired with me, Dark Lance would have been midway 
down the first row. Neither I nor Dark Lance had much status before you, and 
he’s not considered beautiful by the volarans.” Marrec smiled ironically. “But 
we’ve been in plenty of battles and work well together.”
“Huh,” Calli said. “But Alexa’s volaran was right after Dark Lance and she 
doesn’t even ride it.”
“Bright Cloud is a very impressive stallion to the rest of the herd. He was wild 
until a few months ago. Bastien has trained him since and ridden him often, and 
he sometimes flies Alexa and Bastien into battle. He has a good relationship 
with Bastien and would communicate better with Alexa except she’s afraid of 
falling off him again.”
“Oh.” Calli grimaced. “I’ll definitely work with her.”
The corners of his mouth turned up slightly. “She has a hard head, Bastien has 
trouble making her listen.”
Calli narrowed her eyes, glanced at the keep where Alexa was. “She’ll learn from 
me.”
Now Marrec’s smile widened. “I have no doubt of that.”
They spent the rest of the day becoming familiar with the remaining volarans and 
training her horses, in an odd way. Calli spoke to the Castle stable hands, 
figured out which two were the most flexible and began to teach, with words and 
telepathy and Power.
Finally, as the evening turned into night, they bathed again in preparation for 
the next ritual. By this time, they were easy with each other. Calli didn’t 
think she’d ever be shy around him again. She donned her old jeans and another 
sleeveless shirt that buttoned at the shoulder and along the side. Marrec had 
such a shirt, too, and new black leather trousers and tunic emblazoned with 
their heraldry. Just the sight of him made her insides mushy.
Compared to the Choosing and Bonding ritual, the Unbinding ceremony was almost 
private…the inner circle of the older Marshalls, Alexa and Bastien, the 
representatives of the other segments of society: Lady Hallard of the 
Chevaliers, Sevair Masif for the Cities and Towns, Marian and Jaquar for the 
Circlets and Luthan Vauxveau for the Singer.
The ritual took place in a pentacle in the Great Temple, the huge round area 
where Calli was originally Summoned. The place Sang of a thousand Songs, imbued 
in the walls and ceiling and floor, quivering just under or over hearing, 
vibrating against her skin.
Calli and Marrec stood in a star traced on the floor, surrounded by a linked 
circle of the witnesses. It sure felt like a wedding to her. She smiled, looked 
up and met his eyes.
They were fierce and she heard his mental chant of Mine. My woman. Mine to keep. 
Mine to…love.
As soon as the bindings were dissolved, the images, the incredibly intricate 
connection stopped. They both took a step apart. Dizziness had Calli’s world 
tipping. She tottered. Marrec grasped her shoulders. He took her hand, and their 
Song escalated between them.
The Song of the Chevalier Exotique Pair. She blinked. Her left arm felt 
weightless, free.
All of her felt incredibly free. She was her own self again…with additions, 
maybe, but her own self in her own head, no one watching. A sigh whooshed from 
her.
Eyes narrowed, Marrec said. “I thought we’d fly our volarans together to our 
land. Use distance magic to get there and back, but I don’t think—”
“Dark Lance can carry us both. We can help him with the distance magic.” She 
touched Marrec’s cheek. “I don’t know of anything that would please me more.”
His gaze slid down her and she sensed he was thinking about sex, but he nodded. 
“Yes.” Dark Lance, we will fly to our new home. Prepare.
Calli chuckled, shook her head, then instead of Equine, she sent pure feeling to 
the volaran. Love. Anticipation of the ride to their land. Assurance that all 
three of them would work as a unit.
I want to go, too! Thunder sent a visual of himself accompanying them, flying 
without a rider.
“Ahem.” Alexa cleared her throat.
“Yes?” Marrec asked.
“I understand that you’ll be flying to your new estate.” Alexa gestured to a 
young woman, her assistant. “Perhaps Marwey would like to ride Thunder and 
survey the situation. With her help, you might be able to hire household staff, 
maybe even some folks tonight. I know there’s a village on your land.”
Calli hadn’t known. There must be papers or a Lorebook or something. Another 
thing for her to read.
Marrec arched a brow at Marwey. “What’s the price?”
Well, that was blunt enough. Calli looked around to see if anyone was dismayed 
at this conversation taking place in the house of G—of the Song. The witnesses 
observed with interest and Thealia was walking toward a table where a wooden 
chest lay.
Marwey said, “I missed the last Chevalier training class, but Calli will be 
starting training by herself with the rest of you tomorrow. I’d like to train 
with you. My Pairling, Pascal, has already won his Chevalier reins.” She lifted 
her chin. “We want to be Marshalls someday, but I must be a Chevalier first.”
“You agree?” Marrec asked Alexa.
She sighed. “Yes. I’d rather keep Marwey safe here at the Castle, but she and 
Pascal are adamant in their wishes to become Marshalls. Marwey has ‘called’ a 
volaran from the wild herd who has agreed to partner with her.”
Calli eyed the young woman, surely in her late teens. “How long have you flown 
with your volaran?”
A tinge of red appeared on Marwey’s cheeks. “Not long, a couple of weeks before 
all the volarans left. Once since they came back.”
Nodding, Calli said, “Good. Perhaps you’d let me see how you work with your 
volaran and if I might be able to improve your partnership.”
Marwey grinned. “Ayes! But I can speak to the volarans. I have strong mind-merge 
Power.”
“Even better,” Calli said.
Thealia walked up to them, accompanied by a large man carrying a heavy chest. 
She gestured to the box. “The taxes from your estate for the last thirteen years 
since the previous owner died. Also, your bonus for being Summoned.”
Nice.
“Steadier?” Marrec asked.
Calli nodded. He slid his hands down her arms, squeezed her hands, then dropped 
his own, eyeing the chest with a glinting gaze. “I’ll take that, pull out enough 
to pay…our people…up front for a couple of months—”
“Some for getting the house ready, too,” Marwey said. “It’s been deserted.”
Marrec nodded. “Then I’ll put it in Horseshoe Hall’s vault.”
“You don’t need to do that,” Marwey said. “I looked around your rooms—I have 
experience serving an Exotique—and saw a lock-cache.”
“Good,” Marrec said. He brushed a kiss on Calli’s mouth. “Let’s get going, night 
will fall soon enough.” He strode to the door and Calli watched him. His manner 
had changed since she’d seen him enter the hall where she’d stood behind the 
Choosing table. Then his lope had been easy, but diffident. Now he was a man in 
charge. He’d changed, too.
Thealia handed Calli the rolled long strips of linen that had been their bonds. 
“You might want to keep these in a safe place, too. They sing with Power.”
Calli nodded and tucked them into a pouch she carried. She’d like a little 
money, too. Still, there should be more courtesy. She scanned the faces of the 
remaining people and bowed. “Thank you for coming.”
There was a round of returned bows, curtseys, nods. “May the Song fly with you 
always,” someone said.
“And you,” she replied, then spun and hurried out the door. Marrec and Marwey 
were already nearly beyond the keep. “Marrec!”
He stopped.
Calli ran to them, delighted she could do so, that she felt totally healed. When 
she reached them she wasn’t even breathing hard. “When you divvy up that zhiv, 
keep some out for yourself and me, will you?” She handed him her pouch. “And put 
what’s in here in the lock-cache, too.”
His eyebrows went up as he weighed the little bag in his hand, felt the Power of 
the bonds with their blood upon them. “Ayes.” Again he kissed her, this time her 
cheek, then started off once more at a rapid pace. Smiling, she turned to the 
door of the keep and wound through it to the door to the maze, then through the 
hedges and to Landing Field, satisfaction filling her. She knew enough to walk 
around on her own!
Sweet.
Thunder and Dark Lance awaited her, saddled and bridled. She frowned, wondered 
how soon the new tack would be delivered. The sooner, the better. Too bad she 
didn’t know how to call down to the shop. Send a messenger? Use a crystal ball? 
Huh. More stuff she needed to learn.
But she grinned as she reached the volarans. She couldn’t wait to learn.
 
They came out of the Distance Magic bubble with a little pop. Calli glanced over 
to see Marwey on Thunder pacing them. She and the girl exchanged grins.
Marwey said something, her words vanished with the wind. She frowned, tapped her 
mouth, then said something again. This time the words came clear.
“I spent time reading up on your estate. It is well able to provide for a large 
family.” She sighed as if that was one of her long-term goals, too. “Your land 
is surrounded by other well-tended and productive estates. With the zhiv you 
have, your people will be able to buy whatever you need from your neighbors.”
“Good,” Marrec shouted.
Calli nodded. Marrec, you don’t know how to do that thing she did?
No. He hesitated. I have become stronger in my Power since you arrived. Stronger 
still since we bonded. There are many spells we will have to learn together.
It will be fun. 
I hope so. 
As they circled down, a bell tower began to ring. “The announcement of our 
arrival,” Marrec said in her ear. To Calli’s complete surprise, a brand-new 
banner waved from the pole on the tower.
“The Marshalls gifted it to us, I think,” Marrec said. “Sent it here by special 
messenger this morning to announce that the estate had been reassigned—and to 
the Chevalier Exotique. I’d imagine anyone within earshot of the bells who can 
get here fast will meet us.”
Calli cleared her throat. “Our ranch had about four hands. Not many people. I 
watched my dad, of course—”
“His style won’t be ours.”
“No. And there were other ranchers, folks I admired, that I learned some from. I 
hope.”
“We’ll do it together.” His statement was almost a question.
They’d have to learn how to work in harness, for sure. “Yes.”
As soon as they landed and turned toward the house, Calli’s breath caught. It 
had looked a lot smaller from the air, but it was a full three-story mansion 
made of gray stone, with columns. Behind it, peaks rose in rugged grandeur.
“Ours?” she croaked.
Marrec wrapped an arm around her waist. “Ours,” he said reverently.
She glanced up at him, saw moistness in his eyes.
“The house is everything I’ve ever dreamed of,” he murmured. Glancing down, he 
squeezed her and his smile was full. “We’ll make a fine family here.”
She turned a little to the northwest and range after range of mountains rose in 
ever-higher rocky waves until they took up half the sky. Again she turned, due 
north, and more mountains defined the horizon, the spur thickened. To the south 
were peaks, too. She’d wanted mountains. She’d gotten them.
“It’s so beautiful.” Her throat closed. This was her land. Not the Rocking Bar 
T, not ever again, but this place. She didn’t have the ties to it that she’d had 
to her childhood home, but the tingling beneath her feet, as if she was ready to 
really plant roots, told her that it could take the place of the land she loved.
“Beautiful,” Marrec said. He was looking to the east and their own lush valley, 
the distant roofs of village houses.
The deep green of rich fields held his gaze.
“Come along!” Marwey called from the wide porch of the house.
Marrec frowned, slid his hand down to grasp Calli’s fingers and strode toward 
the house. At first Calli stretched her legs to keep up with him, then she 
discreetly tugged his hand and he slowed.
When they reached the steps leading to the porch, Calli saw about twenty people 
gathered there. A few were dressed in rich robes that proclaimed them the local 
VIPs, most wore simple work clothes.
They all stared at her, focused on her blond hair or blue eyes or pale 
complexion. Marrec dropped her hand to wrap his arm around her shoulders.
“Excuse!” a middle-aged woman gasped. Trembling, she bolted from the porch and 
disappeared. She was followed by an older man who nodded to Marrec but didn’t 
keep his distaste hidden.
Marrec frowned.
“For those of you who do not know about Exotiques, an instinctive revulsion upon 
first meeting can be possible to the…less open-minded.” Marwey lifted her nose. 
“If anyone else must leave, especially those who wished to work in the Hall, 
please go now.”
A few more people slid away.
After that, the introductions got confusing. Since Marrec was paying attention 
to the nobles and richer village folk, Calli concentrated on the people who’d 
come to take care of her new home. The Hall. The what Hall. Or the Hall of What? 
She cleared her throat and everyone fell silent. “What is the name of this 
place?”
Thunder and Dark Lance trumpeted and sent strong mind images. Volaran Hall!
“Volaran Hall,” Marrec repeated.
“What was it before?” asked Calli. Gazes sharpened at her accent. Calli 
disregarded that. She hadn’t been in Lladrana very long and her accent was 
better than Alexa’s.
“Stinton Hall,” someone said. “Their line died out.”
“Our line will not die,” Marrec said.
People exchanged glances.
“Calli and I will be bonding with children,” Marrec said. “We intend to have a 
large family.”
There was some muttering…instinctive blessings, Calli thought, wishing them long 
lives. The evening seemed chill.
Marwey said, “And the Chevalier Exotique Pair’s children will have the other 
Exotiques as godparents.” She sniffed and waved to a tall, thin, older man who 
Calli had been told was the Hall’s hereditary keeper. “I think you have the 
keys, please open the door.”
The large wooden door opened silently into darkness.
Marrec swung Calli up into his arms and stepped over the threshold. Lights went 
on. Calli stared up at him, openmouthed. His eyes glinted down at her. “Alyeka 
told me this was a wedding-ritual custom?”
Calli could only nod.
He turned a full circle, still holding her, nodded himself. “Good place.” His 
approval of the house slipped through him, through them both. The last faint 
image of a sprawling ranch house disappeared from her brain.
Carefully, he set her on her feet, then looked at the keeper. “We wish a tour.”
The man bowed low, eyes down. Then led them up an imposing staircase that 
dominated the middle of the hall. His voice was whispery and respectful. With 
each step Calli experienced an echoing tone in her mind, as Marrec felt the 
stone of this house and the land beneath and was bonding to it.
By the time they’d been shown the most important rooms, the feeling that this 
place was home, was theirs forever, had insinuated itself into her very bones. 
Magic, again. She’d fight for this land that would house and breed volarans…and 
children.
But it overwhelmed her before they even finished looking at the bedrooms on the 
second floor.
“Calli, Lady Gardpont, is tired,” Marrec said, and handed over a clinking pouch 
and a small, smoky crystal ball. “We will return to the Marshalls’ Castle. Clean 
and furnish this place, and keep me informed.”
Calli wanted to see the stables, whatever setup there was for horses and 
volarans, but Marrec’s words seemed to have sunk her into a swamp of exhaustion. 
Even his strong hand under her elbow and sturdy endurance couldn’t keep her from 
swaying.
Once again he picked her up, and she was barely conscious for the ride home and 
the walk up to their new apartments in Horseshoe Hall.
 
As they walked to their new suite in Horseshoe Hall, Marrec felt it before he 
saw it, a vile, crackling, invisible spiderweb of destructive force. Everything 
inside him clenched. The spell spread over their door and attached to a trigger. 
Narrowing his eyes, he saw a small glove—almost a child-size glove—near the 
brown-stained wooden footboard at the threshold of the door. It looked like a 
worn glove, the fingers curved upward, reaching to grab them.
Danger.
An evil trap.
19 
H is pulse picked up pace. His breathing hitched. Sweat slithered along his back 
and arms.
Calli leaned heavily against him, weary and still thrumming with the 
exhilaration of their ride, the pleasure of their discovery of her house. No, 
their house, their land, their people.
His woman. Whom he had to protect. He didn’t want her to see the trap, sense the 
danger.
Marrec kept his voice soft and murmured words of affection as he angled Calli’s 
body away from the threat of the door trap, placing himself between it and her.
Suppressing a shudder, he sent a mental probe sliding around the door near the 
knob. It wasn’t one of those evil horrors, a sangvile. The taut threads of Power 
held notes of a vicious human. An enemy in their midst. Wearing a pleasant mask, 
no doubt.
To keep her safe, and angle her farther away from the door, he drew Calli into 
his arms. Then he set his hands against her back and stroked her torso, enjoying 
the suppleness of her muscles. A few minutes ago he’d been concentrating on sex. 
Now he was focused on keeping her safe. He rubbed his chin against the side of 
her head. The silkiness of her hair, that wonderful, beautiful hair, caressed 
his cheek like nothing he’d ever felt before. “We’ll go straight to bed.”
She chuckled, an image rose in her mind—something of Exotique Terre—of herself 
in a long, fancy white gown and him in silly black-and-white clothes, then they 
were rolling naked in their bed. “Honeymooners,” she said, and though he didn’t 
know the word, he knew the concept. Newly bonded people who couldn’t get enough 
of sex with each other. His pulse leaped, but arousal stayed a second priority 
behind the fierce desire to protect her.
Fear snaked down his spine, he made his voice steady. “We’ll go to sleep. It’s 
been a long day for you.”
“A very long day,” she sighed out. Yawned. Leaned heavier against him.
His mind went over the evil threads attached to the door. A few days ago he 
wouldn’t have had the vision to notice the spell, wouldn’t have had the Power—or 
the innate knowledge—to disarm it. Definitely wouldn’t have had the ability to 
split his focus on cuddling a woman and working on tracing the lines to a knot 
around the latch, picking at one and pulling, slowly, slowly unraveling it.
“I’m glad it was you,” Calli said. She glanced up at him, ran fingers along his 
tight jaw. “Always so serious. You don’t need to be, with me.” She kissed his 
jaw.
He fumbled with the web, unraveling string after strained string. Worked 
silently, fast, sweat coating his body.
Finally he reached the last thread, taut and straining, ready to snap and 
unleash a spell that would lash them with energy, straight to their minds—to the 
seat of their Power? Calli’s Power? Overwhelming her? Burning her Power out? He 
thought that was the intention.
He let his hands wander down her, shielded her with his body. Sweat rolled down 
him; he followed strings, unwove. Paused. One. Last. Tiny. Tug.
The thick atmosphere around the door dissipated with a little “Pop!”
A lash of pain whipped him. His mind went gray. He struggled to stand, to force 
the edges of fog shrouding his vision back.
Calli tilted her head, frowning. “What was that?”
“What was what?” His tongue was thick. Second by second he fought to stay 
conscious.
She looked around, blinking. He hoped she couldn’t see the glove. His back was 
to it. Should he have tried to destroy the glove, the holder of the Power? He’d 
have died. They’d have died, because Calli was bonded to him.
He must get Calli inside and in bed, asleep. Then he’d figure out what to do 
next. His fingers went to the doorknob, slid off. Too sweaty.
A deep, erotic chuckle came from Calli. “Hot and impatient, cowboy?”
That note in her voice plucked a chord directly to his groin. Concentrate! He 
didn’t want to. Relief rushed through his veins, sweeping the fog away. Now he 
wanted to throw her on the bed and pound into her, explore this woman he’d just 
saved with his hands and body and keep her under him and safe.
This time he managed the door, shoved it open with his shoulder, scooped her up 
and kicked the thick slab of oak shut. He probed the room, the suite. It was 
free of any evil. More than that, their new home at the Castle felt like 
sanctuary.
Calli licked at his neck.
With quick steps he crossed into the bedroom. Calli’s hands were busy, stroking 
his chest. He laid her on the bed and her hands went to the front of his 
breeches. He jerked. Maybe sex was a good notion. He’d tire her out.
“What’s this?” she asked, prodding. Her fingers were a couple of inches from 
where he wanted them.
“What’s what?” he said thickly.
She reached into his pocket and held up his worry stone.
“Mine!” She barely glanced at it before her fingers curved over it in 
possession. She sat up. “It feels good. Like you.”
“You gonna take everything I have, woman? My knife and my stone?”
“You still have Dark Lance.” Her smile was sultry. “Yeah, I’m gonna take 
everything you have.” She wiggled her hips.
“You’re welcome to everything I have,” he muttered.
Now she looked at the stone, sniffed it, put it in her mouth.
Song in All! If he’d used the stone as his token on the Choosing table and she’d 
done that, she’d have made him climax in public! His thoughts ricocheted, then 
snagged on a dim recollection. Another object imbued with an evil spell.
Definitely an enemy in their midst.
That cooled his ardor enough that he went to Calli, removed her shoes, stroked 
her face and said, “Give me the stone.”
She opened her mouth and tongued it into his palm. Now it radiated of her, 
smelled of her, probably tasted of her—the warm, wet places of Calli. He 
shuddered, made to put the stone back in his pocket and she caught his hand.
“Mine,” she said, then nodded to the bedside table.
He put the worry stone on the table, lifted Calli’s feet to the bed, lifted and 
moved her so her head sank into a pillow of the finest down. She smiled at him, 
lips and eyes welcoming.
Keeping his gaze locked on hers, he leaned down and swept some strands of hair 
from her face, feathered his fingers back over her forehead, set his index 
finger between her eyes and sent Sleep! The word had Power behind it, the calm 
insistence he used to settle an anxious volaran.
Her eyes closed and she dropped into sleep.
He let out a long breath. Not thinking about what he did, he stripped her. Sex 
must come later. Would come later. Good thing he wasn’t a man who was used to 
getting a woman whenever he wanted. He lifted the covers, then hesitated. The 
summer night was warm, the room cozy.
When he returned he wanted her there, on the bed, naked and waiting for him.
With a shrug at his needy thoughts, his deep masculine yearning, he turned away. 
His eye caught the worry stone on the table. He didn’t reach for it. It wasn’t 
his anymore, but hers.
Lips curving, he figured she must have had something with her that she could 
give to him. He’d insist. This partnership already tilted one way then the 
other, unbalanced. Her with her incredible Power, the zhiv and land and status 
she brought to the pairing. Him with his knowledge of Lladrana, volarans, 
experience in the culture and battlefield. They’d have to work to find a 
reasonable balance.
Though he’d noticed she liked leaving doors open behind her, he shut the bedroom 
door, ran a finger down the long crack around the door. “Keep her safe,” he 
chanted, sending all his will along with licks of Power into that spell.
He went to the outer door, frowning. This suite was more like homey rooms than 
the security of a fortress like the keep’s towers. There weren’t enough shields 
between her and the outside, between whoever laid the trap, whoever walked 
Horseshoe Hall with malice, hiding behind illusion.
Which meant he’d have to learn how to set shields inside the rooms.
He opened the outside door, examined every inch of it, the lintel and threshold 
around it, then turned his attention to the glove.
Squatting, he stared at the glove, noted the faded purple patterns and 
embroidery.
It was Alexa’s glove.
Why?
And how?
 
Marrec studied the glove for several minutes inside their rooms that pulsed with 
silence. Then he sent a mental question. Bastien?
A startled Ayes? came back to him.
Marrec had given a lot of thought as to whom he should trust. Despite the fact 
that he was a Chevalier and would naturally look to Lady Hallard as their 
representative, and as his former leader, his concerns must be understood by the 
greatest in Power. I must speak to you and the Marshalls—only those who are 
Paired.
Oh? When? 
Now. There’s danger to Calli. 
Meet us in the Marshalls’ Council Room. 
That wasn’t a room Marrec had ever entered. Hadn’t ever thought to enter. His 
life had certainly changed. He shrugged, Ayes.
A tapping came at the long glass window-door of the balcony. He glanced out to 
see a pair of peacocks. Opening the door, he stared down at the faint auras 
surrounding them. He could easily distinguish which of the two feycoocus was 
female.
“Salutations,” he said. “But I don’t have time to talk to you.”
We will guard Calli while you discuss the danger with the Marshalls. 
He had a sudden feeling that they knew what was wrong. “Do you know who her 
enemy is?”
The feycoocus exchanged a look. No. We were not here today, and yesterday we 
were watching you and Calli, adding our Power to the ritual.
Marrec wanted to ask why, but from the way they held themselves, he didn’t think 
they’d say.
May we come in? 
More interest rose in him. He stared down at them. “You have to be invited in?”
They clicked their beaks in irritation. Yes.
“You promise no harm to Calli will ever come from you?”
We promise, the male said. I am Tuckerinal. You may call on me for help at any 
time.
Marrec raised his eyebrows. “Is that so?”
So. 
He had to remember that this one was an Exotique feycoocu, come to Lladrana with 
Marian. The notion made his mind spin. He opened the door and stood back. 
“Welcome.”
Thank you. Eyes bright, the female walked in first.
Marrec closed the door after them.
She flew to a chair back and perched. My name is Sinafinal. You may call on me 
at need.
He’d just been given a great gift. He didn’t know how many people could call her 
by name. Though he sensed interaction between Calli and Sinafinal, the memory 
didn’t come clear and mention of the feycoocu’s name in Calli’s thoughts were 
blurred.
Only the Exotiques and their mates know my name. Go now and tell the Marshalls 
of the danger. We will watch, Sinafinal said.
With a deep bow to the magical beings and a lighter step, he left the suite and 
locked it after him.
Though the summer night was warm, sweat had chilled on his body by the time he 
reached the Marshalls’ Council Room. This was the first time he’d ever speak to 
the Marshalls by himself regarding his own concerns. The only person he knew 
halfway well was Bastien.
Yesterday morning he was a penniless Chevalier with only one volaran who had 
disappeared with all the rest of the winged horses and could do so again. Today 
he was the bondmate of an Exotique. At the door of the chamber he squared his 
shoulders, strummed the doorharp.
“Enter,” Swordmarshall Thealia Germaine ordered.
He sucked in a deep breath and opened the door. The room was bright with two 
miniature suns floating near the ceiling. Absently he wondered if he and Calli 
had the Power for such light in their own quarters. They’d need their Power for 
other matters.
“Sit.” Thealia gestured to a chair.
He’d rather stand, but that might make him look more like a servant. He slid 
into one of the chairs with a sword engraved on the back.
Frowning, Alexa shifted on a stack of pillows.
Silence reigned. He kept his face the impassive mask he’d used for years. Then 
he met Thealia’s eyes. “I just disabled a door trap.” He tossed the glove on the 
table.
Alexa jerked. “That’s mine!”
He looked at her coolly. “I know. You wouldn’t harm her.” He glanced around the 
rest of the table…all the old Marshalls and two pairs of new ones. “We have an 
enemy within the Castle.”
Leaning over the table, Alexa reached for the glove. Both Bastien’s and Marrec’s 
hand covered her fingertips.
The three of them linked. The next instant, all the rest of the Marshalls seemed 
to crowd like shadows in the back of Marrec’s mind. Before he could explain 
anything, they all shared his memories of the trap. He exhaled raggedly.
Then everyone withdrew. He sensed them communicating among themselves. Yet a 
small trickle of notes ran between himself and Bastien and Alexa. He liked the 
feel of their hands with his. Like they were family.
“Marwey threw out the glove,” Alexa said. “I thought it had plenty of use left, 
but…” She shrugged.
It probably had another whole year’s use left before the leather split.
Bastien snorted. “It’s very worn, Alexa, many of the embroidery stitches were 
wrecked. The dyeing has dulled. It’s stained and wrinkled. Marwey was right to 
throw it out.”
Marrec lifted his hand from atop Bastien’s, met Alexa’s eyes. She had been poor, 
too. Before she’d been Summoned to Lladrana, she had been even poorer than 
Calli. Bastien, for all the prejudice against him for being a black-and-white, 
for all that his father had despised him, still had owned a small, productive 
estate.
“As you say,” Alexa said. She withdrew her glove from under Bastien’s and 
Marrec’s fingers. Holding one small edge between her thumb and forefinger, she 
lifted it to her nose and sniffed. Her face scrunched as if she tried to sort 
different smells, then she sneezed, shook her head as if to clear it. “Even 
scent has been hidden. Nothing of this glove resonates of me or of any other 
person whom I could identify. She wrinkled her nose. “It reeks of Power.” 
Scowling at the thing, she let it drop. “Marian and Jaquar left for Alf Island 
as soon as the Unbinding ritual was finished.”
Bastien scooped up the glove, pressed it between his hands, engulfing it. A line 
dug deep between his brows, then his shoulders dropped. “My wild magic finds 
nothing either.” He set the glove down.
Marrec cleared his throat. “The feycoocus are guarding Calli. If they’d sensed 
anything important about the one who used this glove, they’d have told me.”
A corner of Bastien’s mouth turned up. He winked at Marrec. “Welcome to the 
club.” Of those who are “honored” by Sinafinal and Tuckerinal, he added 
mentally.
Scowling, Alexa took her old glove, smoothed out the scuffed fingers. Her eyes 
lit with anger. “I don’t like being used.”
“We will all need to watch our discards,” Thealia said, her mouth thinning.
“This wasn’t the first trap,” Marrec said. He felt the heavy weight of their 
focus. “I also wanted to ask if anyone noticed the lock of volaran hair tied 
with a ribbon reeking of evil on the Choosing Table yesterday, and if anyone 
knew what happened to it.”
Startled surprise swirled around the room. The Marshalls’ instinctive team 
connection snapped their defenses into place.
“Ttho,” Thealia said a few seconds later.
“I just mentally called Marwey,” Alexa said. “She oversaw the Choosing Table and 
the tokens.”
“Please explain,” asked Thealia’s husband.
Marrec said, “Near the end of the ceremony, I noticed a lock of brown volaran 
hair on the table nearest to the hallway door. Calli was drawn to it. She was 
too drugged, or perhaps is too new to Lladrana, to sense the harm of it, but I 
did.” He struggled with words. “The Song rising from the ribbon was…not right. 
It felt like a trap.”
“What kind of trap?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t in the best shape to observe.” He lifted and dropped a 
shoulder, frowned. “I’m not sure what would have happened if she’d picked it up, 
but I think it was dangerous.” He met Alexa’s eyes. “So did the feycoocus.”
“The volarans are elated with the Song’s choice of Calli as the Chevalier 
Exotique,” someone said. “She must not be harmed.”
Bastien said, “More than that, they believe her to be Summoned for the volaran 
community. Thunder and Dark Lance have told them glowing stories of her. Her 
actions in saving the horses have made a great impression. Every winged steed in 
the Castle has ‘spoken’ to the horses about Calli. I know every volaran wants 
Calli to fly with them.”
Marrec nodded. “She’ll do that. I don’t think she could refuse any volaran 
request. And she’ll want to get an idea of the different feel and flight 
patterns of the volarans.” He looked around the group that fought together in 
rare teamwork. “She will be able to gather and hold volaran minds in battle, 
communicate with them, work with them as a focal point.”
Thealia grunted. “I’ll make sure she takes lessons in strategy with me. You and 
she must practice with us. Will the Pair of you want to test for Marshall?”
Alexa’s gaze seemed to pierce him, as if she, herself, tested him right now.
“Ttho,” Marrec said. “Calli knows her responsibilities to the Chevaliers, but 
she plans to establish a volaran-partnering center and horse-training center. 
She wants a normal family and children very much. We’ll adopt.” If they lived 
that long.
Even as Alexa’s scrutiny relaxed, Thealia’s sharpened. “She must fight!”
Bastien said, “Every Exotique has a specific task.” He put his hand on Alexa’s. 
“After Calli has performed hers, we can discuss the future.” He cleared his 
throat. “Does anyone have a glimmering of an idea as to what Calli’s task is?”
No one answered, though a buzzing hummed in Marrec’s mind. The Marshalls 
consulting among themselves, no doubt.
“Have you spoken to Calli about this volaran lock and ribbon business?” Alexa 
said.
“Ttho.”
Her eyes narrowed.
Marrec lifted and dropped a shoulder. “She has endured much lately. She is 
nervous about training, about fighting. I wanted to spare her.”
Alexa nibbled her lip. “Just for now.”
The doorharp cascaded with notes.
“Enter,” said Thealia.
Marwey walked in with a scroll and closed the door. She looked nervous.
“Marwey, can you tell us about the tokens on the Choosing Table yesterday?” 
asked Alexa. “Who offered a lock of brown volaran hair tied with a ribbon?”
Unrolling the scroll, Marwey scanned it. “No volaran hair is listed.” In a 
stilted voice, she said, “There were one hundred and twenty-two tokens. The 
smallest was a ruby earring, the largest a helmet.” She waved the scroll. “Every 
person and every token is accounted for, as well as the position of the token on 
the Choosing Tables. I double-checked everything myself after all the objects 
were on the tables and before Calli entered the room.”
Marrec closed his eyes, searching his memory, delving through the haze of drugs 
and sexual arousal that enveloped his recall. “It was on the last table toward 
the east door.” He frowned. “Between a fancy, engraved silver spur and a pair of 
black gloves.”
Moving to the table to flatten out the scroll, Marwey scanned the drawing, 
matched the number assigned to the token to the list at the top of the scroll. 
She looked up, face paler than usual. “That’s where Faucon Creusse’s hat was.”
“But Calli took the hat and other items that immediately called to her to the 
center of the middle table,” Alexa said. “Faucon’s hat was one of the first she 
picked up. So a space must have been left.”
“And someone put the lock of volaran hair in that space,” Thealia said.
Bastien said, “Perhaps the owner of the spur or the gloves noticed who put the 
volaran lock on the table. I know if I’d attended the Choosing and Bonding 
ceremony for Alexa, and placed a special token on the table, I’d have been 
watching it.”
“Throughout the whole ritual?” asked Thealia.
“Perhaps not all the time.” Bastien shrugged. “But everything on those tables 
was special to someone. I’d check my token now and then, to make sure it was 
there.”
“Who’s the owner of the spur and the gloves and the other items around the space 
where Faucon’s hat was?”
“The hat was in the lower corner of the last table.” Marwey flushed a little. 
“I, um, moved it from the center table, I wanted to give others a better chance. 
So it was at the edge of the table. The gloves were sent to us by a young 
sorceress who didn’t attend. The spur belongs to Tristan Sebold.”
“Tristan flew to the alarm today, along with some of the younger Marshalls,” 
Bastien said.
The new Sword and Shield pair glanced at each other. The Sword said, “Sebold and 
his volaran both died today.”
“Both?” Thealia asked sharply.
“His volaran foundered.” The Shield frowned. Shields were more able to note what 
was going on during a battle than Swords. “I don’t know why.” She paled a 
little. “One of those new flying dreeths that breathes flames got them.”
Nothing would be left of the Pair.
The Shield wet her lips. “Now that I think on it, those—” her voice broke 
“—those particular deaths were like none I’ve ever seen in battle.”
Everyone at the table looked as grim as Marrec felt.
Thealia glanced at Marwey. “Please keep this confidential. You may tell your 
Pairling only. He can tell no one. You may go.”
Marwey’s eyes narrowed. She jerked a bow to Thealia, turned on her heel and 
left.
“It’s someone in the Castle with strong Power. A Chevalier or Marshall,” Bastien 
said.
“Not necessarily,” Thealia argued. “Others attended the Choosing and Bonding, we 
even have some guests still staying, not leaving until tomorrow.”
“But it’s most likely we have an enemy inside our walls,” Marrec said.
Bastien took the glove back from Alexa, ran his fingers around the seams, as if 
extending his senses once more to discover the culprit. “I don’t like that the 
person used Alexa’s glove, as if targeting both Exotiques. The way these traps 
were set…more like what a Sorcerer or Sorceress would do…more like how they’d 
think…than a Chevalier or Marshall.”
“We had no one except Jaquar and Marian from the Tower community within our 
walls,” said Thealia.
“They wouldn’t—” Alexa hopped to her feet.
“Harm Calli,” Thealia finished. “Or I should say, had they wished to harm Calli, 
she’d be dead by now.”
“How Powerful would this person have to be to set such spells?” Marrec asked.
“Strong,” Thealia said.
Alexa retrieved her glove. “I’ll courier this to Marian. But I agree. We have a 
secret enemy among us.”
20 
C alli woke late the next morning. Before she opened her eyes, she knew Marrec 
wasn’t in their rooms. She sighed and stretched. The sex had been awesome. Her 
body felt great…completely in tune. In fact, she’d never felt this good before, 
as if mind and body and…soul…Song…Magic?…were completely integrated, all 
harmonically balanced. And she was even thinking more in musical terms. Huh.
The first thing she saw when she sat up was a glowing white crystal ball, with 
streaks of milky pink and blue and brown swirling in it. Next to it was a piece 
of paper. She picked up the note and saw angular writing that leaned to the 
left…Marrec’s left-handed penmanship. She couldn’t read it, of course, and a 
little flutter of panic swept through her. She loved to read, to listen to audio 
books, and didn’t like being somewhere she couldn’t. A big disadvantage. Guess 
she’d better add reading and writing to her list of lessons.
She drew in a big breath, let it out noisily.
Someone cleared his throat. Calli stared around.
“Salutations, Pairling. And…uh…good morning to you—” Marrec’s voice came from 
the crystal ball. Fascinating.
“I have gone down to fetch breakfast for us. I recall that you like croissants 
and scrambled eggs.”
Breakfast in bed, had she chosen a winner or what?
“Please stay in the…uh…our…rooms. If you must go out…uh…Koz is standing guard at 
the door and will accompany you.”
Calli’s eyebrows snapped down. A guard?
“There are things we must discuss. I’ll see you shortly.” There was a pause, 
then the sound of a smooch. “Your bondmate, Marrec.”
She stared at the crystal. He’d sent her a kiss? She could imagine that small 
gesture might have embarrassed him. Yet he’d done it anyway. The sweetie. She 
chuckled, and he’d “signed” the message, as if she wouldn’t forever know the 
timbre of his voice from one word.
The crystal went dark. With a lingering smile, Calli used the bathroom, then 
went to the long, elegantly carved wooden wardrobe and dressed in bra, panties, 
a thin cotton shirt and leggings, a snug tunic and breeches. Her scarred old 
ankle boots detracted from the look. When she was dressed she realized that for 
the first time since she’d come to Lladrana, she was alone. No Marrec, no other 
Exotique, no Chevalier just hanging around her, no volaran eyes watching. It was 
a very odd feeling.
She sat on the bed and let the atmosphere sink into her. There were layers of 
herself and Marrec, and them together—echoes of their Songs already woven into 
this space which was their home here at the Castle.
A wide grin spread over her face and she flopped back on the soft bed as she 
thought of her new land. Her ranch, hers and Marrec’s. It was pretty land, the 
house was great and the outbuildings and fenced areas could be rehabbed into 
exactly what she wanted. Laughter bubbled up inside her and she couldn’t lie 
still anymore. She got up, crossed to the French doors and flung them open to 
the beautiful summer day, then stepped out onto the balcony.
It was sturdy stone and where the curve of the outer wall of their suite met the 
straight Castle wall, an enclosure, like an open horse box, had been included. A 
stall for a volaran. She smiled. Had she landed in clover, or what? Eyeing the 
bare box, she decided that she’d stock it with hay, make it ready for Thunder or 
Dark Lance.
This apartment was at the top of the hall and she wondered if there was a chute 
or something to take the volaran waste away. Would they actually expect her to 
dump it down the outside Castle wall?
She went to the edge of the balcony and leaned over to look.
A ball of energy struck her from the side. She stumbled sideways, jammed against 
harsh square edges of the wall. Another jolt hit her, this time Power that 
lifted her, spun her out over the wall. She grabbed for it, fingertips abraded 
the stone, slid away.
Free-falling.
Shield! someone snapped.
The volarans shoved knowledge into her mind, backed by Marrec and Bastien. Her 
Power whipped into a Shield. That wouldn’t help her when she hit the ground.
Two beaks caught her wrists. She screamed. Jerked.
The sound of flapping wings, more, Songs of the feycoocu, deafened her. The 
Power she’d formed around herself melded with theirs, boosting all.
Her descent slowed into a controlled glide, past the five stories of the Castle, 
the cliff it was built upon, the rising ground of the dirt road circling it.
She bent her knees. The birds let go. As her feet touched the ground, she tucked 
and rolled. Then she just lay there, staring at blue sky and her heart pounding 
so hard she thought it would jump out of her body.
Shouts filled the air, distressed trumpeting of volarans, even frightened 
neighing of her horses, as if her hearing had sharpened preternaturally.
Wow.
A minute later Dark Lance and Thunder had landed near her and were standing 
close, heads up and watching, aggressive. A war hawk settled on each volaran 
back.
She figured she should sit up. Running footsteps and yelling came her way. She 
got the idea that others who were close to her had felt her peril. Marrec, the 
volarans, Alexa and Bastien, a Shield, some of the other Chevaliers, the 
feycoocus. The little magical beings had been able to act the quickest.
Well, yeah, if they were more magic than anything else, that would make sense, 
wouldn’t it?
Nothing made sense. Her mind grappled with what had happened.
What had happened? Lightning from a clear sky?
Alexa was the first person to reach Calli. The little Marshall had her baton out 
and did a pivoting sweep of the area. “Who did it?” she demanded.
“Did what?” asked Calli.
Frowning, but not taking her eyes off the countryside, Alexa said, “Attacked 
you. And from where? We thought you were safe. What were you doing?”
Calli got a bad feeling about this. Her brain hadn’t wanted to let her know 
she’d been attacked. Not in her new home. Not in the Castle. Somehow she’d 
accepted that her life would be in danger when she fought on a battlefield in 
the future, the price for everything else. She thought she was safe in the 
Castle.
Apparently not.
She shoved to her feet, a little shaky like after she’d had a rough tumble from 
a horse. Looking up, Calli saw the jutting of the balcony around the top story 
of Horseshoe Hall.
It looked really far up. She frowned, checking out the Castle wall about a story 
below her apartment and to the north. Didn’t the wall have a walkway?
“Calli! Tell me what happened,” Alexa said, following Calli’s gaze upward.
“It must have come from there.” Calli pointed. She rubbed her side, which felt a 
little singed.
“What possessed you to lean out over a wall, unprotected?” Alexa demanded.
“Why shouldn’t I be able to take a damn walk on my own damn balcony?”
“Maybe because twice someone’s tried to hurt you?”
“What!”
“Shit, he didn’t tell you.” Alexa snapped her baton in its sheath.
“Who? Tell me what?” But Calli’s gut churned. “Who” was running in front of a 
stream of others. Marrec.
He swung her up into his arms.
“Marrec!”
“You need fuel. My wife. My woman.” He held her closely.
Alexa rolled her eyes.
Sinafinal clicked her beak. No harm done.
Tuckerinal preened. We saved Calli. He shifted feet on Dark Lance. We are the 
best. Then he flew up as Marrec put Calli on Dark Lance, mounted behind her. 
Gestured to Alexa and Thunder. “Let’s take this private. The Marshalls’ Dining 
Room.”
Alexa stared at Thunder. “I’m not getting on that volaran. He doesn’t even have 
a saddle!”
“Good thing Bastien is right behind you,” Marrec said.
Bastien grabbed Alexa and tossed her onto Thunder, jumped on behind her. “Let’s 
go.” He said it and sent it mentally to the volarans.
Thunder snorted. You did not ask my permission to ride. I am Calli’s volaran.
You want to stand on propriety or do you want to see if we can find out who 
tried to harm Calli? 
Thunder took off like a shot, angling up toward the wide walk on the Castle wall 
below Calli and Marrec’s apartments. Alexa shrieked and grabbed at his mane.
Landing Field, Marrec ordered Dark Lance. He rose with more dignity.
A few minutes later they had landed and the new squires had appeared to take 
care of Dark Lance. Marrec grabbed Calli’s hand as if he was afraid to let her 
go, then strode toward the Castle keep. He flung open a door and Calli tensed. 
He looked down at her.
“I’ve never been in the Assayer’s Office,” she said. She’d heard the place was 
where Chevaliers and Marshalls brought their dead monsters to be tallied…and 
processed.
“You want to go through the maze?” Marrec’s tone was impatient, but he didn’t 
pull her into the room.
“No. I can do this,” she said, and stepped into the charnel house.
It wasn’t as bad as she’d expected. There was the smell of death, strange odors 
that she thought must come from the dead monsters. One flayed…something…was 
arranged on a long counter, and she jerked her sight from it. The room was 
higher than it was wide or long, and held a lot of mounted trophies, like the 
Nom de Nom. Render paws. Soul-sucker tentacles.
Her gut shivered, but seeing the monsters again almost calmed her. These she was 
preparing to face, to fight. An unknown human enemy with free rein of the Castle 
seemed much more threatening. Today.
“Salutations.” Marrec nodded to the assayer.
He stared at Calli, a small man with a gray goatee and a round paunch. “What’s 
she doing here?”
They didn’t answer and were across the room and into a keep hallway in a couple 
of minutes.
“Did he seem suspicious to you?” asked Calli.
Marrec grunted. “Everyone seems suspicious to me.”
Calli’s blood chilled.
 
Breakfast wasn’t in bed. It wasn’t an easy meal at all. She and Marrec were 
surrounded by some Marshalls, Lady Hallard, Koz and Faucon. Everyone watched her 
like a hawk—including the two hawks—to make sure she was eating, and she managed 
to swallow some eggs. Even the flaky croissant didn’t have much taste to her, 
and she caught herself peeling the layers and eating in little bites.
A grim Thealia Germaine detailed past events for her. Calli got the idea that 
Thealia herself had swept through the Castle, including Horseshoe Hall, the home 
of the Chevaliers, investigating everything, demanding answers, and nothing had 
shaken loose. Lady Hallard sat stiffly, radiating displeasure that the Lord 
Knight Swordmarshall had made this a matter for the Marshalls and not just the 
Chevaliers.
Looking at Calli with darkly piercing eyes, Thealia said, “We will find this 
miscreant and punish him.” She sent a chill glance at Marrec. “Your bondmate 
will guard you, and everyone close to you—your new squires—and the volarans have 
been cautioned to keep an eye on you.” Her lips thinned. “These attacks won’t 
remain secret for long, unfortunately.”
Thealia looked at Lady Hallard. “The Chevaliers insist you remain with them in 
the Hall.”
“I’m the Chevalier Exotique,” Calli said. “Of course I must live in Horseshoe 
Hall. I love our rooms there.” Lady Hallard eased a little.
“I’ve called Jaquar and Marian. They’ll be coming in to look for more magical 
traces,” Alexa said.
Both Thealia and Lady Hallard looked sour.
“Those Circlets were here when Calli was Summoned, for the Choosing and Bonding, 
yet they didn’t notice anything, either,” Hallard said.
Alexa narrowed her eyes. “None of us were looking. No one knew someone in the 
Castle threatened Calli.”
Lady Hallard snorted.
Bastien said, “Morning’s passing.” He gave Calli a charming smile. “Ready for 
your first Chevalier training lesson?”
Calli’s stomach tightened and she wished she hadn’t eaten at all. What if she 
lost her breakfast, training?
Marrec squeezed her hand, spoke to her mentally, You won’t.
Calli envisioned volaran quick liftoffs into the sky, steep banking, 
loop-de-loops. “You’re sure?”
As they stood, Marrec whispered, “I’ll take any nausea you have away through our 
link.” His expression sobered. “You’ve already learned to Shield.”
A shiver traced up her spine. She didn’t want to remember the fall. Now that he 
mentioned it, a headache lurked, buzzing in both temples, no doubt from the 
forceful tweaking of her Power by the volarans. “A Shield,” she said neutrally 
as they went to the private stairway off the room.
“You form a force shield around yourself and Thunder, Dark Lance, me.” He patted 
her shoulder. “I can build one for me and Dark Lance when we go into battle, but 
lately I’ve been sharing a Chevalier who prefers to be a Shield with some of 
Lady Hallard’s other Chevaliers.” They climbed the stairs from the second floor 
to the Castle wall walkway that ran from the keep to Horseshoe Hall.
They were alone, and Marrec stopped and turned to her, stroking her hair, his 
serious gaze meeting hers. “You’re very Powerful. You’ll have modified the 
Shield Song to suit yourself soon, probably by the end of the first teaching 
verse.”
“Thank you,” Calli said. She slipped her arms around his waist and hugged him. 
She wanted to say she loved him, but was too shy, and everything that happened 
that morning had reinforced that she was a stranger in a strange land. The guy 
was her husband, was closer to her than anyone else in the world…but they were 
still finding their rhythm together.
They walked to Horseshoe Hall and down the stairs near the stables. There, her 
squire held out a different tunic for her, this one made of padded leather.
“Thank you,” Marrec said, taking the item. He frowned at all the volarans in the 
Landing Field, grouped according to their herd status, Dark Lance and Thunder 
closest. Thunder shifted. “Go to Thunder,” Marrec told Calli’s squire, a young 
man.
Marrec slipped the tunic over her head, tied the sides. “This will be all you 
need this morning. Your chain mail should be ready by tomorrow.” His hands 
stroked, more the leather than her body beneath.
For the first time she noticed that he, too, wore new flying leathers. She 
touched his shoulder. “Nice expensive clothing.”
He smiled at her. “We landed in sweet hay.” She heard the end of that mental 
thought. After all these years. Dark Lance echoed agreement.
Their feelings echoed her own, and she was comforted. This was the kind of man 
she knew and would treasure, and the volarans were already part of her heart.
But as she strode the couple of paces to Thunder, her pulse began to beat hard 
in anticipation. All the volarans were here, which meant all the Marshalls and 
Chevaliers. Ready to watch her during her first training flight. She’d never 
wanted an audience less.
Thunder was still unsettled from the excitement of her fall. Calli frowned. Now 
that she thought of it, most of the volarans were uneasy, tense and restless. 
Hmm. It would be a good way to see how well the Marshalls and Chevaliers 
partnered the winged horses, which people she might help improve their flying 
skills.
And wasn’t that arrogant?
It is truth, Thunder said as she gave him half a carrot to nibble. You and I fly 
as if we were raised together and you are the best Chevalier I have ever seen.
“Huh,” she said and used Marrec’s cupped hands to mount. She leaned down and 
kissed his cheek. He smiled and went to speak with their squires.
Are you sure you want to be my fighting volaran? she asked Thunder. It means 
danger and death.
He flinched. His whole body rippled under her in an equine shudder. She sensed 
panic and used her Power to sooth his mind. Hold it, like her own, away from 
paralyzing fear.
I am the best for you. It was barely a whisper, as if he doubted. She didn’t 
know how he’d been chosen for her, but she loved him.
I love you, she said, stroking his neck. She didn’t want to see him hurt or 
killed, and kept that notion firmly away from where their minds touched.
I love you, too. I am the best for you. His mind voice came stronger, certain 
now.
All right. We will fight together. 
He shivered again. Together. With Dark Lance and Marrec.
Yes. 
We will probably be the Shield team, he said, sounding comforted. His natural 
Song took on harmonics that fear had suppressed.
So I’ve heard. 
Dark Lance is a big volaran. He can fight. Calli almost smiled, hearing the 
unspoken “instead of me.” But she didn’t want either of them to have illusions. 
She’d had enough illusions in her previous life. There will still be danger, and 
times we must fight and kill.
Thunder shifted. I have never been in a battle with someone on my back, led by 
humans.
Neither have I. We’ll learn together. That will make us a stronger team. She 
held confidence firm in her mind. Marrec’s Song wisped through her and she 
turned to see him murmuring to Dark Lance, settling him. Marrec smiled at her. 
“Let’s fly together. Dark Lance and Thunder did well yesterday,” Marrec said. 
“Follow me in sky play.”
Excellent idea. If these had been horses, she’d have worked with them on the 
ground until their fidgets had gone.
“Sky play.” She grinned back. That sounded fun.
He winked.
Thealia came over, holding inch-long many-pointed starlike crystals. She placed 
one on Thunder’s head, the other on Calli’s right shoulder. “These will record 
your flight.”
Video. Great.
Others had mounted. Alexa and Bastien on Alexa’s stallion, almost as large as 
Dark Lance.
Bastien would be teaching Calli how to be a Shield. She’d never seen a tougher 
guy, obviously Shield didn’t mean wimp. Swordmarshall Thealia and her Shield, 
Lady Hallard and another man and two pairs of Chevaliers who wore her colors. 
People who would have worked closely with Marrec.
This time when they rose into the sky, she was very aware of others around her. 
Marrec sent Dark Lance into a wide curve to the left with no more than the 
tiniest shift of his body and aura to the left. This man could ride! He’d given 
no mental image to Dark Lance, Calli figured that the two were so in accord that 
the volaran read Marrec’s intention in his mind as well as body. Yet Marrec used 
his body to cue the flying horse, as he would a regular horse. As she and 
Thunder followed Marrec and Dark Lance, she settled into her balance; more, she 
easily found that special place where her energies and Thunder’s merged in 
balance.
They flew patterns, dipping and curving. The cool summer breeze lifted her hair. 
Her headache had dissipated, her muscles had relaxed, yet she knew from the 
thoughts around her that the swooping and curving, the quick, rapid lifts, all 
were used on the battlefield. But the pure freedom of it, of not being tied to 
earth, of flying, moving in three dimensions filled her until she felt as if she 
was pure joy. As if she glowed.
Yet she could feel the links between herself and everyone in the air. She was a 
vital part of a team, yet individual. This was what she was born to do.
She caught Marrec’s smile at her reaction and grinned. With a slight finger 
motion, he indicated they’d get down to business. Which was doing figure eights, 
horizontally, vertically, at a slant. When all the volarans were in tune with 
their riders, Marrec began games with first one pair, then two, then added the 
rest. Calli smiled as she realized he used not only his sensing of the Songs, 
but her skill at seeing auras, to judge the moment when all the fliers were 
integrated with their mounts.
The sun rose higher, got hotter, but Calli kept up. When she’d mastered all the 
beginning moves, understood the way she needed to shift her body to cue Thunder 
for three-dimensional flying, she began to watch the others. It was easy to tell 
those who had telepathic communication with their volarans, flying horse and 
human auras were merged. The abundance of colors amazed her. Not only were there 
individual colors, but that of Pairlings, and the colors of fliers and volarans. 
In very well-integrated fighters, such as Swordmarshall Thealia and her Shield, 
all volarans’ and fliers’ auras were the same malachite green. She looked down 
at herself and blinked. She was sky blue, so was Thunder. Glancing at Marrec, 
who was now riding slightly in front of her, she saw he and Dark Lance were the 
same color.
Calli turned her aura-sight to Alexa and Bastien riding his stallion, and bit 
her lip. Bastien and the volaran were blue-green, Alexa was tense—and 
polka-dotted.
Oh, yes, she’d teach Alexa to fly.
Then Thealia and Lady Hallard were zooming straight at Marrec and her. Thealia 
whipped out her baton. Threatening green-black light shot out. Lady Hallard 
came, face fiercely smiling, sword ready.
Marrec moved to meet them, his sword out.
Shield! The order came from Bastien, with a sharp two-note whistle that pierced 
Calli’s shock. The high-pitched sounds reverberated in her mind.
21 
C alli Sang the two-note Shield spell echoing in her head.
An iridescent, egg-shaped soap bubble formed around Marrec and Dark Lance, 
around Thunder and herself.
The fliers attacked, Thealia and Lady Hallard against Marrec.
Black-green baton Power struck Marrec’s bubble, hit him in the chest.
No! Fear fueled Calli’s spell. Shield! Not whistle, gong tones.
The bubble flashed around Marrec—stopped Lady Hallard’s sword, shoved both 
volaran pairs back!
Lady Hallard’s mount tipped sideways, fliers appeared around her, manipulating 
the air to steady the winged horse. Thealia shot upward, her own Shield-bubble 
glowed milky white, strengthened by her Pairling.
You are a Shield! Alexa’s mental shriek of glee battered Calli along with the 
adrenaline reaction to the attack.
A natural one, Bastien agreed.
They rode to her left.
Marrec was still ahead of her, his sword drawn, fighting another rider midair.
Calli’s mouth dropped open.
The Shield of a well-matched pair does not impede the person Shielded, Bastien 
said.
She could see that. Her husband fought with efficient grace, face a shade more 
serious than usual.
Disengage! Thealia ordered, circling down to their level again. Practice over.
The rider fighting Marrec dropped. Marrec sheathed his sword.
Calli trembled. Everything had happened so fast! Had seemed so deadly.
We did it! Thunder trumpeted. He swung up and over, legs tucked, in a 
loop-de-loop.
Calli shook, clamped her legs around his barrel, grabbed her saddle, handled the 
loop. Dizzy-headed, she sent to Thunder, Calm.
His head came up, but his ears rotated, as if paying attention.
Back to the Castle, Marrec sent matter-of-factly, with pride in his undertone. 
He and Dark Lance turned a tight left, and Calli saw many of the Chevaliers 
they’d worked with streaming ahead.
They go to tell all that we were wonderful. That we will learn to fight quickly, 
Thunder said. If he’d been on the ground he’d have pranced.
A few minutes later, they circled down toward an open space in the middle of 
Landing Field, which was flooded, as usual, by volarans. It appeared that all 
the humans of the Castle had turned out, too.
With the beauty of a falling leaf, they landed. Thunder lifted his head and his 
wings in pride…and to cool himself. Calli noticed her underwear was sticking to 
her.
Dark Lance spread his nostrils in greeting. Marrec dismounted, smiling faintly. 
That was like a shout of triumph from her taciturn husband—bondmate. Calli found 
herself grinning. When he stepped forward and put his hands on her waist, she 
let him lift her from Thunder and whirl her around, feeling giddy with triumph 
and love.
He hugged her, then let her go. “My very good Shield Pairling,” he said, 
squinting against the sun and down at her.
“Thanks.”
With one arm around her waist, he turned to the volarans. Their squires had 
already appeared. Marrec nodded at them. “Treat our mounts well.”
The two bowed to him, then to Calli, with another to the volarans. We will be 
nice to them, projected Dark Lance.
Since it was obvious that each squire had a favorite treat for the volarans, 
Calli didn’t doubt that.
“Good going!” Alexa yelled from a few yards away. The volarans parted as she ran 
toward Calli, pulling her helmet off and shaking her silver hair out, beaded 
with sweat at the roots. “Really excellent,” Alexa puffed. Calli shook her head. 
She wasn’t quite used to hearing Americanisms translated into Lladranan.
“You mastered the Shield spell on the first try. Oh, yeah, you’ll be a good 
fighting pair in under a month!”
Calli’s gut tensed, but she kept her smile steady. Then it became real again as 
she said, “And I’ll teach you to be a good flier within that month, too.”
Alexa narrowed her eyes. “Deal!” She flung her arms around Calli and squeezed 
her hard, then turned to Marrec and did the same. His eyes widened in 
astonishment and wariness.
Bastien joined them, looked at Marrec. “Get used to it.”
Thealia Germaine, Lady Knight of the Marshalls, strode up with Lady Hallard, who 
plucked the crystal stars from Thunder and Calli. Lady Hallard said, “We will be 
reviewing this morning’s training in the Noble Dining Room in Horseshoe Hall.”
From Thealia’s narrowed lips, Calli got the idea that she’d lost the argument.
Marrec grunted.
Calli supposed she needed to do this. It wasn’t as if she’d never watched her 
own performances time and again to see what she could have done better in a 
thirteen-second ride. She’d even seen the last time, seen Spark slip, her own 
fall, his fall on her.
She shook off the memory.
Lady Hallard swept a gaze over the Landing Field. “Everyone who flew the figures 
today, please attend.”
Chevaliers glanced at each other.
“Not many of us are accustomed to the Noble Dining Room,” Marrec whispered as he 
took Calli’s elbow. “Faucon and Koz, who watched from the ramparts, are coming. 
They’re both nobles.”
She sent a subtle probe through her bond with Marrec and sensed that though he’d 
once been a little envious of the two, a little anxious that they’d win her 
hand, those emotions were gone.
A greeting by Marwey pulled her from her thoughts. The young woman looked 
pleased with herself. Thinking back, Calli recollected that Marwey had been one 
of the fliers doing patterns. Seeva nodded to Calli, then linked arms with 
Marwey, and the two began discussing the training session in excruciating 
detail.
To Calli’s relief, Lady Hallard kept the review quick. Seeva had progressed 
another level in her training. Calli and Marwey had immediately become Shields 
to their Sword bondmates, Marrec and Pascal. The patterns had been flown well, 
the teamwork between Chevaliers had been good, but she was assigning new 
foursomes and sextiles to ensure everyone linked with everyone else. Never knew 
who you’d find yourself with in a battle. She dismissed the bunch with that 
chilling reminder.
Just as they were about to leave the dining room a voice asked if the rumors 
about Calli being in danger were true. The chamber grew quiet, more, Calli 
sensed the question had echoed throughout Horseshoe Hall and everyone waited 
with held breath.
“Yes,” Marrec said roughly. “Calli’s in danger. Someone’s trying to destroy her 
Power.” The silence deepened. “Steps are being taken to protect her. And when I 
find out who harmed her, I’ll strip ’em and stake them out for the horrors.”
 
Over the next two weeks, Calli’s days became structured and full…just the way 
she liked them. Chevalier training in the morning, then she schooled the horses 
a little in the afternoon, then worked with Alexa and others who aspired to 
flying volarans.
Alexa was a problem. Actually, she was a pistol. She Sang with strong Power, 
love of animals and the command of her own space. This worked with horses, so 
she only communicated with them—spoke Equine—in a very limited fashion. Despite 
her small size, they instinctively accepted and followed her lead.
This combination did not work with volarans, who wanted much more communication 
from her instead of statements of Power and will.
So Calli taught Alexa Equine with both horses and volarans. Asking her to open 
up was the greatest difficulty. Alex was a fighter, used to keeping her mental 
and physical shields up. Only Bastien and Marian had gotten very close to her, 
and the Marshalls and some Chevaliers close enough to link in teamwork. Since 
Calli had now read Alexa’s and Marian’s stories, she knew Alexa had been caught 
in the foster care system. So Alexa’s emotional shields were even higher.
Soon Alexa worked better with volarans than horses—on all ground games. One 
afternoon she flung up her hands at the horses and left the pen. “No wonder they 
think I’m stupid! They do most stuff by body language. One strange twitch on my 
part and it’s over.”
Calli had Bastien bring a very old, very gentle volaran from his stables. Like 
all the Earth women, Alexa was fascinated with volarans. She did have the 
longing to fly, but that had been overlaid with her falls from volarans. Calli 
and Alexa worked on the ground, then no more than five feet in the air, 
mastering listening to volaran Song, the feel of flesh under her, the stroke of 
the wings and flow of air around her. Alexa learned, and that filled Calli with 
the warmth of accomplishment. She did have a gift of training—horses, and 
horseback riding, and volaran partnering.
Calli learned, too. She took classes with Alexa’s fearsome teacher in magic, was 
actually taught with Alexa in reading and writing Lladranan.
Calli’s Power grew and the work she did with magic—training and communicating, 
refined until she had a great toolbox of Powerful Songs. The volarans were easy 
to understand, the Lladranan people a lot harder.
She, herself, was protected from “negative influence” by layers of spells—an 
inner one she renewed every day, and a bondmate shield that Marrec set in place 
every day. She wore a small amulet of herbs and stones, and leathers and chain 
mail that had been bespelled by Marshalls and Chevaliers in a special ritual to 
keep her safe.
Her flying leathers weren’t dreeth, like Alexa’s, because only those who killed 
the dreeth could cover a great portion of their own skin with the monster they’d 
slain.
The balcony now had a shimmering shield around it, slightly distorting the view 
and making Calli feel like a five-year-old. But life was going well. Sex and 
intimacy with Marrec was great, and though neither of them had spoken the L 
word, Calli thought they were definitely going that way. They’d visited their 
home and found it being cleaned and refinished to fit their tastes, and that was 
pretty damn cool.
Neither Marrec nor she were used to servants, and had wanted to be together 
privately, so they’d put off hiring people to attend them personally.
The training she was doing was fulfilling, the flying was close to ecstatic. She 
practiced fighting with a grim determination she got from Marrec: learning to 
fly on a mock battlefield with realistic illusions of monsters. Shielding him 
from renders and soul-suckers in ground battles, protecting him from slayers’ 
spines. She “killed” the monsters herself.
And seven times those two weeks her belly tightened as she watched the Marshalls 
and Chevaliers fly to battle the horrors, and knew that within the month, she, 
too, would be fighting.
Luck. There was a lot of luck in the rodeo. The luck of the draw—like pulling 
the right bucking horse. If a cowboy got one that refused to buck and stood 
stiff legged, he was out of luck. If he missed the calf’s head with the rope, he 
was out of luck and out of prize money.
If your horse slipped rounding a barrel and both landed on you, breaking your 
pelvis, your luck was pretty bad that night.
There was only so much that skill, technique, practice and Power could do. If 
you were slightly off, the horse/volaran was off, not feeling well or not paying 
attention, or too jittery or too calm…
Calli figured battle would be just the same. Only with worse consequences of bad 
luck.
She always did her best, but in battle she’d be exceptional; she wouldn’t lose 
Marrec or Thunder. Not and still live.
So she practiced her fighter training hard. One morning the patterns went 
quickly and easily, Calli rarely fluffed these. She noted that Marwey was nearly 
perfect, too, and Seeva bobbled once. Perhaps she should offer to work oneon-one 
with her….
The foursome of Marshalls sped toward Marrec, who flew slightly ahead of her, 
wavered before her eyes, then became a huge thing.
Dreeth! Thunder screamed, panicked.
With Power just short of force, she coated his mind with cool thought, banishing 
emotion, even though his wings still quivered. She shut her own emotions down, 
too. They had nothing to do with a competition—battle.
Stop thinking, just like she had before a race—use the anticipation, the 
apprehension, the edge of fear. Drawing Power from herself and Thunder and the 
very air stirred by wings, she snapped a Shield around Marrec as he and Dark 
Lance attacked the dreeth in the air.
Fire shot from the creature’s mouth, battered the egg-shaped force field she’d 
thrown around her Pairling and his volaran. She felt the crisping heat, added a 
layer of air…Power shaped like a wind off cold mountain snows. Cold, 
impenetrable.
Thunder held steady, keeping Dark Lance in sight. Calli drew her sword.
More dreeths! shrieked Seeva. White-faced, she and her volaran whirled, sped 
straight to the new threat…and were blackened with flame.
They plummeted. Illusion! Calli screamed at them. No dreeths so close to the 
Castle. They didn’t listen.
Keeping one eye on Marrec, she reached for the dropping volaran’s mind. In one 
of her free hours, she’d flown with him. Your wings are whole and strong. Feel 
the wind lift your feathers. She beat back panic, sent him courage, as well as 
to Dark Lance.
Dark Lance’s ears flicked, but he and Marrec shot to the underbelly of their 
dreeth, ripped it open, intestines spurted.
Above us! cried Thunder, dropping ten feet. Instinctively, Calli swung her 
sword. Too low to get the belly, but she cut off both deadly back feet. Green 
ichor gushed over her. Her own Shield deflected it.
Her dreeth screamed, banked. Marrec slashed both eyes. It fell and died.
Mind spinning, heart beating so it might burst through her chest, Calli glanced 
around. No more dreeths. She thought there had been four. Now she saw only three 
foursomes of Marshalls, and Alexa and Bastien on a stallion.
God.
Return to the Castle, Marrec said. He and Dark Lance joined her and Thunder. 
Calm Thunder, he sent to her.
Calli deliberately relaxed her body, sent a soothing energy flow around Thunder, 
showed him through her eyes and his own that there were no enemies anywhere. She 
breathed deeply, gave him the scents of summer flying, the warmth of the sun not 
shadowed by any monsters.
His muscles loosened under hers. His mind went from flight to acceptance of 
communication. His sides shuddered out a huge breath. We did well.
Yes, said Dark Lance. Though those were not real dreeths, you did well. You have 
a good flier.
Dark Lance, Marrec chided. His volaran put on a burst of speed, leaving them 
behind, ignoring the rebuke. Calli’s lips curved. She glanced around for Seeva 
and her volaran and saw them on the ground, some distance from the Castle. Then 
the walls were under Thunder.
They landed. Thunder’s hooves clipped the ground and he stumbled, Calli fell 
forward. They both righted themselves. Tucking his wings close to his barrel, 
Thunder galloped once around the Landing Field. He slowed and stopped beside 
Marrec and Dark Lance.
Calli’s smile turned ironic. “We’re still a little shaky.”
Marrec reached out and slid a hand down her back. “Well done.”
He dismounted and pulled her from Thunder, held her close. Well done, Shield and 
Chevalier.
I have won my reins? Calli asked.
Yes. Today’s training must have been a final test. 
“Oh.” His body was all hard strength. She let herself lean against him, enjoy 
the warmth of him and the sun, the scent of volaran and leathers and man.
All the volarans of the Castle Sang, Chevalier Shield Calli, our Exotique. Calli 
raised her head to see they’d entered the Landing Field, as usual. Lady Hallard 
stood, hands on hips, shaking her head. “Guess we’ll have to get used to this.”
With one arm around her waist, Marrec turned to the volarans. “Shall we groom 
these two, then celebrate at the Nom de Nom?”
“Sounds good to me.”
Alexa ran to them. “You did it, you helped kill two little dreeths!”
“Little dreeths!” They’d looked plenty big to her.
“The big ones don’t shoot fire.” She grinned, gestured to Marwey and Pascal. 
“Marwey won her reins, too.” Alexa quivered with excitement. “And Bastien and I 
got to be one of the dreeth illusions and I worked with his volaran for two 
attacks. I’m learning to fly, too!”
“You certainly are,” Calli said.
Bastien dipped his head at Calli. “Thank you. I have been unable to teach her. 
The volarans get charmed or fascinated or nervous that they’ll lose her and 
don’t partner with her well.”
Alexa lifted her nose. “It’s speaking in English. I understand nuances in 
English.”
“Of course it is,” Bastien said. He bent over and whispered something to Marrec 
that Calli heard only as a ripple of notes in her husband’s personal Song. Color 
bloomed under the golden tone of his cheeks.
Swordmarshall Thealia strode up, smiling. “An award luncheon is already set in 
the Marshalls’ Dining Room. Today’s review will be brief.”
A surge of disappointment at not celebrating with her Pairling came. Marrec’s 
arm stiffened behind Calli’s back. She sent a responding pulse of resignation to 
him.
Their squires showed up, beaming, congratulating her. Dark Lance and Thunder 
began mind speaking with the two young men, telling them all about the flight.
“I want a shower before lunch,” Marrec said, heading toward their rooms at 
Horseshoe Hall.
“Right,” Calli said, thinking of the big bed.
Thealia snorted. “Lunch in fifteen minutes. Be there.” She walked away.
Alexa shook her head. “No time for fun.”
“That’s what you think,” Bastien said, scooping her up.
A twinge of envy came from Marrec. Calli glanced at him with a puzzled look. 
“What?”
He opened his mouth, then shut it, walking a little faster.
“Please,” said Calli.
He looked at her, then focused on the narrow passageway between Training Hall 
and Horseshoe Close.
“Please let me know what you are thinking when I ask,” Calli said a little 
stiltedly. “Please help me understand Lladranans.” And you.
“I wished I could be as easy with you as Bastien is with Alyeka.” Marrec 
shrugged. “But he is a charming man and I am not. He’s a nobleman and I never 
was.”
“But they weren’t always easy together,” Calli said, keeping up with his stride. 
“It was very rocky between them at first. He—” Hell, what was the phrase for 
“screwed up”? She flapped her hands. “He was awkward.”
“Truly?” Marrec entered the Hall and they strode through the corridor to the 
stairs. Everything in Horseshoe Hall was built in reasonable proportions as 
opposed to the keep.
“I read it in the Lorebook of Exotiques,” Calli said. “Alexa’s story, though she 
doesn’t give a lot of details.”
Marrec grinned, showing the long crease in his cheek. “Too bad.” His eyes 
glinted as they took the stairs. “As far as I know, no one here has exact 
knowledge of when and where Alyeka and Bastien met. Can I read this Lorebook, 
too?”
“It’s in English. But Marian said she’d made some in Lladranan. There’s probably 
one in the Marshalls’ Library.”
Marrec grunted and opened the door to their suite. “I’m becoming reconciled to 
lunch with the Marshalls at the keep, after all.” He stripped quickly and Calli 
followed suit. He was aroused. So was she.
He scooped her up and carried her into the large shower stall. “We’ll just be a 
little late.” He laughed and set her on her feet, turned on the water, which was 
hot and steamy and smelled of mineral salts.
“What?” She closed the door behind her.
“Bastien told me that now I have a bondmate I’d often get aroused by battle.”
“What does he know? He and Alexa aren’t bonded.”
“He’s Paired with an Exotique. And so am I.” Marrec’s hands were slick and 
slippery as he soaped her, transforming the leftover fear into sexual need. 
Calli couldn’t think, let alone reply in Lladranan, so she just melted into his 
embrace and let passion rule.
He was warm, she was wet and the Song between them rang loud in her ears, 
composed of sex and the triumph of the morning and the fantastic feeling of 
rightness. She was exactly where she was supposed to be.
Then the invasion alarm clanged.
22 
T he heavy clamor of the Klaxon rose over the shower. Gasping, Marrec shook his 
head, braced himself with an arm on the wall, shuddered once then swore.
Calli’s voice rasped with fear. “I’ve won my reins. I’m a Chevalier now.”
“Yes.” With a twist of his wrists he turned the faucets off, flung the door 
open, grabbed a towel and dried as he jogged to the bedroom.
Calli caught up her own bath sheet and followed. “I did well this morning. The 
invasions aren’t usually very big, right? We can fight together, as we should, 
as a Pair.” She gulped, raised her chin. “Are our volarans able to handle 
battle?”
Marrec glanced at her. “You’re the Volaran Exotique. You should know.”
“You are more experienced. I don’t want to hurt them,” though when she probed 
she knew she wouldn’t take Thunder, he was too tired.
Tilting his head as if he, too, did a mental sweep of their mounts, Marrec said, 
“Dark Lance is big and tough. The grooming has reenergized him sufficiently that 
he can handle the Distance Magic and battle. Thunder can’t.” He began reciting a 
list of volarans in the Castle stables—ones she’d flown with.
Exhaling slowly, Calli named one of Bastien’s.
Prepare Sunray for battle, Marrec ordered their squires mentally. Through her 
link with Marrec and the men, Calli heard Sunray’s excited trumpet. The 
volaran’s mind brushed hers. We will fly well! His blood hummed with 
determination to protect, with hatred of the monsters invading the land, 
killing.
Thank you, Sunray. 
Marrec wrenched open the wardrobe door and dressed quickly—the thin long 
underwear, his toughest leathers. He pulled out her second set of chain mail and 
his new chain-mail tunic, dreeth breeches and bespelled boots.
Calli dressed in silk undergarments and her second set of battle leathers.
Catching her fingers in his, Marrec brought them to his mouth, kissed them. “Are 
you sure you want to do this?”
“Ayes.”
“Alyeka had much more training.”
“I’ve learned a lot from you. I’ll be a Shield, and I fly a volaran very well.”
“Better than well. Exceptional.” Expressions she couldn’t read ran across his 
face.
“What?”
He grit his jaw, then answered, “I’m proud of you. As a Chevalier, I think you’d 
do fine. But I fear for you.”
“I fear for you, too, and it will only get worse if you ride away and I don’t.” 
She helped him on with his chain mail.
Quick strumming came from the doorharp. It sounded much too innocent. A hard 
rapping or loud knocks would have been more appropriate to Calli—something that 
matched her heartbeat. She opened the door.
Seeva stood on the threshold, looking a little pale. “I didn’t win my reins, so 
I can’t fly to battle.” Her shoulders straightened. “But I am still the head of 
staff of Horseshoe Hall and I know you don’t have a servant yet and thought you 
might need help with your armor.”
“She has me,” Marrec said.
Expression strained, Seeva said, “Of course, but I meant both of you. It’s 
faster when you have someone to help dress.” She gestured to the window. “The 
first wave is already taking off for the battle.”
Marrec glanced out the diamond panes. “Led by Bastien and Alyeka riding his 
primary stallion. Damn, the man’s fast.”
“All the Marshalls and noble Chevaliers have servants. You need some, too, but 
for now, can I help?”
Calli wanted to giggle. She didn’t think Marrec had been referring to Bastien 
getting dressed, but Bastien getting Alexa. But then, hot monkey sex often went 
fast. She and Marrec might have made the fifteen-minute deadline to lunch. She 
cleared her throat. Humor, no matter how minor, always helped her before a 
competition. “Sure…” She gestured to the full mail that she’d only worn once. 
“Help me with this stuff.”
Seeva looked Marrec over as if checking his fastenings and the strength of his 
armor, then picked up Calli’s mail tunic and hurried toward her. The process was 
unexpectedly easy and quick, the mail lightened magically, only heavy with the 
duty of protecting Lladrana.
Seeva patted the shoulders and handed Calli her helm. “Chain mail is good, and 
so are protected leathers, but the best of all is dreeth skin. You’ll have that 
soon, truly.” She smiled, waves of excitement coming off her.
“Marrec!” Lady Hallard’s shout accompanied her running bootsteps. She halted by 
the open door, glanced at them. “You’ve decided to fight.”
It was stupid to feel a little left out of the bond between the Lady and her 
former household Chevalier.
“Don’t you think I’m ready?” Calli’s lips were cold now.
Lady Hallard squinted at her, considered for a couple of seconds, yanked her 
gauntlets from her belt and on. She nodded sharply. “Ayes.” Then her smile 
flashed and she looked years younger. “I had three squires working to reenergize 
my volaran. Let’s go.”
“I helped dress Calli,” Seeva said.
“Good. Find a maidservant for her, and a man for Marrec. Alyeka and Bastien will 
lead. They’re the only ones with several seasoned battle volarans. Half of the 
older Marshalls refrained from training this morning just in case of this 
eventuality.” That meant three pair. “All the younger Marshalls who didn’t 
participate in training will go, too.”
“Twenty-four,” Marrec said. His shoulders seemed to ease. “Plenty to guard 
Calli.”
The quiet was broken by the alarm clanging the call to arms again. Seeva handed 
Calli her gauntlets and the battle helmet Calli disliked.
Marrec met her gaze, his face expressionless. He was fully helmed, gauntlets on. 
He held out a steady hand.
Knowing what he asked silently, feeling more than hearing the huge, overwhelming 
melody between them that twined with an undertone of partnership in the face of 
death, Calli put her hand in his. “We fight together.”
In the yard, she mounted Sunray. He was a blond sorrel…with scars. His body was 
muscular under hers and she merged well with his mind. Thinking of mind-merging 
talent, she glanced left to where Marrec and Dark Lance flew in a bubble of 
Distance Magic. Sunray, too, was strong in this Power. He was fresh, and excited 
to be her partner to her first battle. Beneath that excitement she sensed 
determination to “blood” her—introduce her to combat as easily as possible.
Calli snorted. Like that wasn’t going to be a culture shock. She set her back 
teeth. She’d get through this and only hoped that no one she knew fell. That 
would be the hardest, and that circled back to the question she wanted to ask 
about Marwey, the youngster best in mind-merging. Testing her bond with Marrec, 
she found him focused but not deeply entranced.
Marrec, she mind-whispered.
He turned his head, his deep brown eyes meeting hers. Serious.
Marwey won her reins this morning. Is she flying to battle, too? 
He tilted his head, and she heard distant echoes of those who were linked with 
him and her in a loose net of Chevaliers who would work in a team. Not nearly as 
close as the Marshalls’ ties.
Alyeka—everyone—wishes to protect Marwey as long as possible. She and Pascal 
remain at the Castle. 
Nodding, Calli looked forward again at the curve of her own Distance Magic 
bubble that showed blurred blue sky and green land with hints of snow-topped 
mountains. She’d be the only one experiencing her first battle then. She let out 
her breath with a slow and easy exhalation. She’d be protected, too. Physically. 
She was pretty darn sure that this was going to take a toll emotionally. The 
Calli who flew back to the Castle would not be the same person as she was now.
She rolled her shoulders, shaking off the thought, and decided that there was 
too much thinking time. How did Alexa get through it? How did Bastien? Both were 
very action oriented.
Marrec’s mental touch soothed Calli, as if he ran a hand down her back. Trance. 
Follow our exercises. All three of them—Marrec and Dark Lance and Sunray—began a 
measured human-equine chant that slowed her mind; panic kept her anticipation 
from turning into fear, lowered her energy level—for now. Everything was being 
tucked away, stored, so they could explode into action when the time came. 
Images of past fights came to her from the others and she let them drift and 
disappear without scrutinizing them. Only one thought stayed in the back of her 
mind. This was payment for her new life.
All too soon, Marrec and she banished the distance magic. Lush summer grass was 
shorter here up north, and white-capped mountains scraped the sky. The winged 
horses flew down to a patch of land that showed small forms fighting—Chevaliers, 
Marshalls and horrors. Adrenaline flooded her, the mist of her trance-thoughts 
vanished as if touched by the scorching sun of fear.
We outnumber them. Marrec’s jaw was set. He loosened his sword in his scabbard.
Not by much. There must have been two dozen monsters down there. Real slayers 
and renders and soul-suckers.
Why don’t we use arrows or throw spears? It wasn’t something she’d thought of 
before, but looked like a real good option now.
They are bespelled against arrows. Have always been after the first invasion. 
Calli’s palms dampened inside her leather-lined gauntlets; she unsnapped the 
straps holding her sword immobile for traveling. Lady Hallard, now ahead of them 
and leading a second wave of Chevaliers, drew her sword and screamed a battle 
cry, sending her volaran slanting down at a large group of monsters. Faucon had 
taken the right side of the battlefield, Alexa and the Marshalls the center. 
Marrec followed Lady Hallard. They were only a few minutes behind the first 
attack.
The colors of carnage—red blood, yellow ichor, acid-green splotches, sluggish 
gray puddles from twitching severed tentacles—pooled on the ground.
Sing! commanded Sunray.
Shield! The defensive sphere snapped hard around Marrec and herself. He grinned, 
showing teeth, swinging his sword, decapitating a slayer. Swung to his left, 
fighting two renders and a soul-sucker. The soul-sucker’s tentacles slid off 
Marrec’s Shield.
Good. Good, Sunray sent, holding back, like other Shield volarans.
Calli struggled with horror, with terror, with nausea. She saw a horse-rider 
pair go down. Her throat closed.
Closest local lord, Sunray said, but his thoughts, too, edged with black fear. 
We are too far into Lladrana.
Calm! She sent the emotion…knew it was only the thin skim of her own surface 
emotion. Everything deeper was roiling—shock as she saw spines of a slayer 
nearly penetrate Marrec’s shield. She used a spurt of pure fear to fling the 
darts away, killed a render with them and froze an instant. Only the quick 
reflexes of a man on the ground had saved him from her missiles!
She had to think, but panic bubbled up. This wasn’t a thirteen-second ride. This 
was a long haul.
Sunray backwinged, banked. Wobbled. Her emotions were affecting him! She’d lost 
sight of Marrec.
Volarans were on each side of her—Marshall Shields—crowding her, crowding 
Sunray, turning them back to the fight where her husband risked his life.
He still attacked, killed two soul-suckers, sent chunks of them flying.
The Songs saved her. The strong one coming to her from Marrec, the Shields and 
their volarans brushing her mind like soft feathers. Fear diminished slightly 
and the trickle of notes became streams of fierce Power, merging into battle 
music. Brass harmonics rang in her head, steadied her. She would not run. She 
would stand—and fly.
There was a scream above her. A shadow fell on Marrec, on herself and the two 
Shields.
“Fire dreeth!” yelled the woman on her right…pulled away…drew her baton.
The long neck of the pterodactyl-like horror snaked. Beak with wicked teeth 
snapped. Marrec ducked. His shield took a hard hit that struck Calli on the 
chest. She sucked air. Think! She had to think. They’d practiced this.
Marrec cut a slayer in two. Dark Lance angled sideways.
Fire blackened the corpses around him, ashed a volaran-Chevalier pair.
Calli fought down a screech. Pushed back grief. Refused to let the last screams 
of the volaran and Chevalier echo in her head.
Anger trickled through her terror, and it was good, cleansing, supporting.
Two streams of Power—sapphire and gold—flashed from batons to the left and right 
of her, hit the fire dreeth. It cried in pain, in fury.
Face savage, Marrec and Dark Lance shot toward the dreeth’s underbelly, dodged 
the spiny tail. Fire breath singed Dark Lance’s outermost wingtip. He screamed, 
too, in pain, in defiance.
Showtime.
She wasn’t thinking now, but listening to the surging Power fueled by the 
determination that ruled the battlefield. Calli grabbed the remnants of fire, 
twisted them, flung Power into them like gunpowder, sparking the flames like 
fireworks, turning them back on the dreeth. It shrieked in terror, tried to 
backwing.
Marrec, face grim, ducked under the fiery explosions and ripped the monster from 
throat to crotch. Gray-green guts pushed through the breach, glistening twists.
The dreeth went up like a torch, plummeted.
Other horrors were killed as it landed. The sound of the impact shuddered 
through the air.
Marrec and Dark Lance whirled, but there were no other dreeths.
Done! Huge relief poured from him to her. Battle over.
Calli tore her gaze from him, swept the land with a glance. Alexa and Bastien 
stood in the middle of the field, themselves surveying the remnants of battle. 
Alexa looked grim, but neither of them had wounds. Calli’s breath escaped in 
little puffs. “It’s over.”
No Marshalls’ batons rose from the land—none of them had died. Five swords 
showed where Chevaliers had perished, along with their volarans. A horrible ache 
throbbed through her entire body. One of her volaran partnering pairs was dead.
Sunray landed. Dark Lance did, too, but held his left wing awkwardly, away from 
his body.
One of the young Shieldmarshalls—the one with the golden baton—handed Calli a 
bag. “Volaran Burn Balm.” Her smile was strained. “Recently developed by the 
Castle medicas.”
This Calli could do. She stroked Sunray’s neck, praising him. He stood calmly, a 
few twitches of his muscles showing the effects of battle, but mind serene.
She dismounted, wanting to fling herself in Marrec’s arms, but reckoned that was 
too emotional for everyone else. Besides, he was on the far side of Dark Lance, 
examining the wing. She kept her show smile on and stiffened her legs, getting 
the feel of the uneven ground before she walked around to Dark Lance.
“Not too bad,” Marrec said.
Dark Lance shifted and Calli smelled burnt feathers. Her heart pounded. It rose 
from the battlefield, too. Dead volarans. Hurt volarans. She’d never thought in 
her life that the smell of burnt feathers would forever mean grief.
She licked her lips, tried her voice as she opened the bag, which she realized 
was soul-sucker skin. She couldn’t suppress the quick shudder.
“You all right?” Marrec’s eyes were dark, in their depths was the lingering heat 
of fighting.
“Ayes.” That was barely audible. She cleared her throat. “Ayes.”
He nodded, then returned to examining Dark Lance’s wing.
The bag was filled with a clear gel-like substance. She scooped some into her 
palm and onto her fingers.
With his right hand, Marrec held Dark Lance’s wingtip steady. His left hand 
closed over hers. His fingers, too, trembled slightly from the aftermath of 
battle. “The feathers are gone, the bone a little scorched, but nothing 
permanent.” He pulled his gaze from hers to look down at the wing. “This new 
stuff should heal it right up. Especially with a little Power from us.”
Calli slathered on the ointment. Dark Lance’s wing rippled under her fingers. 
She touched bone and they all flinched. She reached for more, but Marrec stayed 
her hand. “The cost is dear. Let’s Sing.”
A grunt came from Alexa as she strode up. Her lips had curved slightly. She 
jerked her head at the dreeth. “You are now a wealthy man.”
Marrec’s breath came out on a shudder.
Alexa tilted her head at the dreeth. “These don’t burn as well as the big ones, 
so you can harvest more. Of course, my first dreeth was bigger.” She winked at 
Calli, but Calli got images from Alexa that the smaller woman had been just as 
scared as Calli was, and more—Alexa had been afoot and certain the dreeth would 
crush her to death.
Marrec’s fingers touched the back of Calli’s hand and the simple comfort of the 
gesture had bigger ripples of emotions washing through her. “Let’s Sing,” he 
said.
He led her into a simple healing chant. Calli raised her voice with his, 
steadied it, let the harmony of the music they made together sink into her. Dark 
Lance whuffled. The pain had greatly lessened for him until it was something he 
thought wasn’t too bad. Calli reckoned that had Thunder been experiencing the 
hurt, he’d be stamping and giving voice to discomfort. But Dark Lance had been 
wounded before.
As had Marrec.
Both of them considered this injury light.
When Marrec and she were finished with the third round, they stopped.
People had gathered and the general murmur was that the wingtip was well tended. 
Marrec folded Dark Lance’s wing against his barrel, then he and Calli wiped 
their hands on a towel and Calli gave the pouch back to the Shieldmarshall.
Alexa cleared her throat and something about the noise made Calli stiffen and 
meet her eyes, which showed a little regret. “The blooding,” Alexa said.
Calli had forgotten the blooding. She straightened, every muscle tense. She did 
not want any horror’s blood on her. Too bad.
Marrec stooped, rose. His hand whipped up, finger yellow with ichor. He dabbed a 
bit above Calli’s right eyebrow. It stank of death rotting. Calli swallowed 
bile, tightened her throat and stomach, refused the gag reflex.
A cheer rose, full of satisfaction and Song. It sounded nothing like a rodeo 
audience. Calli preferred clapping.
Marrec wiped his hand on a handkerchief then held her, and she leaned into his 
strength.
“How close are we to home?” she asked.
“We’re east of the spur. And north.” He whispered against her hair, stirring it 
until she tingled.
She heard what he didn’t say. “Not far enough north.”
“No, this is one of the southernmost incursions we’ve fought.”
Alexa turned a little to stare at the white-peaked mountains rising high into 
the horizon, frowning. “I’d heard that the horrors could…um…‘rise’ from the 
ground the farthest they had penetrated Lladrana, but I’d never seen it before.”
“Ayes,” said Lady Hallard. “I think we fought in this place pretty soon after we 
discovered the fence posts were falling.” Her expression hardened. “We must 
ensure that the horrors can never penetrate any farther south.” After another 
sweeping study of the battlefield, she said, “As I recall, the previous invasion 
was worse, and we lost more people.” She stared at the dreeth. “Though we didn’t 
have any dreeths, let alone a fire dreeth.” Slapping her gauntlets against her 
leg, she looked at Calli and Marrec and said, “I have a suspicion that the 
dreeth was for you. That all of this was for you.”
Marrec seemed to turn to rock against her. “What do you mean?”
23 
“R etrousse,” Marrec said. “A place where the monsters were conjured to, not 
tramping over the border themselves.”
Looking at the solid range of mountains to the north, Calli said, “No chance of 
that. No pass.”
“No pass,” Alexa said at the same time.
Thealia said, “This is the first retrousse ground battle—where the horrors were 
magically sent to a place that had been the stage of a previous battle—we’ve had 
since the first Exotique—” she nodded at Alexa “—came. That the dreeth—a horror 
we haven’t seen lately—manifested over you, on the left wing of the battle, not 
in the middle of the field. And this invasion was within a few minutes of our 
Chevalier Exotique receiving her reins.”
Calli turned to face everyone, Marrec warm and solid at her back. “You think 
the…Dark…knew somehow that I might fly to fight?”
“That this was a trap like those inside the Castle?” asked Alexa, her green eyes 
very wide as she fixed her gaze on Lady Hallard.
The Lady shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Another trap, sprung because someone in the Castle is in touch with the Dark 
forces,” Alexa said. “To try and destroy Calli.” She lifted her nose, sniffed. 
“Retrousse makes a place smell different.”
“It would be interesting to know the history of this land,” Marrec said. “How 
many battles were fought here throughout the ages.”
“The landowner and most of her people are dead,” said Faucon, joining them. “I 
was just speaking with the woman’s page. Not even her squire survived.” Marrec’s 
arms tightened around Calli’s waist, making her nausea worse. She struggled 
against him. He flinched, then let her go. Clammy sweat filmed her skin. She 
turned her head, strove not to vomit.
Alexa shoved an unstoppered canteen in her hand. “Drink this. Bespelled mint 
water. It’ll help.”
The liquid was cool down her tight throat, tasted good, but now she had the pale 
shakes.
“You don’t look so good, girlfriend,” Alexa said.
“Home.” Calli backed closer to Marrec until his body was once again against hers 
as she looked up at his square jaw. “I want to go home. A coupla days ago the 
staff said the house would be ready by now. I want to go home.”
Lady Hallard frowned. “We should have a war council on this.”
Alexa and the rest of the Marshalls nodded.
“Do it without us. You can tell us of the results later.” Last thing she wanted 
to do was fly back to the Castle to sit inside for an hours-long meeting.
“Bastien, can we keep Sunray overnight?” Marrec asked.
“Of course,” Bastien said.
Sunray, would you fly with us to our new home? 
Yes! Sunray lifted his wings in excitement.
“Burning dreeth is almost out,” Bastien said. “Storm’s coming in. The rain’ll 
take care of the rest of the flames.” He gestured to the clouds rolling in, big 
and puffy and dark gray.
“The local manor is available if we want to stay the night. War council there,” 
Faucon said.
“Guess we’d better,” Bastien said.
Lady Hallard snorted. “I hope they have minstrels who know the local history.”
“Or Lorebooks,” Alexa said. She reached out and grabbed Bastien’s hand, her 
smile resigned. “I’d like to go home, too, but it looks like we’re staying.”
Marrec nodded shortly. “We’ll be back midmorning tomorrow to harvest the dreeth, 
since only those who killed it can do so.” He lifted Calli, waved at Dark Lance 
to back up, then set her atop Sunray. “Let’s go.”
He’d said those words earlier, to go to fight, and she’d agreed and followed 
him. She found his hands and squeezed, bringing his gaze to hers. He yearned for 
home, too, that Song rose from him. She replied as she thought she’d reply for 
the rest of her life. “We’ll go together.”
Raindrops splattered around them. The edge of the storm had reached them.
 
Calli entered their home. Marrec stared at it, disconcerted. A large three-story 
mansion of gray stone, it was far beyond what he’d ever aspired to and he 
wondered if he’d ever feel comfortable in it. He snorted. He’d feel more at home 
in the three-room shed off the stable that was the size of the cottage he grew 
up in.
But only he and she were here from the Castle. It was safe, and that was the 
most important thing.
Squaring his shoulders, he walked through the door with a trace of swagger that 
he borrowed from Bastien. He wouldn’t let the imposing house erode his 
self-confidence. This was his home. If he hadn’t been worthy of this place, 
Thunder wouldn’t have pushed Calli and him to choose it. Those words came far 
too often to his mind. He’d soon have to shake off this doubt or others would 
see it. That could erode the respect he’d garnered just from being Pairbonded 
with Calli. He was a good Chevalier, now he needed to become a great Chevalier. 
Clenching his jaw, he vowed to be up to the task.
This time the door opened smoothly on oiled hinges. The entry hall was clean, 
though some of the stone squares making up the floor showed scars and pits. The 
wide stone banister was equally worn.
But the floor and banister were polished, the walls painted a soft cream color. 
He’d wanted whitewash, just to show how pristine his home was, no more living 
with stains. Calli had been right, there, too, the creamy color made the place 
more welcoming. The scent of mildew had been replaced by the aroma of fresh 
herbs.
Calli stood in the center of the hallway, hands on hips, turning around. He 
studied her aura, her stance, listened carefully to her Song that always 
murmured in his heart. She’d set the memories of the battle aside. He had no 
doubt they’d return, perhaps in nightmares as his did occasionally, but for now 
she was focused on the house. Their home.
The faint footfalls of a maid came from the second floor and Marrec frowned. 
He’d forgotten that they needed new rugs. Something to discuss with Calli. He’d 
begun to like their talk almost as much as their sex.
“Gina’s freshening up the bedroom for us,” Calli said, rolling her shoulders. 
“I’d love a bath.”
He sighed. This manor, like many others, had been built on land with natural hot 
springs. To Calli’s delight, a fussy glass house enclosed the bathing pool, 
which was surrounded by rough granite rock with green and orange lichen growing 
on it, like it was outdoors. Marrec suspected that this room itself would have 
sold her on the place. They’d ordered new panes to replace cracked and broken 
ones, and Marrec was glad it was summer.
“I’m sure that the shower in our suite has been repaired,” he said. “Bath.”
“Since it’s just the two of us.”
She flushed a little, and that was as fascinating as usual. “Yes. Since it’s 
just the two of us. I told my maid not to interrupt us.” Her cheeks pinkened 
further and his body stirred.
“Good.”
“There’s stew for dinner.”
“Good.”
She sighed, glanced around again. “Not quite home yet, but we’ll make it one.”
“Yes.”
 
Marrec lay in bed listening to Calli’s even breathing. The house was quiet. He 
was used to the muted bustle of Horseshoe Hall, of Lady Hallard’s manor, but 
since neither Calli nor he was accustomed to servants, they had kept their staff 
at a minimum. Only four lived in the house, and the aged caretaker in a 
gatehouse.
Calli had inspected the stables with space for both volarans and horses. Unlike 
the stables at the Marshalls’ Castle, this one alternated large stalls for 
volaran and horse. That was the setup Marrec liked the best, and Calli had 
listened to his advice and agreed. If anything happened to the stables, the 
volarans might be able to save the horses if they were all together. He’d 
followed Calli as she scrutinized the work they’d paid for on the horse paddocks 
and arena, the volaran space, the other outbuildings. For both of them these had 
been the priority, even more than the house or hiring servants.
The long slow note of the mountains sifted into him. It had been a long time 
since he’d lived near mountains. Dread had clenched his gut when he’d seen that 
their valley was bordered on three sides with peaks. They weren’t quite the size 
of the great northern range, of the peaks he’d loved as a child…before. Another 
thing he was determined to become accustomed to. He’d cherished the sight of 
sunrise and sunset colors on white-capped mountains once, he must not let the 
past continue to take that joy from him. He’d relearn it. And with another level 
of acceptance of his new future, he slid into sleep.
Something woke him. A sound, a Song, he thought. He strained to listen. The rain 
poured outside the window, splattered against the panes as the wind shifted, 
dripped from the eaves. No pings from frinks. That was good.
Gardpont. The mental call didn’t tell him much—a rough male whisper edged with 
desperation. Marrec slid from the bed and pulled on his trousers, shrugged into 
a shirt and drew on his old boots, buckled his knife belt.
Dark Lance whinnied with fright, demanding reassurance from Marrec. Someone 
comes.
Easy. Sense him for me, check if you recognize his Song. 
At Marrec’s quiet tone, the volaran settled. Cocked his ears, sniffed. Marrec 
hurried from the suite. Stopped. Turned and locked the door. Shielded it with 
the best protection spell he had.
Now Sunray, closer to the stable doors, sent him jittery images. I don’t know 
him.
I have heard this man’s Song before, Dark Lance said. But he is not happy…and 
there are two Songs.
By this time Marrec was at the door nearest the stables, putting on a slicker 
cape, grabbing one of the new cowboy hats Calli had given him. He stepped into 
the rain, sending a widespread probe for danger. Vague movement, black against 
black, a man stumbling, a thin cry, made his belly tense. He fingered the hilt 
of his knife. Looking away from the stables, he hummed a lightball spell.
The other exclaimed in surprise. Hit the stable wall with his shoulder. Leaned 
there. “Gardpont?”
“I’m here.” His eyes now accustomed to the dim light, Marrec saw the man huddled 
in a royal-blue cape, his arms full of a bundle. “Who are you?”
“Gentral.”
The tension at the base of Marrec’s spine eased. He’d flown into battle with the 
minor noble. “What are you doing here?”
“Got a baby for you.”
“What!”
“Heard you and your bondmate—the new Exotique—were interested in adopting. My 
old mistress just told me I had a daughter…shook me down for blackmail. Hadn’t 
seen her for more’n eighteen months, simply been sending her a stipend. She 
wanted more for the kid. Or didn’t want the kid at all.” His breaths were pants, 
more from anxiety than exertion, Marrec thought.
Gentral continued, “She has a farm just over the spur. Infant hasn’t been 
treated well. I thought of you.”
“We’re not ready—”
“Can’t take the youngster back, not good for her there. Can’t take her home, my 
wife would gut me, harm the child.” He laughed harshly. “I have a wife. A 
dynastic marriage, you know. Stuck with her. Not lucky like you. Won’t ever be 
able to Pairbond. All I wanted was a little ease.”
Marrec walked to where Gentral stood in the dark shadow from the roof 
overhanging the stables. The noble’s eyes were wild, his face drawn with anger 
and distress. He held a bundle in stiff arms, then opened a smelly blanket to 
show the thin face of a young child with a dark bruise on one cheekbone. Her 
black hair stuck out in all directions. Marrec didn’t know much about children, 
but enough to know this one was less than a year old and puny. He made no move 
to take her.
“I won’t—”
“I saved your skin last year. This is payback. I won’t take her. You want kids. 
You owe me. We all win.”
“Marrec?” Calli called. Her squelching footsteps came toward them.
“Here! For the love of the Song, don’t tell her who I am!” Gentral thrust the 
baby into Marrec’s arms, turned and ran off with a ground-eating stride. Marrec 
stood helplessly, holding the babe, her big black eyes fixed on his face. He 
knew without a doubt that the moment Calli saw the child, heard her 
circumstances, he’d have a daughter. It was too soon to start a family, he 
hadn’t even gotten the rhythm down of being a husband, a Pairling.
Merde.
“What’s wrong? I see someone running. Dark red aura. Did we have an intruder?”
“Not exactly.”
A volaran’s whinny rose in the night, the beat of wings.
Calli scowled as she joined him, head tilted. “I don’t think I know that 
volaran.”
Marrec couldn’t recall whether Gentral had been at the Castle when she’d been 
Summoned. He didn’t think so.
The little girl coughed. Her tiny fingers flexed around the blanket edge. Calli 
froze beside him. Slowly she looked down at the small face. Her breath whooshed 
out as if from a blow.
“Who’s this?”
“An acquaintance’s bastard. Just abandoned to us. Was told she’d been 
mistreated.”
“How terrible!” She glanced down, reached out to touch the little girl’s cheek.
The child flinched, whimpering with fear, and struggled in Marrec’s arms until 
he found it easier to hold her upright against him. The little girl’s arms came 
around his neck. She set her face against his throat, sniffed him. Cuddled.
“Well,” Calli said, looking dubiously at Marrec and the girl.
Marrec didn’t know what to say.
“Do you think she’s afraid of me because of my coloring?” She reached out to 
stroke the child’s back.
The little girl shuddered. Calli jerked her hand away and met Marrec’s gaze. Her 
eyes wide, her lips pressed together. “I heard a bit of Song. She’s scared 
because I’m a woman.”
Marrec had heard a short burst of panic notes, too. He nodded. He didn’t think 
he’d be able to hand the little one over to Calli anytime soon.
“We’d better get her inside,” Calli said brusquely.
“Good idea,” Marrec said, following Calli as she walked back to the house. The 
little girl’s cold fingers touched his collarbone, curled around the open edge 
of his shirt. He got the idea she was afraid to make a sound, that the strange 
woman would hurt her, that the child liked his scent.
Great.
“What’s her name?” Calli asked over her shoulder.
“I don’t know.”
“Huh. And you’re not going to tell me who dropped her off? Do you think we 
should keep her?”
Both thorny questions. “A Chevalier who saved my life in battle last year 
claimed payback.”
Calli snorted.
“That’s what I think, too. I never went around tallying lives I saved in 
battle,” Marrec grumbled, shifting the child. Something squished beneath his 
hand. The little girl whimpered. “But since you don’t know the person, I’d 
prefer to leave it that way.”
“In case I hesitate to save the Chevalier’s life in battle?”
Marrec grunted. Thunder rumbled and the little girl let out a wail. He found 
himself rocking her and muttering endearments that he dimly recalled from his 
own childhood and his younger brothers. He could almost see once more the faces 
of his family. He shut the door on the images. The baby’s appearance seemed 
aristocratic, with a thin nose and large eyes and well-molded lips.
They hurried back to the house in the rain. Calli’s excitement bubbled to 
Marrec.
“Do you think we can take care of her by ourselves tonight?” Calli stared at the 
blanket, looking for any wetness. There was a definite odor. “I, uh, don’t know 
what are used for diapers here.” Why hadn’t she thought of that? “We aren’t 
ready for a family yet!”
Marrec’s smile held little humor. “No, we aren’t. Help me with my gear.”
She removed his hat, peeled the slicker off and hung them both on hooks, did the 
same for herself, all the while keeping her yearning hands from the little girl. 
He grunted a short spellsong and the mud disappeared from their boots. Nice. She 
hadn’t learned that one yet, but it wasn’t enough to distract her from the baby. 
A bone-deep feeling said nothing would distract her from claiming the child.
He didn’t go up the stairs to their suite, but strolled down the left corridor 
and opened the door to the small parlor.
As they walked into the room, the fire flickered to life and a fuzzy yellow 
sunlike ball brightened the room. It was the warmest and homiest of the 
downstairs rooms, with good but shabby furniture. Marrec set the baby on the 
floor.
Before their startled eyes she whipped from the blanket and scrunched into a dim 
corner, crawling with an extra push of Power. They stared at each other.
Calli cleared her throat. “Is your friend Powerful?”
“He’s not my friend.” Marrec narrowed his eyes as if calling up an image of the 
man. “Powerful enough, I suppose. A wide streak of silver. He should have known 
better than to get into a fix like this.”
“Ah. Huh,” was all Calli could think of to say. She took a couple of steps 
toward the little girl who was only clothed in what looked like a long slip, and 
the child cringed, putting thin, bruised arms over her head. Hiding. “Oh, boy,” 
Calli said, tamping down on anger. “I don’t like your acquaintance much.”
“No.”
“She sure doesn’t want me. Why don’t you try?”
Marrec let out a sigh, lowered himself to the floor and inched toward the girl, 
who was peeping around her elbow. She trembled.
He stopped.
Song. Could a lullaby help? That might be a good idea, but Calli couldn’t think 
of one offhand. She sure didn’t recall anyone singing one to her. Shit.
She could hum, though. Hum something. To her surprise the first song that came 
to mind was “I Ride An Old Paint.” Now, she’d heard that sometimes as a kid. It 
was sort of slow. So she began to hum that.
Marrec tossed her a look, frowned. Do we know any songs in common?
Only our own. 
He smiled at that, glanced at the little girl, crept forward a few steps on 
hands and knees. The child watched with wide eyes. Calli hummed a little louder. 
Marrec slowly walked forward. Finally when he was within the girl’s reach, he 
stopped. They stared at each other.
Tentatively, the babe reached out and patted his nose.
Marrec smiled.
Gaze darting to Calli, then back to Marrec, the little girl’s lips curved. She 
grabbed the strands of hair that fell around his face.
Good going, kid. That’s nice, feeling stuff. 
Minutes rolled by and both Calli and Marrec remained still, unthreatening. 
Finally the child squirmed a bit, held up her hands to Marrec.
He picked her up.
Calli exhaled slowly.
Marrec went to a two-person sofa and sat cradling the toddler.
“How’s she feel?” asked Calli.
He smiled, slow and sweet. “Good. She feels good.”
Swallowing, Calli sat next to them.
The little girl’s face crumpled.
Calli scooted to the end of the small couch, not far, but it seemed to relieve 
the little girl. She stuck her thumb in her mouth and Calli thought about 
bacteria. Heaven knew what sort of dirt was on that thumb. She didn’t have that 
much experience with kids. Yearned for them, yes, practical experience, no. 
Would the child still be on a bottle? Surely not. What did they use?
She sent the question…a montage of images from Earth about babies to Marrec.
The little girl blinked owlishly.
Calli decided to hum again. The child burrowed into Marrec, closing her eyes. 
Calli figured that was a good sign. She wondered what would happen if she sent 
the little girl Power as she had when the horses were frightened. Touching the 
toddler’s mind might not be a good thing. Could she fashion something like a 
warm mood…an emotional blanket to reassure the girl?
Pairling, Marrec whispered in her mind.
Moving her gaze from the child to her husband’s face, she saw his smile widen. I 
recall when my younger brothers fell asleep so fast, so deeply.
Yes, the girl was sound asleep. Marrec’s vague childhood memories touched her.
If the little girl was helping Marrec remember the good of his past, then she 
was already a boon to them.
“I’ll go to the kitchen and see what we might have for food. Pick up some soft 
cloths for diapers,” he murmured, slowly shifting the girl.
“I can—”
He put the sleeping child into her arms. “Hold our child.”
Calli looked up at him with suddenly swimming eyes. The warm little body filled 
her arms, lodged in her heart. She had a child now, one who would love her. Her 
dreams were coming true.
24 
T heir arrival at the manor near the previous day’s battle with the baby caused 
a big commotion. Calli couldn’t help herself from discreetly checking out male 
Chevaliers who might look like the child, but she knew everyone. Only what she’d 
come to think of as the core group remained and she already knew that neither 
Faucon nor Koz would give up a child…and neither was married. She’d gotten that 
much information from Marrec.
To her surprise, the rest of the older Marshalls had flown in, and so had 
Marwey, who organized everything for the little girl, including finding a former 
Chevalier of the place as a babysitter/guard. The feycoocus were there, too, and 
they Sang approval of the whole business. Marwey used the magical beings to send 
word to Seeva and have one of the bedrooms in Calli and Marrec’s suite turned 
into a nursery.
The war council didn’t take long and the only conclusion it came to was that 
more retrousse battles were probable.
Calli and Marrec had already decided that was likely, and had held each other 
through the night, dozing and thinking about what being fighting Chevaliers 
would be like with a family.
With more guts than she thought she had, Calli accompanied Marrec to the dreeth 
they’d killed. Marian and Jaquar, who had taken part in the discussion, were 
surveying the dead flying dinosaur. Marian looked a little pale.
The battlefield itself looked…serene. Calli’d known that the fallen humans were 
always quickly absorbed by the land and swallowed hard as she found the grass 
greener in certain spots…then shuddered as she saw the burnt areas. Yet, she 
sucked in a big breath as she walked to the dreeth.
As she drew near, anger and resolve burned within her. This monster had wanted 
to kill—Marrec, herself, anyone it could. That was the sole purpose of its life.
And its appearance matched its intention. It was ugly.
“Good,” Jaquar said, “you’re here.” He gestured to the dreeth and green lines 
glowed on it. “I’ve designated the cuts for maximum skin.”
Calli swallowed. “You want anything?”
“Teeth and claws are always good for spells,” Marian said.
“Eyes—” Jaquar started.
Both women shuddered.
“My apologies.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t think we need eyes today.”
Calli didn’t even want to know what eyes might be useful for. She watched as 
Marrec took out a huge knife, set the point into the shoulder and drew it down. 
To her amazement, the skin cut easily, magically. More Power. Huh.
“A bespelled blade,” Marian murmured.
Nodding, Marrec made short work of the butchering. Bracing herself, Calli 
unsheathed the knife Marrec had put on the Bonding Table and touched one to a 
tooth. Only a tap had them falling into her hand.
“Well done,” Marrec said, folding the nearly bloodless—ichorless—skin and 
tucking it under his arm. He eyed the dreeth. “There’s enough skin for leathers 
for you, a tunic for me and the rest can be sold as outer covering for hats.”
“Hats?” asked Jaquar.
Marrec spared him a glance. “Dreeth hats are all the rage in the city-states. 
Carried, mostly, not worn.” He lifted a shoulder. “To impress others.”
“Conspicuous consumption,” Marian said.
“I guess,” Calli said. “It will pay the bills.”
“For sure.” Marian’s smile gleamed. “You’ll have plenty for that house of yours, 
and your new baby, Mama.”
Warmth bloomed in Calli’s heart, suffusing her, making her blush. Both men 
watched. She sniffed. “Thank you.”
A shout came from the other end of the battlefield. Marwey hopped up and down, 
waving her arms.
Salutations, Calli, sent Thunder.
Having him here, too, was comforting. Hello, Thunder.
I have brought a carry sacque for The Daughter. 
There was a loud snort, mental and physical, from Dark Lance. I will carry The 
Daughter. She doesn’t like Calli.
“Thanks a lot,” Calli muttered, the warmth of motherhood leaving her for harsh 
reality. Marrec’s arm came around her waist as they walked with Jaquar and 
Marian to the manor house.
Once there, Calli checked Dark Lance’s wound and energy level, while Marrec 
trotted into the house to collect the baby. Calli was standing outside the 
stables with the saddled and bridled volarans when Thealia strode up. The 
Swordmarshall’s eyes flashed with a mixture of emotions. “What has gotten into 
you that you are adopting a young child after only a night with her?”
Calli had known Thealia could be blunt, but hadn’t been on the receiving end 
before. She sent the woman a cool glance. “I have a husband. We want children. 
You fought when your children were young, didn’t you?”
“The circumstances were not the same. There were occasional small incursions of 
the horrors. That was all.” Her mouth folded into pinched lines.
“It’s too bad that you Marshalls didn’t prevent the current conditions,” Calli 
said. “But that’s past and Marrec and I deserve to shape the life we want, just 
as you and your bondmate did when you were young.”
Marian, standing tall next to Calli, said, “Everyone knew that Calli and Marrec 
were going to adopt children.”
“They should not adopt such a child, not when Calli’s first duty lies with 
defending Lladrana.”
“Who else will take the little girl?” demanded Calli.
Thealia’s face set. “I will find someone.”
“No, you won’t,” said Marrec, holding the clean toddler dressed in a linen shift 
and dark brown romper with buttons on a padded behind. At least the baby clothes 
looked like something Calli could handle.
“I don’t want you distracted! We can’t afford to lose you,” Thealia said.
“Thealia,” Jaquar said. “Look at the three of them. The child is bonding with 
Marrec as we speak.”
Everyone fell silent, listening as Calli was, to the little girl’s Song, 
harmonically weaving with Marrec’s. Even last night the child’s personal melody 
hadn’t been like this—today it was stronger, more Powerful, as if being with 
Marrec, hearing him, taught her…something. Whatever fathers taught children, 
Calli thought, then winced inwardly as that led to her own father’s lack of 
emotional support for her.
Every couple of bars, the child’s Song included notes of Calli and Marrec’s 
PairSong, and a little bit later, spiraled out to pick up a beat of Calli’s own 
tune.
Thealia sighed. “You’re right. But I am not pleased.” She turned on her heel and 
went to the end of the stables where her husband and their flying steeds 
awaited.
“I think we should stay at the Castle for a while,” Jaquar mused. He smiled at 
Calli. “Calli can teach us to properly partner with a volaran…more zhiv for her 
coffers.” He nodded to Marrec. “Better formally bond with the little one as soon 
as possible.”
Marrec inclined his torso, his large hand spread across the infant’s back since 
she lay against his chest. “The ceremony will be this afternoon in the Temple. 
Luthan Vauxveau, as representative of the Singer and Song, will officiate.”
Marian hummed approval. “That will be interesting to watch.”
Calli glanced over to her. “Something new for you, too?”
“Oh, something new every day.” She grinned.
“I was afraid of that.”
 
That afternoon, after a ritual cleansing in the shower, Marrec carried the 
little girl to the Temple for the Bonding ceremony. Calli’s heart pounded in 
anticipation as they walked slowly through the courtyards. She held hands with 
Marrec, and the infant turned her head away from Calli. People lingered to watch 
them, this new event having caused as much gossip as anything else that had 
happened since Calli had arrived.
Both she, Marrec and the toddler wore black robes edged with silver. From the 
Song that Sang between her and Marrec, she knew he was pleased and excited, too, 
though he was expressionless.
Luthan Vauxveau, Bastien’s brother and the representative of the Singer, was 
already in the Temple. The ceremony would give the little girl a name and 
bloodbind the child to them in a simple manner. They’d all contribute a couple 
of drops of blood to a potion, then all would drink. Calli understood that this 
was the best way to bond with a baby.
Their squires opened the door for them and they entered the dim coolness of the 
Temple, redolent with incense rising from censers—an oddly fresh scent that 
seemed like new clover, fresh-mown grass and a mountain breeze. The little girl 
took her thumb from her mouth and raised her head, sniffing. Then she craned to 
look at the large space and smiled. She leaned back in Marrec’s arms to clap her 
hands…and hum.
Everyone stared at her as her small voice matched one of the background tones of 
Power stored in the rafter crystals.
Luthan stood by an altar in the center of a shining golden star, and the rest of 
Calli’s friends waited just outside a circle of the same color. He nodded to a 
wooden screen partitioning a portion of the room. “You may disrobe over there.”
Calli tensed, she hadn’t realized that this was going to be a nude ritual. She 
glanced at Marrec, but he only raised an eyebrow. But she was all too aware that 
this very first instruction tested her desire to adopt the baby. Marrec set the 
child on a padded leather table and she promptly stuck her thumb back in her 
mouth and watched as they undressed. Calli folded their good robes as Marrec 
freed the baby from her diaper and dress. Once again he lifted her and held out 
a hand for Calli. She linked fingers with him and breathed deeply. He looked 
aside from her, the trickle of his personal Song suppressed, his face stern.
“Marrec?” she whispered.
I do not want to display any…desire…for you. 
Well, something about nudity they finally agreed upon, though the coolness of 
the Temple had already tightened her nipples. The first thing that sprang to 
Calli’s mind was the simple “I love you.” But she didn’t know how he’d react and 
this was so not the time or place to say that. She scrambled for the phrase that 
had become the basic resonance between them. “We will do this together.”
His gaze softened, then his mouth firmed and he jerked a nod, squeezed her hand 
and they left the privacy behind the screen with measured, matching steps.
Luthan beckoned them to enter the pentagram along one point of the star and they 
did. To Calli, their footfalls accompanied their bond Song.
“Place the baby on the altar,” Luthan said. His voice boomed through the Temple, 
magically amplified.
Marrec had to pry the little girl’s arms from around his neck, but soothed 
her…and Calli saw how he slid his mind against hers. Once on the altar the 
infant hunched into herself, watching everything with wide eyes, hands curled in 
front of her mouth. She’d stopped singing and that was a real pity.
“What are your intentions toward this child?” Luthan asked.
“To adopt this baby and make her part of our family,” Marrec said.
Luthan turned to Calli. “You agree?”
“Yes.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You are both fighting Chevaliers.”
Marrec nodded. Calli thought everyone needed more explanations. “I am the 
Volaran Chevalier, and I will finish whatever the specific task I have been 
Summoned for, but I consider my true goals in life to be teaching volaran 
partnering to volarans and people.” She inhaled, continued firmly, “My personal 
goals have always been to have a husband and family.” She licked her lips. “The 
Song would not have Summoned me here if my priorities weren’t…um…acceptable 
to…it.”
A huge volaran Song comprising of all the winged horses in the Castle swept the 
room. She is the Volaran Exotique. She is the Protector of the Flight. She will 
teach all what it means to fly with us.
Luthan’s well-formed lips lifted in a slight smile. “The Singer agrees and has 
blessed this adoption.”
Calli shifted from foot to foot. That was quick. The Singer lived far to the 
south in an abbey. Had she sent instructions or was this an instance of one of 
her prophecies being fulfilled?
“Very well.” Luthan sent a glance around the circle. Then held the naked baby 
high, spotlighted by a shaft of bright sunlight. She tensed, then eased, lifted 
her face to the sunshine, waved her hands and kicked, gurgling. “I charge 
everyone in the circle to examine this child. If anyone knows her and objects to 
her adoption by Callista and Marrec Gardpont, may they speak now or be denied 
forever!”
Stomach clenched, Calli kept sweeping her gaze around the group. She saw Bastien 
flinch, surprise come to his eyes, frown—and she knew he was in contact with 
someone. Then his expression hardened. He cleared his throat.
Luthan, his brother, stared at him.
Bastien said, “I have had…have touched the mind of the woman who birthed the 
child. She has no objection. Now or ever.” His face turned grim.
Alexa scowled at him.
Luthan stiffened, cocked his head, as if he, too, listened to someone. “The sire 
of this child gives her up. Now and ever after.”
A murmur went around the group. Calli mostly sensed anger in the room, 
especially now the bright light showed the bruises on the infant—little dark 
ones from pinching fingers, the fading one on her cheek. But other emotions were 
resignation and sheer haughtiness. She didn’t know who radiated the last and 
felt spellbound in the ritual, so she couldn’t search.
“It’s done,” Luthan said harshly. “The previous ties to the child are cut.”
Now the baby was struggling, whimpering, stretching her arms out to Marrec. 
Calli’s heart squeezed. In the quick, efficient actions of a prime warrior, 
Luthan nicked a vein in the little girl’s arm and let a couple of droplets of 
blood fall into a silver goblet. Then he kissed the arm and she squealed 
surprise. The wound was healed…all her bruises healed.
“Nice,” Calli heard Marian mutter. “Must be the ritual…”
Calli swallowed and stepped forward with Marrec, holding out her right wrist 
over the edge of the altar as he held out his left.
With equal swiftness and barely any pain, Luthan had three drops of her blood 
mixed into the liquid in the cup. Marrec dripped two.
Rustling came and she saw everyone link hands. A low hum, almost below her 
hearing, filled the room, reverberated.
Two big red birds flew through the small dome at the top of the Temple and 
alighted on the altar. They took turns stirring the potion with their beaks. 
Calli blinked, but the golden sparkles rising from the cup remained.
A wet beak touched her arm—Tuckerinal—and healed the small cut. Sinafinal had 
done the same for Marrec. The birds flew from the altar to sit on Marian’s and 
Alexa’s shoulders.
Luthan handed the brew to Marrec. “Drink, three swallows.”
Nodding, Marrec did.
Calli felt bubbles slide through him, making him light-headed. His Song reached 
for hers, she let it settle into her. They weren’t quite as close as they’d been 
when their blood had run in each other’s veins, but she welcomed the feeling, 
and him.
“Pass the cup to Callista,” Luthan said.
Calli took the goblet from Marrec. Her fingers brushed his, they were warm and 
steady. She smiled at him and he smiled back.
“Three swallows,” said Luthan.
She tipped the cool silver cup against her mouth, swallowed. Not a mimosa this 
time, more like effervescent mint water. When she was done, she gave the goblet 
back to Luthan. Pure joy spread throughout her. She grinned at Marrec, reached 
for him as he slid his arm around her waist. They stood together. She didn’t 
think she’d ever felt Marrec so happy.
Luthan had set the baby down and she sat, black hair ruffled in all directions, 
holding her feet, watching…and listening. Slowly Luthan put the cup against her 
lips. She opened her mouth. He angled the cup. Her mouth formed a little “o,” 
her tongue came out, she smiled and opened wide. Her hands went around Luthan’s 
and she sipped once.
Marrec trembled, Calli, feeling dizzier, held on tighter to him. The baby’s 
Song—mostly cheerful but with a lower tone of darkness—rippled through her, 
through them.
With blurred vision, she saw the little girl rock onto her back, wriggle around 
until she was sideways and stared at them with big serious eyes. She sucked on 
her fist.
Luthan propped her up in his arm, brought the cup to her mouth again. She made a 
face, but opened her lips. He poured a small amount into her mouth. She hummed. 
Grinned.
Love swirled from Calli to Marrec, to the child. Love. Yearning. Determination 
to nurture, to protect.
Marrec matched, exceeded, every emotion.
The little girl slithered out of Luthan’s grasp, rolled onto her hands and 
knees, headed for them. Luthan caught her as she fell. Marrec and Calli jumped 
closer.
“One more time,” Luthan said, putting the cup against the toddler’s mouth.
She slurped loudly.
Marrec and Calli laughed. The Songs, the auras, of all three of them flared, 
merged.
The child sat, held out her arms.
They swooped on her together. Marrec held her to his chest with one arm, Calli 
sandwiched her between them.
“It is done,” Luthan intoned. “The child is of the mind and heart and soul of 
Marrec and Callista Gardpont.”
Music rose to the top of the room, a Song that Calli had never heard before but 
that spoke of love and belonging and spoke of the secrets of her heart.
Marrec kissed the top of the baby’s head, pressed a kiss on Calli’s lips. “We’ll 
call her Diaminta,” he said. “It was my grandmother’s name. It means ‘bright 
finch.’ And we will teach her to Sing.” His voice was husky, unsteady.
Calli twined her fingers with his. “We already are.”
 
Calli immediately added a class in Lladranan child care, and began learning 
teaching Songs. Her voice was good but thin and she’d never trained it before. 
She and Marrec were always there in the morning to supervise the new nanny as 
she dressed Diaminta, and they took their breakfast together as a small family. 
It was the best part of the day for Calli. She spent an hour a day in the 
afternoon—between training her horses and giving classes on volaran 
partnership—sitting in the room while Marrec played with Diaminta. And every day 
he withdrew to sit behind Calli as she rolled a ball to Diaminta. Most of the 
time the little girl ignored her, and Calli would be forced to Sing the ball 
back into her hands, and roll it again. But the intimate Song weaving between 
them, making them into a family, strengthened.
She cherished every moment that went without an alarm—a full six days—before the 
Klaxon sounded again, jolting fear into her, destroying her peace in an instant.
25 
T he sun was setting as they banished the orbs of Distance Magic. Calli hoped 
this would be quick. She wasn’t nearly as good in night battles. At least in 
practice.
Marrec smiled reassuringly and unsheathed his sword. They descended through a 
wisp of icy cloud, weapons raised, ready to fight, Marrec in the lead with Alexa 
and Thealia, followed by another wave of Chevaliers, Calli and the other Shields 
dropping back. Then Marrec jerked straight, wavered in the saddle. Calli had 
already flung a Shield around him, couldn’t understand what was going wrong—she 
linked with him and felt his every nerve ending fire with pain. What was 
happening? She swept a glance around, saw nothing threatening him. He pulled up. 
Dark Lance whinnied with fear. Marrec saw nothing, his emotions were in a 
turmoil. Nausea engulfed him and he leaned over to vomit.
Others dodged his spray and cursed him.
He slumped over Dark Lance, who faltered in flight, tipping from one side to 
another.
Swish! A slayer’s spine missed Calli by inches. She strengthened her own Shield, 
found herself flying low into the middle of battle, a render leaping high at her 
with gleaming razor claws.
Thunder tucked up his legs, shot up and away in the nick of time. Calli kept his 
emotions cool, his mind steady, free of panic. Then she met Dark Lance’s fearful 
Song with her own, drew him away from panic, from terror of monsters killing 
him. She merged with Marrec and felt his fright, his horror, his despair, 
cycling, cycling. Thunder’s body rippled beneath her. She snapped her mind away, 
pulled her emotions from him. Kept control of her own feelings, and Thunder’s.
There weren’t many beasts—perhaps twenty—and the fight was quick. It took a few 
minutes to defeat them.
It took an eternity while Calli steadied Dark Lance and strove to reach Marrec, 
to make sense of the emotions racking him.
Thealia’s usual shout of triumph rose through the air. She held her malachite 
baton aloft. “Victory! Return to the Castle.”
One more tremor seized Marrec and he wheeled Dark Lance westward, to the sea. 
The other fighters flung bubbles of Distance Magic around themselves and headed 
southeast. Calli flew after Marrec. Her husband was hurting.
He didn’t fly to the Castle, didn’t fly toward home. Calli sent a mental demand 
to Alexa for her and Bastien to ensure Diaminta’s well-being that night.
Sleepover! Alexa had replied, making Calli smile, knowing her child was in good 
hands.
A half hour passed before Marrec shook off his blinding emotions. He came to 
himself all at once, sat up straight in the saddle, sheathed his sword. He 
brushed her mind with his own, cool and logical as usual. Calli released the 
soft hold she had on Dark Lance.
Mouth grim, Marrec turned the winged horse back to where the battle had been. No 
one from the Castle had fallen, and the slain horrors still lay as heaps on the 
ground, being picked over by scavengers. Marrec angled slightly to the northeast 
to an area about a hundred yards from the battle.
Finally, they set down in the long evening shadows. Dark Lance dropped his head, 
his sides bellowed, his coat was beaded with sweat. Marrec swayed in the saddle, 
eyes closed, body stiff.
Calli dismounted, Sang a short, soothing tune and the tack removed itself from 
the winged horses, settled to the long grass growing in a large, lush square. 
The sun flung one last bright ray into the sky, then vanished. She walked to her 
Pairling in night. Stood beside Dark Lance and put her hand on Marrec’s thigh. 
“What’s wrong?”
He jerked his chin at a half wall covered in ivy. “I never wanted to remember, 
but since this afternoon, I can’t forget. My…” His voice was hoarse, he licked 
his lips, turned his head to look down at her. “This land, this place was my old 
home.”
She stilled, let her mind and heart reach out to him, experienced the flow of 
images. No pleasant ones this time, the battle had ensured that. The renders and 
the slayers of that day superimposed upon past images, the sounds of battle 
leached away until no slide of sword against claws was heard, no shouts of human 
triumph. Instead there was the ripping sounds of slaughtered humans, the screams 
of dying people. She laid her head in his lap, circled his lean waist with her 
arms. “Come away, we’ll fly home.”
“No. That’s cowardly.”
He lifted a hand as if it were heavy, set it on her head. More memories…colorful 
ones of blood and destruction—fabric, furniture, homes, people—flooded her. She 
bit her lip to keep her own cry of horror from escaping. “To…to the Castle then. 
We can bathe. Cuddle Diaminta.”
Marrec flinched and she knew she’d made a mistake. He was too much in the past, 
with his parents, his brothers as children, to be reminded of another young 
one—so vulnerable to hurt and death.
But all he said was, “No. I must face the memories sometime.”
The sky had lit with a nearly full moon. His features seemed sharper limned with 
silver, his face expressionless. His eyes glittered and Calli couldn’t tell if 
it was with anger or grief. He’d shut his emotions away. He swung his opposite 
leg over Dark Lance’s back and Calli retreated a few steps. When he was on the 
ground, he stroked his volaran’s neck. “Good boy.”
Dark Lance blew out a breath.
Marrec straightened his shoulders, walked slowly to the slightly curving wall 
before them. “This was the Temple. The only building made of stone.” He reached 
out to touch it, then withdrew his hand. His neck tilted back as he looked at 
the stars. “Even the sky reminds me now. I know these patterns. Mountain Moon, 
soon to be End of Summer Feast Day.” Now he rolled his shoulders. The burden of 
memory was hard for him—hard to carry, hard to speak of. Calli kept quiet.
“I think…I think I would have left Gardpont. Gone south to some town.” His lips 
twitched up in a parody of a smile, set again into a line. “I was 
restless…then.”
She’d never met a man so entrenched in home, now. And now she knew why.
Their bootsteps made no sound as they walked on the verdant ground. Marrec 
circled around the temple, scuffed a foot and revealed a threshold. He turned 
and situated himself. “Nothing left of our wooden homes. The two shops. My 
father was a cobbler.” He lifted his boot and stared at the sole. “He did work 
equal to this, though this leather was far beyond his means.”
“He was an excellent artisan, then,” Calli said stiltedly. She had to think hard 
for words, and the fancy ones were the only ones that came. God, how was she 
going to help her man? Especially when his memories flickered like broken film 
in front of her eyes—a few frames of the round temple—covered with roses in the 
summer, stark with snow in the winter. The area in front of it had been wide and 
dusty, a gathering place—then had been piled with half-seen mangled bodies when 
the child Marrec stumbled from devastation to devastation after the monsters had 
left. His eyes had been puffy with tears, his throat raw with the mewling grunts 
that were the only sound he could make.
Her arm jingled with chain mail as she put it around his waist. They both 
stopped for a moment, her thought matching his. The townspeople had no armor, 
few weapons. And now both he and she were battling the horrors. The killing had 
never ended for him.
Yet.
His head lifted, his nostrils flaring, and Calli herself could smell the rich 
land, the forgotten grain and vegetables and flowers gone wild. The stench of 
battle a few hours ago. All mixed up with the night wind carrying chill from the 
mountains. He shuddered and a snippet of his memory—of tying a rag around his 
face at the hideous scent of death as he went from door to door looking for 
survivors like him, finding no one. Seeing even the youngest torn…she whimpered. 
Couldn’t help herself.
He didn’t notice, but kept walking…down a street that was hard-packed dirt in 
his recollection, until they were about three hundred feet from the temple. He 
angled to the right, flung out an arm. “There. There was my home.”
Nothing marked it.
He walked in, ducking as if the lintel was now too low for his adult height.
She stopped, then saw as he had last seen. His mother with a slayer’s spine in 
her eye, his father raked open, insides gleaming through five deep slashes, 
staring at the ceiling, his two dead brothers…Calli turned aside, bent double, 
vomited. Was brought back to herself with his low groan, saw him fold to his 
knees, his back arch and a yell of anguish rip from him. She grabbed a big leaf 
and wiped her mouth, stumbled to him and fell to her own knees, grabbed him and 
held on as he once again screamed his throat raw.
Like him, she endured the memories.
Unlike him, she wept.
Finally they were too exhausted to grieve. Marrec held her close. “I have lived 
this, now faced this. It is…crippling. It is nothing I want inside me, to harm 
you or our children or myself.” They toppled sideways to the cool earth, soft 
with fragrant grasses. “I can’t remember! Not ever again.”
Sweet darkness pinpointed with the light of stars enveloped them, then blackness 
rolled over them as if a heavy cloak comforted them, hid them. The cloak turned 
to fog in her mind, penetrating her, finding the memories she’d just shared with 
Marrec. Images disintegrated into nothingness. Calli hugged him tightly, knowing 
the same thing happened to him. He gave the memories up willingly to the planet 
of Amee, who absorbed them like the fallen dead.
 
When they reached the Castle early the next morning, Alexa and Bastien awaited 
them, Diaminta in Bastien’s arms, her fingers twined in his black-and-white 
hair. Their squires took the flying steeds and led them with much praise back to 
the stables.
Diaminta stretched her hands out to Marrec. “Pa. Pa. Pa.”
He took her, held her close. Calli came near and the little girl turned her head 
away, but watched her from the corner of her eyes. Calli kissed her soft golden 
cheek. Diaminta snuggled closer to Marrec.
“She hardly looked at me—Auntie Alexa—at all,” Alexa grumbled. “Didn’t even play 
with me. She likes the feycoocus, though.”
“Fin. Fin. Fin!”
“I guess so,” Calli said.
Marrec sniffed at Diaminta. “Smells like you need a change.”
Bastien closed his eyes. “Again?” He opened his eyelids and cocked his head. “I 
think one of the new volarans that flew in last week is calling me.” He took off 
at a trot toward an arena.
“I’ll take her up to our rooms and meet you for breakfast in the dining hall.” 
Marrec smiled at Calli easily, yet the lines around his eyes seemed a little 
deeper, the silver in his hair a little wider.
“Sure,” she said. “I want to check in on my horses.” She and Alexa strolled 
toward the horse pens.
Alexa said nothing until Marrec was out of earshot. “Lady Hallard knows Marrec’s 
past. She told us yesterday’s battle took place where Gardpont village was 
destroyed.”
A shadow seemed to cross the sun, dimming the light. Calli rubbed her arms. “I 
don’t recall. Not much. Just that Marrec lived through the massacre again that 
day, and I did, too.”
Alexa shuddered. “Poor little boy.”
“Yeah.” Calli stretched, settling into the fact that she’d always be missing 
some memories. “I do recollect that what he saw was enough to cripple a person 
emotionally for the rest of his life.” Like a wife abandoning a man and their 
daughter and a ranch, leaving the little girl in a locked room so she wouldn’t 
wander. “And Marrec didn’t want that,” Calli continued softly. “He wants to be 
as whole as possible for us—and for himself. He let the land take the memories 
away. I did, too, I guess, since nothing vivid comes to mind, and I recall that 
there were…vivid…images.” She swallowed, strode faster to the horse pen and held 
out a hand to welcome her horses. Solid friends that she knew. “I didn’t know 
Amee could do that.”
“I didn’t, either.” Alexa stroked a horse nose shoved in her hand. “Relinquished 
memories. Huh.” She frowned. “That’s stronger than I would be. I’d never let 
such memories go, and maybe my heart would shrivel. And as my beloved Bastien 
would say, ‘Not much comes out of a shriveled heart.’” She smiled. “I can just 
hear him saying it.”
She looked around, but Bastien was nowhere in sight. Her gaze went back to 
Marrec. “He’s had a tough enough life as it is.” Shrugging, she gave a half 
smile. “He was an orphan here. I was an orphan in Colorado. I listened when they 
talked of him.”
“You didn’t put it in your Lorebook of Exotiques.”
Alexa lifted her nose. “Of course not. I think those books should end with the 
Snap.”
A little chill coated Calli’s stomach. “I don’t want the Snap.”
“I can’t see it taking you,” Alexa agreed. She grinned, nudged Calli in the 
ribs. “Still got your task, and your training to do, Volaran Exotique.”
“Speaking of which, I think it may be time for another lesson.”
“I’m doing well. I ride my own volaran in practice now! I do miss Bastien behind 
me when we fight, but am glad I’m off horses on the battlefield.”
“And so you should be. A battlefield is no place for horses.” She tangled her 
fingers in the mare’s stiff mane. No one would know, now, that this beautiful 
animal had been abused, and she sure wouldn’t ever let anyone ride her into 
battle.
Alexa said, “It’s no place for anyone. Your man, there—” she nodded as Marrec 
and Diaminta disappeared around the edge of the stables, Diaminta babbling and 
waving her arms “—he’s filled out. Not quite so lean as he was. Finally getting 
enough food, I’d say. Your coming has been the best thing that’s ever happened 
to him.”
Tears prickled behind Calli’s eyelids. “Thank you.”
Alexa’s smile was gentle. “I’ve noticed that you have a great deal of patience. 
You had to in order to get me flying on a volaran, to work with others and the 
volarans themselves. Your daughter will love you, just wait and see.”
Calli hugged her. “Thanks. But compliments won’t get you out of a lesson.”
 
That afternoon when Calli and Marrec were playing with Diaminta, the siren 
screeched. Calli heard the new additional bell mixed in the alarm that was 
added. Retrousse. The Dark was sending monsters to an old battlefield. She 
listened hard, heard the modality of notes that indicated the place. The same as 
the day before. Gardpont. Her shoulders tensed. Diaminta flung herself at Marrec 
and held on hard. “Pa. Pa. Pa.” She knew they left when the siren wailed.
His jaw grim, Marrec shook his head. “We’re off rotation until tomorrow.” A hint 
of relief showed in his eyes. Calli heard the shouts of Marshalls and 
Chevaliers, the jangle of armor, the swish of volaran wings as they rose to the 
sky.
She was relieved, too. No one had said anything, but she was sure she wasn’t the 
only one who thought that the call to arms the day before to Gardpont was part 
of the ongoing campaign to harm her. Remove or cripple or kill Marrec when 
battling inner and outer demons and she would die, too.
 
But the relief didn’t last long.
Every day after that, at varying times during the day, the siren sounded. 
Retrousse. And always to the same place, the battle plain that had once held the 
town of Gardpont. Additional alarms rang, too, along the northwestern border, 
near Gardpont.
Retrousse here, too, monsters being sent where greater battles had been fought, 
in larger numbers.
Marrec grew strained, paler. The fact that his memories were gone should have 
been a boon. But every day he faced that his town had once been here, that the 
ground showed where his family had fallen, in the house that had disintegrated 
around them. That the village itself was gone forever.
Calli was sure that if they had had to fight time and again here with total 
recall of Marrec’s experiences, they’d have gone mad. And again she wondered if 
that was the point.
As it was, Marrec became more somber, withdrew from her emotionally. It was 
slight but noticeable to Calli and she yearned to help. So she insisted that 
when they could, they return home and worked on their estate—the volaran areas, 
the horse paddocks, the arenas. He threw himself into the reconstruction, 
becoming an ideal landowner.
After visiting the village on their land his Song was more cheerful, as if he 
carried the image of this village close to his heart to replace the one he’d 
lost.
He, too, learned—of ranching methods here in the north, of crops and trade. Of 
what the villagers needed from them, and how he and Calli could help the people 
who welcomed them. They certainly won enough money fighting to build whatever 
they pleased.
For three weeks as summer grew less hot, and fall drew near, battle-weary 
Marshalls and Chevaliers fought, flying in shifts from the Castle, returning. 
Those who survived. Attrition took a toll. The next oldest Marshall Pair died, 
as did the newest, and the Castle grieved. One or two Chevaliers, usually the 
lowest of the low—like Marrec had been—fell in every fight, and this haunted the 
man.
The loss of every volaran haunted Calli. Some would perish with their fliers, if 
they’d been good partners. Some had broken wings and bones and minds that 
couldn’t be easily mended and flew to the sanctuary that Bastien offered—and 
land she’d set aside for them on her and Marrec’s new ranch, too.
Pascal and Marwey earned their batons, but Seeva tried and failed to win her 
reins.
Battle debriefings grew shorter, not much to mull over than what had been said 
before. One afternoon the fighters of the morning sat in the grand entry hall of 
Horseshoe Hall. Once again most of the force had had to turn out because they’d 
fought on an ancient battlefield in the northeast where a mass of horrors had 
invaded.
An idea that had been floating around in the back of Calli’s brain bloomed. From 
the corner of her eye, she watched Marrec, with his usual serious expression. He 
didn’t like these meetings, no matter how short. He’d much rather be doing his 
duty, or following his passion—managing the estate. With his natural business 
savvy and her talent for teaching and training, they’d be wealthy if they ever 
got a chance to truly settle down.
She coughed to attract attention, then stood. “We’re always flying to the same 
area.”
Swordmarshall Thealia raised her eyebrows but said nothing about Calli stating 
the obvious.
“I know the Distance Magic isn’t a great energy-sapping spell, but it does bleed 
everyone of Power. We haven’t battled the Dark anywhere except the northeast in 
a month—”
Marian spoke, “I think it’s because the Dark doesn’t have a human master to 
control the horrors. To order them and move them to wherever they were kept to 
invade. Instead the Dark must send them itself. I think retrousse battles are 
easier for the Dark.” Marian stood, too. She and Jaquar, and a couple of other 
Circlets, had come and gone through the deadly weeks.
“If you say so,” Calli said. She sucked in a breath. “Why don’t we…uh…make an 
encampment a little ways south of the general area where we always fly. I’ve 
read that this was done before.” She licked her lips, not looking at Marrec, who 
had stiffened from a slouch beside her. “If even one life is saved because our 
fighters have more energy, it would be worth it.”
People talked over each other, discussing, as she sat down. Marrec continued not 
to look at her. He didn’t say a word. After Thealia called in household 
experts—the Castle Head of Staff and Seeva—appointing them as liaisons to the 
Lord who held land near where’d they’d been fighting, she adjourned the meeting.
The Marshalls and Chevaliers left the hall with new purpose. Simply introducing 
another option had lifted morale.
Calli felt Marrec’s simmering anger at her. He headed toward their suite, but 
instead of going to the rooms, he took the stairway to the Castle walls. She 
accompanied him, and a bit of recollection from their bloodbonding came to mind. 
When Marrec was very upset he walked the walls.
His previous room had been tiny, about twelve-by-twelve feet and no good for 
pacing. He liked the space without high walls, and the perspective of looking 
out on the land he fought for, and the fact that he could walk. He usually paced 
the length of the wall between Horseshoe Hall and the keep and back. He didn’t 
fly on Dark Lance, as she would have Thunder, because he’d never known when they 
would fight again and he would not endanger his volaran by tiring him.
With that knowledge, she learned that he hadn’t walked the walls since they had 
bonded. He’d never been perturbed enough. Not liking his mood, but not wanting 
to leave him, Calli accompanied him. The ramparts were wide enough for three 
abreast.
They’d strode to the keep wall next to Alexa’s tower and halfway back before he 
spoke.
“A baby should not be kept in an armed encampment.”
She swallowed hard. “I know.” She kept her eyes level with his. “Sometimes a 
greater need must be served at the cost of personal desires.” She hardly 
believed she was saying this. Always, always, she’d done whatever needed to be 
done with the single goal of making her home better.
His expression set. He was such a quiet man, such a controlled one, it took real 
observation to know what he felt…or a bond. She put her hand on his forearm and 
he jerked it away. When he spoke, his tone was soft and mild, more evidence of 
his control and completely opposite what she knew he really felt. “Our primary 
goal has been to make a home for our child—and children to come. We have been in 
accord, and focused on that. It should remain our single purpose.”
Oh, this was going to be rough. This was going to be big.
26 
I nhaling deeply, Calli let her breath out on a rough whoosh, then said, “The 
best way to ensure our children’s future is to defeat the Dark. I want this 
over. Over before our children are of age to become Chevaliers or Marshalls. 
Over before Diaminta wants to fight.”
“You plan on staying at the encampment?”
“I…it depends.”
He glanced at her. “This will take zhiv, too. Tents for y—us, for our squires. 
Camping equipment.”
She wanted to apologize but wouldn’t. Instead she lifted her chin. “This will 
save us energy, too.”
He laughed harshly. “It will add tension, being away from our child.” Turning, 
he looked out at the rolling landscape to the west of the Castle, but Calli 
didn’t think he saw it. She stepped closer, not quite brushing against him.
“I don’t want to keep Diaminta here at the Castle when everyone else is gone,” 
he said.
“I’m sure we’ll be on rotation in the camp, too—”
“Doesn’t matter.” His hands flexed. “Our estate is close enough for us to go 
home between rotations.”
Calli licked her lips. “If we will be traveling between our estate and the camp, 
it will defeat the purpose of being less tired.”
He seared her with a look. “But it will keep our child safe. Will you not travel 
back and forth with me?”
She couldn’t answer.
His expression hardened. “I see. You leave your child.”
“I am not abandoning my daughter!” she cried. Far too out of control. She 
breathed deeply. Looking at Marrec from behind a film of tears, she said, “I 
must be there. People depend upon me, will expect me to be there all the time. I 
am the Chevalier Exotique. I fight. That’s my definition.”
Another big breath. “I can’t split my concentration between here and my home, 
like you do. I’m not so good a fighter that I can just turn off battle scenes in 
my head. I don’t want to get us killed.”
He sat next to her and put his arm around her, but he was still stiff with his 
own anger. “You are strong enough to do whatever you must. That means putting 
your child first.”
“She doesn’t even want me!” Another cry that tore from her heart. She’d loved 
her mother, wanted her. She wasn’t abandoning her daughter for another man, a 
richer lifestyle. Gulping, she dried her eyes and wiped her nose. “I know I have 
to be there for her to learn to love. But I’ll come home once a week or so. Why 
is that not enough?”
“Because she needs you more often. You owe us as much attention as the 
Chevaliers and Marshalls. Fall is coming on, and winter. Our estate must be 
readied for it. There’s much to do.”
She really looked at him, the man. He carried himself differently—like a man who 
is certain of his future, a man of property and responsibility. Not quite the 
noble…yet.
“I will be spending more time at our home,” he said.
“I understand, and that’s…that’s the way it should be.” Again she wanted to 
touch him. Again she didn’t. It was hard reaching for someone and being 
rejected.
 
By the end of the week, arrangements had been made for a cantonment to the 
north. The distance between the Castle and the encampment seemed less than the 
emotional gulf between herself and Marrec. And there was no magical spell to 
breach it.
They talked little, at each other more than with each other. Marrec had done his 
duty as a Chevalier, flying to battle, buying a two-room tent and bivouac 
equipment. They flew to the place with the last wave of Marshalls and Chevaliers 
one evening, arriving to see the tent city still going up later than scheduled. 
Marrec would ensure their camp quarters were acceptable, then fly back to the 
Castle in the morning and transfer Diaminta and their household goods to their 
home. He’d stay on their estate until the morning of their every-third-day 
shift.
Calli would stay behind, learning, training, meeting. She loathed it, but felt 
that was her duty. Unable to stay with Marrec as he worked with his squires, she 
walked the perimeter of the large camp, finally stopping on a low ridge to the 
northwest of the rising city, still pondering her decisions. Like it or not, she 
felt she owed the volarans, the Exotiques, the Chevaliers for giving her their 
trust.
She stood on the hill for a while, and when she looked down, she blinked. Though 
Calli hadn’t known what to expect, the colorful tents surprised her. The 
Lladranan forces may not have lived in the field for some time, but they knew 
what they were doing. Seeva and Marwey had been the primary designers of the 
city.
The camp had been set up, with tents in angled lines—of a star, a pentagram. At 
the end of the points were fires—common areas. The walkways were along the 
points, down to a center pentagon where large canvas pavilions stood. Between 
the arms and upper point were volaran areas. Interesting.
With that thought, she looked for Marian and Jaquar’s pavilion, with a flag 
showing a whirlwind casting off lightning bolts. Their tent marked the entrance 
to the southeastern point, slightly outside the cluster of the Marshalls’ 
pavilions in the middle of the pentagon.
In the exact center of everything was the largest pavilion of several rooms. It 
shone as if it were truly made of malachite—Thealia Germaine’s and her Shield’s 
tent. It might even have an inside fire, though that sounded scary to Calli. She 
supposed Power would handle any fire.
The smallest pup tents, standard issue for the lowest of Chevaliers, were near 
the end of the points. The size got larger as they approached the 
middle…generally. Calli noticed a big tent ruining the symmetry near the top of 
the northern point. Since a flag—with red trident, a Maserati trident—waved, she 
figured it was Koz’s and snorted.
Narrowing her eyes, she could see the black and silver of her new tent, with a 
flag sporting a flying volaran, on the opening to the east point. Their pavilion 
had two rooms. One for sleeping and one for gathering. She glanced at the 
evening sky and sniffed the air. No sign of rain, and that was good.
Seeva called up to her. “Calli, I have someone I want you to meet!” She and her 
companion, a middle-aged man only a little overweight, climbed the hill. Calli 
cursed inwardly, slapped a smile on her face. She’d seen the guy in passing, the 
owner of this land, a noble. “Sleaze” alarm bells went off inside her.
Calli wasn’t used to slick opportunists in Lladrana. She’d run across the 
revulsion reaction, of course, had been condescended to by the rich, arrogant 
and haughty, but hadn’t met anyone where she’d wanted to shower after being in 
their presence. Probably because the folk she associated with were 
dedicated—obsessed—with defeating the invading Dark. Landowners that didn’t 
fight with the Marshalls and Chevaliers she didn’t meet.
By the time they’d arrived, Calli had set her personal Shields high and wrapped 
her Song tight. Seeva had linked arms with the man, her attitude one of pleasure 
with a hint of seduction. “Calli Gardpont, may I present Threo Veenlit, the lord 
of this land. He’s generously offering it for our encampment.”
Not that generously. Calli herself had handed over three prime dreeth claws, and 
both Lady Hallard and Swordmarshall Thealia had exited the “negotiations” with 
pinched mouths.
Calli inclined her torso. Seeva frowned at her and Calli reluctantly offered her 
hand.
“Ah, another Exotique.” Lord Veenlit took her fingers in his soft, damp hand, 
tried a mindprobe and, when that didn’t work, slithered his own Song along hers 
to read. Natural enough, Calli supposed, after all they were on his land, but it 
felt rude.
Even with a physical connection, she heard little of his Song—some brassy notes 
that actually sounded like a donkey braying. She smiled genuinely.
His heavy features returned the smile. “Quite, quite unusual coloring. 
Stunning,” he said, eyelids lowered but still showing a gleam of sexual 
calculation.
Withdrawing her hand, Calli said. “I thank you again.”
“Not at all, not at all.” He waved her words away. “I met your husband, a very 
excellent Chevalier.”
“Yes, he is.”
Veenlit chuckled. “He was looking for Lord Faucon Creusse, but I don’t think 
that one has arrived yet.”
Veenlit would make it his business to know when one of the wealthiest Lords of 
Lladrana arrived. “I still don’t see Creusse’s pavilion.” His eyes glittered 
avid satisfaction as he surveyed the small village below. Then he scowled. 
“What’s that?”
“Exotique Circlet Marian Harasta Dumont’s pavilion,” Calli said.
“I authorized no Circlets on my land!”
Sounded as if Marian would have to do her work of integrating Circlets with 
nobles again.
Well, surely there was one thing the man respected. “I’m sure you can negotiate 
with the Circlets for rent,” Calli said.
He jerked straight as if he were a puppet on a string, rubbed his hands. “Quite 
true, quite true.” Absentmindedly he bowed to Calli, his gaze still on Marian 
and Jaquar’s tent. “Honored,” he said. “You will see me and my chief Chevalier, 
Raoul Lebeau, in camp.” He pointed to a gaudy pavilion of red and yellow just 
inside the entrance to the northern star point. His sigil was a dagger.
“You’re going to stay here?”
He nodded. “My manor is quite a ways from here, alas.” Making a quick bow, he 
said, “Until later,” then descended the hill.
Seeva started after him, but Calli stopped her with a hand to her arm. “Seeva, 
how could you associate with him? He’s greedy, only after what he can get.”
The younger woman lifted her chin. “At least he’s honest about that. He’s not 
being a savior. He sees his Chevaliers as people, not counters on a game board, 
not expendable. And for me, that’s refreshing.”
The man was sleazy. Calli didn’t know “sleazy,” in Lladranan.
But Seeva was on a roll. “And he listens to me. That’s damn refreshing, too.”
“You’re Head of Staff of Horseshoe Hall.”
Her face fell into dissatisfied lines. “When I wasn’t shaping up to be an 
extraordinary Chevalier and disappointing my mother, I turned to what I did 
better, which was managing the household.” She grimaced again. “Not even the 
whole estate, like you and Marrec do, just the household. Then there was an 
opening in Horseshoe Hall and Mother brought me in over everyone else.” Her arms 
crossed. “Which made a lot of people dislike me, and my job a hundred times 
worse. I haven’t even won my reins, I may never have it in me to win my reins. 
I’ve been a Chevalier in name only. People hate me.”
Calli had seen no evidence of that—but she’d been living in a little sheltered 
world of her own.
Seeva sniffed, met Calli’s gaze. “I have never been able to do exactly what I 
want.”
Well, who had? Calli fumbled for words. “And how does being with Lord Veenlit 
change that?”
Lip curling, Seeva said, “My skills have brought me here, and he can give me 
what I want.”
“Which is?”
“A home of my own, if I work it right.” Her laugh was bitter. “One thing that 
Mother has given me—prominence in the noble circles. I may even be able to get 
some sort of dowry like my sisters.”
“Seeva!” Veenlit called, hovering outside the Circlets’ tent. Obviously he 
wanted her to smooth any transaction.
She turned on her heel and went toward him, leaving Calli in the dying daylight.
A tremor of fear shivered through Calli at the thought that this could be 
Diaminta in twenty years as she herself focused on the continuing fight for 
Lladrana, ignoring her daughter. Her fingers clenched. No, that would not 
happen. She would not let that happen.
Not then and not now. Her small progress with Diaminta was disenheartening, but 
she’d continue. Slow and easy. She would not physically abandon her daughter as 
her own mother had her. She would not emotionally abandon her daughter as her 
father had her.
There had to come a time when she believed her duty to the volarans and 
Chevaliers was done—except for training. Then she’d put her family first. And 
why did that echo so hollowly?
By the time she walked down the hill, Veenlit was exiting the Circlets’ 
pavilion, a small leather bag firmly in his grasp. Seeva murmured goodbyes, then 
both of them angled toward Calli. She stifled a sigh. When they met, another man 
joined them, wearing red and yellow. Calli blinked and blinked again at him. His 
was the most exquisite male face she’d seen on Lladrana, including Luthan 
Vauxveau and Faucon Creusse, both handsome men.
“Raoul Lebeau,” Lord Veenlit said, smiling.
The Chevalier bowed gracefully before Calli. “Welcome to my Lord’s lands, Bella 
Dama,” he said in a well-modulated voice.
She could do nothing but let him brush a kiss on her fingers, though she was 
getting bad vibes from him, too.
“Raoul, we part ways here. Walk the Lady Exotique to her pavilion.”
“My pleasure.”
Calli said good-night to Seeva and Veenlit, ignoring the fact that he and Seeva 
went into his tent together, and said nothing when Raoul tried to amuse with his 
comments on others. The Chevalier wasn’t snide or malicious, and might well have 
made her smile if she’d been in a better mood. She managed a polite dismissal 
when they reached her tent, and stepped back before he could do anything more.
Lifting the flap, she entered and stopped when she saw a huge, foot-long hamster 
sitting on her weapons chest. She cleared her throat. Salutations, Tuckerinal.
“Salutations, Calli,” he squeaked in perfect Lladranan.
“Why are you here?”
He smiled and it warmed her heart. “To sing you to sleep.”
She stared at him. “Sing me to sleep?”
“Ayes.”
“Oh-kay.” She went into the bedroom and undressed. When she turned down the 
covers of the mattress and slipped onto the bed, feeling all the aches of her 
body as she settled, he opened his mouth. “Shenandoah” rolled out, played by a 
full orchestra, that melded into a hauntingly beautiful tune that had tears 
stinging her eyes. She was so far from ho—Earth, caught in an alien land.
Thunder’s mind touched hers, content and supportive, and she sensed more 
volarans, too. She swallowed. She loved the volarans. Loved Lladrana.
Loved Marrec and her child. Perhaps she should abandon the camp and go home—to 
her true home, here in the Lladranan mountains.
It is not yet time for you to only teach and train, Tuckerinal said, even as his 
rounded mouth poured out a slow country waltz. She turned her head and saw his 
big, protuberant eyes gleaming, yet they held wisdom and sadness. Not yet time.
Not yet time, whispered Thunder in her mind.
Not yet time, said Sinafinal.
Her heart ached, and sleep claimed her.
Marrec came to her. He slipped in, his skin cool with night, and she turned to 
him and warmed him.
His steady, caressing touch on her, stroking her to arousal, brought futile 
tears. She touched him, too, telling him with her fingers, with the rising notes 
of her personal Song that melded with his, that she loved him, though she 
couldn’t say the words. The deep richness of their Song echoed long in her mind 
after he’d fallen asleep in her arms.
 
The next morning when the tent filled with the tension of their disagreement and 
low, angry voices, it was as if the tender night had never been.
“This new tent is another expense.” He locked his hands behind his back.
She started to apologize, stopped. Just for a moment he reminded her of her 
father. “We are needed here.”
“Alexa is needed here. She’s a fighter first and foremost, that’s why she was 
Summoned.”
She turned to him, wanted to touch him, wanted the affection that had flowed 
between them. God help her, she’d become addicted to that, and now it was gone. 
“It’s not for long, just until we find out why the horrors are targeting this 
area.”
“To draw us in—you and me—to kill us.”
“We don’t know that for sure.”
He shrugged. “Don’t you think I’ve noticed the miasma that has surrounded us at 
the Castle, on the battlefield? No open attacks, just…an evil pressure.”
“What?”
“You haven’t realized that?”
“I…no.” She was shaken and it came out as stiffness in her voice, an obvious 
accent. “I don’t always recognize nuances of Power.”
He took her hands, his eyes shadowed. “The Dark wants us here. I don’t like that 
we’ve accommodated it.”
She went cold—hands, lips, gut. “The Marshalls and Alexa and Marian asked us to 
come.”
“And we’re here. We can only hope we won’t leave our daughter an orphan.”
There was nothing she could say to that. The silence stretched, for the first 
time since they’d bonded, uncomfortable.
“If you insist that I come with you, I’ll forsake my duty.”
27 
H e dropped her hands, lifted a tent flap for a moment to watch the bustle of 
the camp. More than his face was inscrutable. She could barely hear his Song 
through the rush of her own blood.
“That’s your main fault, Calli. You want to please everyone.”
It was like a slap, she took a step back, couldn’t figure out what to say, 
settled on what might cause the deepest hurt but would be the deepest truth. “Do 
you regret bonding with me?”
Again his gaze met hers, hooded. “No.”
She wondered if that was because he’d received what he’d wanted all his life.
“Do you want me at our estate or not?”
“I always want you.”
And that might annoy him. But the Pairbond between them could not be broken. He 
could withdraw, she could step back in pain, but they were linked together.
He made a rough sound. “I see Marian and Jaquar are here. I wonder if they will 
take the field.”
“Jaquar has fought before.”
“But not the Exotique Circlet.”
“She battled the Dark in its nest.” Calli frowned. “And she fought when she came 
back—” Calli realized the points he was making.
“She completed her task and she returned after the Snap. You haven’t completed 
your task, whatever it might be, and this present endeavor may lead to our 
deaths before that is done. Will you stay on Earth when your Snap comes?”
A cry ripped from her. She stumbled toward him, put her arms around him, but he 
didn’t return her embrace. Still his heart beat faster, his Song enveloped her 
now she was against him.
“I am Pairbonded to you and bloodbonded to our daughter. I won’t return to 
Earth.” Any love she’d ever found was here.
His hand brushed her hair, just once. “You must know your priorities, Calli.”
“You. You and Diaminta.”
“So you say, but you don’t fly with me home today,” he said.
She hesitated.
His face hardened.
“No, I’m not flying home. Perhaps you’re right, I want to please people. I want 
people’s trust.” She wanted to be loved.
Because she needed to pace and carry on, she kept very still. She put her fist 
on her heart. “I feel that I must be here now, though I want to be with you more 
than I can say.”
There was one thing she could do. “Diaminta must be fully protected. I’d like to 
accept some new Chevaliers into our service, set them on rotation, too, here 
with u—me, and at home.”
He frowned. “Good idea.” Then he surveyed the field of tents one more time. 
“Four more would be best, and that will delay construction of the indoor arena 
until spring.”
Calli nodded. The indoor arena was her main dream as a trainer, but it was also 
the most costly outbuilding.
Without looking at her, he asked, “Will you fly as Shield to someone else during 
the times I am gone and battle is engaged?”
Shock flooded her and she knew he had the answer to his question through their 
link before she managed to answer. “No. Never.” I’m a lover, not a fighter.
He nodded. “What will you do?” His gaze had focused on the large training ring 
going up near their tent.
She cleared her voice. “In my Power lessons I have been crafting spellsongs to 
kill dreeths in battle, especially the little ones.”
A pulse of surprise came from him to her and he looked at her again, this time 
his face less expressionless, interest gleaming in his eyes. “Yes?”
“Yes.” She licked her lips. “It’s more Shield Power than fighting.”
Did his gaze soften a little? Was there pride in it? She hoped so. “Dreeths have 
focused on us the last three battles. And we’ve killed all three.” His eyebrows 
came down. “In different ways.”
“I know. I don’t get caught up in the fighting—lust—as you do. I’ve been 
experimenting.” Anything to keep deep panic from freezing her. “If…when…you must 
go and I must stay, I will train others.”
“Marrec!” The shout came from Koz. He peeked inside the tent. “I have the man 
here,” Koz elbowed Faucon, “who will answer some estate management questions for 
us.”
Marrec’s attention immediately veered from her, fastened on the men outside, on 
his priority of tending their estate. Calli couldn’t fault him for it.
“I’ll be right there,” he said, then whispered, “I’ll see you later.”
He was gone before she could reply.
 
An hour and a half later, she stood in a landing area and watched her husband 
fly away.
“Hey, pretty lady.” The words were Lladranan but lilted in an English accent. 
She turned to see Koz.
“Hey, Koz.”
He jerked his head toward the main camp. “Wanna beer?”
Sensing nothing but sympathetic companionship coming from him, she smiled and 
kept her mouth from trembling, sniffed back tears. “Sounds great.” She walked 
with him along an angle to his pavilion, realizing it was made of the best 
materials and had several rooms, was actually larger than her and Marrec’s tent.
A man sat on a stool outside the pavilion with a whetstone, sharpening a sword. 
He had a number of weapons beside him, including a long fancy dagger that seemed 
to glow. She blinked, tilted her head to try and hear what sort of Song emanated 
from it. Not Lladranan.
“Medieval Damascene,” he said. “I—uh—brought it with me. Marian didn’t know.” A 
flow of embarrassment came from Koz. Now that she’d spent more than a few 
minutes alone in his company, she realized she could sense his emotions easier 
than any true Lladranan’s.
Even Calli had heard of Damascus steel. “Wow,” she said.
“Yeah, I’m the envy of all.” His smile flashed as they entered his pavilion. “I 
was lucky enough to bring plenty of jewels and some gold with me from Earth. 
I’ve got a nice rich estate now.” He nodded to the man outside. “But only one 
Chevalier to fly under my banner.”
“Your Maserati banner,” she said.
He grinned. “Guilty.” A hint of wistfulness shadowed his eyes. “I could never 
drive on Earth.”
He’d had multiple sclerosis there, she knew, when he was Andrew. Here he had a 
healthy body. “Volarans are better than cars any day.”
Laughing, he said, “You got that right.” Then he went to a chest and hummed a 
couple of bars of “I Can’t Get No Satisfaction,” to release a lock, she 
realized. He held up a bottle of beer and she gasped, was pulled to the small 
chest.
“My last one.”
“Don’t waste—”
But she was too late, he’d snapped off the top. He offered the bottle to her. 
Just the scent of it took her back to dusty rodeo days. Man. She couldn’t 
refuse. She should. Couldn’t. Tipping the bottle, she let cool beer trickle into 
her mouth, coat her tongue. Oh, yeah! The taste was all Earth, and for that she 
closed her suddenly damp eyes and savored. But she only took a swallow, then 
handed the bottle back to him.
He was still grinning.
“I like the ale better, here, too,” she said.
He wiped the top of the bottle on his shirt, and guzzled, smacked his lips, then 
shrugged. “I do, too.”
They laughed together. Gesturing with the bottle, he pointed to fat pillows made 
of plush rugs on the floor. “Nice,” she said.
“I remember my Arabian Nights.” He struck a pose. “I think I’ve already started 
a trend. Faucon was in here, took one look and left to commission some.”
Calli sighed and sank onto one of the pillows. “Really nice.”
“Thanks.” He sat, too, stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankle. 
“I’ve got it lucky.”
“I don’t think so,” she said.
Once more he smiled, eyes crinkling. “Maybe not at first, but now, yeah.” He 
angled the bottle to her, then toward the encampment outside the door. “I wasn’t 
really Summoned, so I don’t have to worry about fulfilling any quest.”
The taste in her mouth turned bitter. She stood.
He did, too. “Don’t let all this stuff get you down, Calli. You’re doing great.”
She forced a smile. She didn’t think so.
“Really.” He turned around and swiped a water bladder. “Here. I set up a little 
brewery on my estate. Finest ale you’ll find on Lladrana.”
“Different people have different tastes.”
He cocked his head. “Very true. But by any standard, you, Calli Torcher 
Gardpont, have made the grade.”
Her smile felt strained. She didn’t think so. Her husband had left her, her 
daughter avoided her. All she’d wanted was love, and that still escaped her. 
“Thanks for the ale.”
With an inclination of his head, Koz opened the pavilion’s flap so she could 
leave. “You’re very welcome.”
As she walked back to her own three-room tent, she kept her smile in place and 
returned greetings, both human and volaran. Still, emptiness was a big hole in 
her chest. Their squires weren’t near her tent, though other guards were and she 
nodded to them and went inside to an equally empty place.
What the hell, she uncapped the bota and swigged. The ale was perfect.
Marrec would have thought so, too. But he wasn’t there to share the drink or 
conversation, stories of the day. Or love.
 
As Marrec flew toward home, he noticed he was…lonely. He kept peering through 
the Distance Magic bubble, looking for Calli. This was the first time they’d be 
apart for any appreciable time. They’d just developed their partnership…which 
seemed a little shaky right now. Because they disagreed.
He was right. He didn’t like leaving Diaminta more than a day and a night alone 
without her parents, and those damn nobles were keeping Calli, at least, tied 
down with their demands. He wasn’t used to being high status and he had little 
tolerance for their interminable meetings. If he had to fly to battle, they 
could direct him as they always had. He didn’t want to learn strategy.
He wanted to learn ranching. To make sure he was equal with Calli in that. She’d 
had a ranch on Exotique Terre, but she wouldn’t know Lladranan methods. He 
wanted to learn farming, how to ensure their estate produced enough to feed them 
and the people who lived on it. And it was best to do this before winter. But 
Calli’s sad Song…he shook his head. Someone had to take care of their child. He 
had to prepare for the future.
Now that he was sure he had a future. He was doing this for Calli, too. But Dark 
Lance did not speak to him all the way home, kept his equine thoughts 
distant—except for one time when the volaran wondered what was happening at the 
camp.
When Marrec landed and strode up to the door of his home, and his daughter held 
out her arms in welcome and said, “Pa. Pa. Pa,” he knew he’d made the only 
choice he could have. Even though her little face wrinkled and she looked 
around, searching for Calli. Who wasn’t with him.
 
That afternoon the alarms rang. Calli knew these bells now. A large retrousse 
rising in an area where they’d fought more than a half-dozen times over the last 
few weeks. She ran for her tent. Her squire and maid blocked the opening, arms 
crossed.
Her squire lifted an eyebrow. “You aren’t thinking of fighting, are you? Of 
being Shield to someone other than Marrec?”
It all came rushing back and hurt, hurt, hurt. Marrec wasn’t just somewhere else 
in the camp. He was gone.
She pushed her voice past her clogged throat. “No.”
Shouts came as volarans soared, flying to battle.
“No,” she repeated. She turned away from the tent. “Some new volarans flew in 
last night from Volaran Valley. I’ll go work with them, teach them the basics of 
partnering, determine what sort of person each would fit well with.”
She reached the large corral that was set aside for wild volarans—they always 
knew to land here rather than into other areas where the partnered volarans had 
formed their own herd. She blinked as she saw Lord Veenlit and his Chevalier, 
Raoul Lebeau, leaning on the fence. Veenlit pointed to a pretty buckskin mare.
“I thought you’d be fighting,” she said.
“Not our rotation.” Veenlit smiled.
He lied. The fact was that he didn’t intend to fight, seemed to think that 
renting space to the Marshalls and Chevaliers was his contribution to the effort 
to free Lladrana from the Dark. For a northern lord, he was offhand about 
protecting his lands, but this portion was miles away from his manor in a rich, 
secure mountain valley.
After she’d walked a few yards away from them along the fence, the volarans came 
over to her, pushing each other to greet her.
Hello, Volaran Exotique, the buckskin said.
Hello, Calli! said a bay stallion.
Hello, whispered the third, a black, smaller than the other two, ducking her 
head, then bringing it up to look at her with large, dark eyes. This one was a 
sweetheart, too gentle to fly to battle.
Salutations, winged ones, she said.
They liked that, and she took turns palming their lips, stroking their faces and 
necks. To Calli’s disgust, the two men sauntered up to her.
“You have a way with volarans,” Veenlit said, reaching out to stroke the 
buckskin’s nose. She backed away.
Calli lifted her eyebrows. “Probably why I’m called the Volaran Exotique.”
A spark of annoyance showed in his eyes before he suppressed it and smiled—too 
widely. “I could use a couple of fresh volarans.”
She played ignorant. “I thought if you wanted to increase your volaran herd all 
you had to do was Sing them from the wild.” Like any volaran would come to his 
call.
He shrugged heavy shoulders. “Hadn’t thought much about it until you all came 
camping. One of these…”
“These?” She widened her eyes as if in surprise. “But these have come to be 
trained as war volarans.” Then she smiled warmly. “Of course, I’ll work with you 
and them in the fighting patterns.” Now she lifted and dropped a shoulder. “I’m 
not on rotation to fight. We can begin immediately.” With a sweeping glance up 
and down them, she said, “I bet I could have you two in the thick of battle and 
slaughtering horrors within a week.”
They’d backed away from the corral. She followed. “So, I’ve never asked, do 
either of you speak telepathically to your volarans?” She hadn’t made time to 
visit with the local volarans, something she noted she’d have to do.
They both stared at her blankly. “What are you talking about?”
Letting surprise creep into her voice, Calli said, “We’ve found that about ten 
percent of the Marshalls and Chevaliers can mind-speak with volarans. We call 
their language Equine.”
Veenlit grunted. “Thought that was only crazy black-and-white Power, like that 
Bastien has.” His nostrils flared. “Castle matters. We don’t hold with that 
weird new stuff here.”
“Hmm,” Calli said. “As the volaran trainer, I’m not sure I want to send any of 
the winged steeds into battle with someone who isn’t strong in Equine. I don’t 
think I’ve seen either of you fly, either.”
“Volarans shouldn’t be just for battle. The beasts have other uses around a 
manor, too. You don’t know anything about how life is lived outside the Castle.”
Anger rose. “That’s pretty much right. All my experience has been in training 
volarans for partnering Marshalls and Chevaliers in battle and fighting the 
horrors. I haven’t seen much peace here.” Even now her husband was taking care 
of their estate and she was dealing with these sleazeballs who thought posturing 
was as important as fighting.
Turning her back on them, she went into the corral, smoothed a hand over the 
buckskin. The mare bent her neck around Calli in a volaran embrace, looked at 
her with big brown eyes. I will be an excellent battlemare. Her ears twitched 
nervously, but determination radiated from her.
I will find you the right partner. 
The bay pushed forward. I will be an excellent battle stallion.
Calli moved to him, ran her hand down his strong neck, tested the flavor of his 
Song. Yes. Fly to the Castle and speak to the Chevalier trainer there.
The black dipped her head. And me?
If you wish to stay with people— 
I do! Good food. Warm stables. She licked her lips, then sent a sideways glance. 
Strong stallions.
Calli laughed. Then wait for Bastien to return from battle. He would cherish you 
and welcome you on his estate.
I came for you.
The simple statement had Calli fighting back tears. So teary today. Too many raw 
emotions. Here was someone who wanted her. Just her. No demands.
Thunder trumpeted. I am here, too!
Keeping her face in the black mare’s fragrant neck, Calli said, This is no place 
for a gentle soul like yourself. I will take you with me when I next go to my 
manor.
With a nicker and a lift of the wings, the bay flew away to the Castle.
Both men had watched in narrow-eyed, cross-armed silence.
“As you say, I’m most concerned with fighting the Dark.” She frowned, honestly 
curious. “Tell me, Lord Veenlit, when was the last time you lost people to the 
Dark?”
Again his fake sad expression. “I lost a village last year. Terrible, terrible.”
His Song pulsed and she caught a strain of terrified notes and the fact that 
after he’d heard of the massacre, he’d reinforced the walls of his castle.
“The land will be very fertile after this is done,” he said.
He seemed to realize he’d shocked her and set his face in sorrowful lines. “I 
grieve for all the lives we’ve lost.”
Yeah, right.
 
That night, Marian visited Calli in her tent. Did the Circlet know she missed 
Marrec so much her bones ached?
Marian tilted her head as if listening to the Songs in the tent. “You are very 
bonded to Marrec. Perhaps too bonded.”
“You mean I’m holding on too tightly to him.”
“Yes, and your daughter.”
Calli had wondered about that, whether her need for Diaminta scared the little 
girl.
“Loosen up the reins.” Marian tilted her head. “You love the volarans, but you 
aren’t binding them so closely to you and don’t accept very tight bonds from 
them. Maybe you can do the same with your family.”
Calli’s smile was small and tight. “I’ve never had someone love me…or a child 
that could love me. I want it too badly.” In the shadows, she could say this.
Marian sighed. “One of those ‘easy to say, hard to do’ things.”
“Guess so.”
Her smile rueful, Marian said, “Then I wonder about bringing up one of the 
subjects I came to talk to you about—bloodbonding with me and Alexa.”
28 
P ulse skittering, Calli said, “Too much for me right now.” These women would 
know her failures intimately. She couldn’t bear that, she just couldn’t spread 
her focus now…all right, that was a rationalization…but would she tie the other 
Exotiques to her as strongly as she had Marrec? That would be wrong.
Marian dropped to a small chair, watching her with silent sympathy. “You’ve read 
Alexa and my Lorebooks of Exotiques. You know it wasn’t easy for us, either.”
Calli made a noncommittal noise. Even scrupulous Marian probably hadn’t included 
all her doubts and fears and failures. Who would? Though the visual “recording” 
of her time in the Dark nest embedded in the book was enough to give anyone the 
cold grue. “Don’t you think I’d make the same mistake with you?”
Chuckling, Marian said, “Alexa and I are strong, I think we’d erect mind 
shields, if necessary. And I think we’d all benefit.”
“I can’t,” Calli said.
“Okay.” Marian smiled as she switched to English. “Not yet.” Her eyes turned 
wistful, “Though it would be good to have another female friend I could depend 
upon implicitly.”
Calli jerked a nod. She’d like the women as sisters, too, but not…right…now. She 
had too many people to deal with on a personal basis as it was. Crossing to the 
small liquor cabinet, she opened a side of the split top. Despite the pressure, 
the four large bottles of alcohol were nearly full. Neither she nor Marrec were 
big drinkers. A little unusual in both the world of rodeo competition and the 
fighters of Lladrana. She shrugged off the little insight. Which reminded her of 
what they had in common. “White wine, right?”
“You have it?” Marian sounded pleased.
“Yes. White wine, the mead you like, the ale I like and the ale Marrec prefers.” 
Their squires had done well. She saw the gleam of metal and squinted, reached 
into the cavity and pulled out a purple tin chased with silver, opened it and 
smiled at Marian. “And tea.”
Marian chuckled. “Alexa isn’t here, but I’m sure she appreciates the thought.”
Raising her eyebrows, Calli said, “Why isn’t Alexa here? You don’t want to 
intimidate me by double-teaming?”
“One of the reasons. Also, she’s just plumb tuckered out from today’s battle. 
One of the dreeths got too close.” Marian’s gaze slanted at Calli, back. “It 
couldn’t hurt if she was bonded to another Shield.”
Calli’s hand trembled as she clinked bottle against wineglass. She finished 
pouring and stoppered the bottle, set it deliberately down and poured ale for 
herself. With equal care, she handed Marian the wine. “Not fair.”
“No.” Marian sipped.
“Every Shieldmarshall looks out for Alexa.”
“It’s not the same. They can’t possibly anticipate her.”
Calli laughed. “And you think I could?”
Marian shrugged. “Better than they.”
Sitting on a camp stool and stretching her legs, Calli said, “Topic closed.”
“Okay.” Marian circled her finger around the rim of her glass. “Second issue. 
The Snap.”
Calli choked, coughed. Marian put a hand on her back and hummed two notes and 
everything was fine. Nifty trick.
“Jaquar and I have learned more about it from studying the very meager 
information we’ve gathered from everyone, including the Friends of the Singer’s 
Library.”
“But not the Singer herself?”
Marian frowned. “Not her, nor her personal library.”
“Bet that’s like a burr under the saddle, and collecting all that info musta 
plumb tuckered you out, Prof.”
Grinning, Marian lifted her glass. “I can’t help it, sometimes. I was born in 
Colorado, too, ya know, and something about you just brings out the ol’ western 
slang.”
“Whatever meager western slang you ever knew.”
Marian laughed. “Got me there.” She took another swallow of wine and when she 
looked up, her expression was serious. “But you can’t deter me from speaking 
about the Snap, either. Sorry to ruffle your delicate sensibilities.”
“Yeah, sure.” Calli shifted, brought in and extended her legs again. “What’s it 
like?” she whispered.
“Like those old-time cartoons where someone hooks a performer onstage and yanks 
them behind the curtain. You know, time’s up.”
Calli exhaled slowly. “Oh-kay.” She put grit in her words. “But Alexa didn’t 
actually go into the dimensional corridor, and you went back.”
“I had my brother, whom I love.”
“And managed to get him and return. Good going.”
A corner of Marian’s mouth kicked up. “Thanks. But it sure didn’t work out like 
I thought it would.”
“Got that. But I study, too. You weren’t quite as bonded to people here as I 
am.”
“No. But the Snap will come, Calli. Don’t think you can duck it. It’s Mother 
Earth’s call, the primal Song of your home planet.”
“I won’t go back.”
“No beloved relatives?”
Calli shrugged. “I only have my father.” Her laugh was uglier than she’d 
intended.
Marian frowned. “Careful, I think unresolved issues can haul your ass back, 
too.” She smiled with an edge. “I speak from experience.”
Sighing, Calli said, “Lucky Alexa. No unresolved issues.”
“Yes.”
They shared a moment of silence. Both of them drank and this time Calli actually 
tasted the mellow ale. It was good, and the small warm path it took down her 
throat and into her belly was plenty nice, too. The small gaps in the tent flap 
showed white. The moon had risen and was painting the space outside her door 
silver. “So what’s the deal with the Snap?”
“As we all know, we have previously had no idea when the Snap will occur.”
Calli perked up. “You think you can predict when it happens? That would be big 
progress.”
“We think we might have deduced one component.”
“And that is?”
“The Snap happens after you have completed your task.”
Muscles tensed. “I thought the task was something the Marshalls gave Alexa.”
“Apparently not. There has been a specific requirement that an Exotique must 
fulfill.”
“Like Alexa finding the way to make new fence posts.”
“And the Exotique before us teaching the Singer good English.”
“Huh.”
“We extrapolate that the task is set by—” Marian coughed “—the need of the 
planet Amee herself.”
“Wow.”
“Yes.”
“And though there might be one major duty, Amee, shall we say, is not averse to 
getting as much as she can for the Power expended to bring us here.”
As much bang for her buck as she could. “So something big is still waiting for 
me.” She’d felt it all along.
“Yes.”
 
The first night and day home kept Marrec too busy to think of anything but work 
around the estate, presenting him with problems he had to solve—or at least 
consider before he figured out the right thing to do. He told himself that Calli 
was surrounded by excellent guards and good friends in the Exotiques. Many more 
Powerful than he would protect her.
But by the time evening had fallen on the second day, he’d caught up on all 
pressing matters and fallen into the slower rhythm of country life.
Marrec sang Diaminta to sleep, then ate a light meal and went to his bedroom—the 
master suite. Empty of his Pairling. He hurt. Why had he done this to them? But 
it was the right thing to do. No matter how safe behind the lines the encampment 
was, it was no place for a child, let alone an infant.
He stripped and showered, firmly closing the images of Calli and the hot spring 
in the conservatory from his mind. Though he preferred bathing, he didn’t see 
himself using the pool anytime soon. Not without her.
His body yearned for hers. For sex. He’d gotten spoiled. As an independent 
Chevalier, sex had been irregular for him, with long periods of celibacy. He 
preferred to save his money than pay for sex, and other female Chevaliers only 
occasionally indicated that they’d care to spend a night with him. Now he wanted 
more. He wanted Calli.
Restless, he dressed and wandered the large and echoing house. They still had 
only a few servants, though he wanted to hire more guards, especially for when 
he was away.
Before he’d had time to settle, a knocking came on the front door of the house. 
Stretching his senses, he felt a surprising spurt of pleasure when he realized 
that Jaquar and Marian were visiting. He hurried to the door. “Salutations,” he 
said.
Jaquar bowed and Marian curtsied, dazing Marrec’s wits a little. He still wasn’t 
used to Powerful people treating him with respect.
They entered and Marian looked around with approval. “You’ve done wonders here.”
Heat flushed under his skin. “Thank you.”
“And on the estate as well,” Jaquar said. “I can sense when land is tended and 
nurtured, and the Songs of the people are cheerful.” They’d reached the one good 
parlor now and Marrec issued them in, poured brandy for himself and Jaquar and 
wine for Marian. He knew what drink they preferred and that pleased him. He, 
too, was making new and Powerful friends, finding the rich and noble weren’t so 
different after all. Though he sipped his brandy much slower than Jaquar. Marrec 
wasn’t used to strong, expensive drink either.
Marian sat on a new love seat, her robes arranging themselves around her. “Yes, 
this estate is obviously prospering under your hands—and Calli’s.”
Marrec stiffened. He should have remembered that they would be Calli’s friends 
more than his own. “We have a child, and a battle encampment is no place for 
her.” He swept his hand around them, irritated that he was defending himself. 
“And responsibilities to our home.”
“I know what it is to protect a beloved one, while loving something else, too. 
It tears you apart.”
He hadn’t wanted to think of that, had shut his emotions down with regard to 
himself and Calli.
“Calli has responsibilities to all of Lladrana, to Amee itself. Don’t you think 
it hurt her for you to choose your child and your land over helping your 
Pairling? She has a problem believing that people can love her.”
Marrec had never thought of that. His gut burned. So did his eyes. “I’m not 
going to talk to you about Calli. But you are welcome to spend the night.”
“Ahem.” Jaquar cleared his throat. “We didn’t come to discuss responsibilities. 
You and Calli gave us several dreeth teeth and claws to commission into magical 
objects that would sell for a high price. We have deducted our price and now 
return the rest for you to trade.” He waved a hand and a bulging saddlebag 
appeared on a table. “I suggest you take them to Troque City near the escarpment 
to the City States.” He drank, then finished. “I mentioned them to a colleague 
of mine and the merchants there are expecting them.” He glanced at the bag. “The 
objects should command a very high price. Enough for you to hire a short-term 
caretaker and nanny.”
So much for not lecturing about responsibilities. “A child needs a parent. 
Diaminta is accustomed to having Calli and me near, seeing us each day, which 
would not be the case were I to stay at the camp. We are on four-day rotation.”
“A wife needs her husband,” Marian said gently.
That ripped at his heart. At least they didn’t point out that without Calli, 
he’d never have had an estate.
“Wrong,” Jaquar said.
Marrec blinked.
Marian rose and put her glass back on the liquor cabinet. “We are linked with 
Calli in some measure because we participated in the Summoning and the Healing, 
and that means we hear your Song better than most.”
“You are a very determined man,” Jaquar said. “You would have earned land of 
your own.”
But not an estate like this, and Marrec loved this place fiercely, as fiercely 
as his daughter.
As fiercely as he loved his wife. But his daughter and the land needed him more.
Both Circlets’ gazes were fixed on his face. He thought his expression was as 
impassive as always, but they could hear his Song.
Finally, Jaquar said, “Since you wish to spare your daughter the knowledge of 
the absence of her parents as much as possible, I suggest we travel to Troque 
tonight—a merchant will be available to bargain for our wares. We can return at 
dawn, before she awakes.”
It was sensible.
“I’ll watch Diaminta,” Marian said, her face lighting in the way of women 
thinking of babes. “After all, you and Calli intend to ask us to be godparents, 
um, parenties for her, don’t you?”
“Ayes. I didn’t know that Calli had told you.”
Marian’s smile was warm. “She mentioned it in passing, though it’s only logical. 
We’re the least likely of all your friends to be harmed in this battle with the 
Dark.” Her expression turned serious and she reached for Jaquar’s hand. “We 
assure you that…that…”
Jaquar said, “Should Diaminta come to us, we will always put her welfare before 
anything else.”
Cold touched the base of Marrec’s spine. “Thank you.”
Marian smiled. “Now, you two go take care of your business.”
29 
A couple of hours later, a dazed Marrec stood in the Troque Guildhall’s Landing 
Area, Dark Lance’s reins in his hand. The master merchant himself had negotiated 
with them, and they’d gotten a staggering price for their items. Marrec was 
stunned at the amount he received for magical amulets, had to dismiss himself 
behind a screen so he could place the rare jewels in a money belt wrapped close 
to his body. They wouldn’t go in pouch or pockets. His wits hadn’t quite grasped 
the wealth he now had or exactly what he could do with it.
Jaquar leaned on the open gate of the paddock. His volaran was the only steed 
within. “I have a colleague here. I’m sure you’d be welcome to stay overnight.”
The last thing Marrec wanted to do was to spend time in a Sorcerer’s home and be 
bored by talk of various obscure spellsongs that had little use to a Chevalier.
“Thank you,” he said, “but, no. I’ve traded in this town before, I know the 
Chevalier places.”
“Very well. My colleague’s tower is some ways outside of town. I’ll meet you at 
your estate tomorrow morning.”
“Good.” Marrec hesitated, then offered his hand. He’d enjoyed Jaquar’s company, 
the way they’d worked well together to bring the price of their goods up. The 
evening had been the most pleasurable he’d had with another man in a long time.
Grasping his hand, Jaquar gave it a firm squeeze. “I enjoyed our bargaining.”
“Me, too.”
Jaquar adjusted his dreeth-skin hat. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yes.” Marrec eyed the hat. He’d like one, too.
Jaquar opened his mouth, then shut it, shook his head. “Women are a puzzle, even 
for Sorcerers. I’ll not give you any advice.”
Marrec was thankful for that. He nodded and walked away, leading Dark Lance. The 
inn he usually patronized was shabbier than he remembered, but still close to 
the more expensive tavern and inn that most Chevaliers frequented when they were 
in town. At least he knew the prices and services here, so he got a room to 
himself and stabling for Dark Lance.
But once he was in his room, he was restless again. He definitely was 
unaccustomed to being alone now that he’d wed, and being solitary was different 
than being lonely. So he clumped down the stairs and headed toward the tavern.
This place, too, wasn’t quite as he recalled, but narrowing his eyes, Marrec 
figured the change was in him more than the inn. Raucous laughter came from a 
table, one voice lifted, demanding more ale. Marrec recognized the voice and saw 
three Chevaliers, all men, sitting and drinking, with a deck of cards on the 
table. They were all independents, as he’d been, and he hadn’t spoken with any 
of them for a while. He wended his way to the table.
“Ay, Marrec!” Zhardon, an affable moon-faced Chevalier, stood and pounded Marrec 
on the back, grinning. “Long time since we’ve had a drink together.” He nudged 
Marrec in the ribs with his elbow and winked. “Got a whole lot better to be 
doing than hanging with us, eh? Beautiful new wife, rich new estate.”
“A kid, even,” Luc said, finishing his drink and wiping his sleeve across his 
mouth. He smiled. He’d lost a tooth since Marrec had sat with them last. But 
Marrec had seen the flash of bitterness in his eyes.
“Guess you’re here for the same reason we are. To get a better price for our 
portion of horror kills?” Gentry asked smoothly. He was better educated than 
them all, but his Song held resentment, too.
Marrec wasn’t about to tell them that he’d traded with the master merchant 
himself, that he’d received a fortune for his kills—his and Calli’s. Odd how 
fortunes begat when you had a big stake. He dropped into the open chair.
“Barkeep, an ale for my friend, here, and another round for us,” Zhardon 
ordered, grinned at Marrec and winked again. “You can pay for it.”
“Looks like he can,” Gentry said. “Nice leathers.”
The others checked out what Marrec was wearing. It was one of his dreeth-skin 
leather sets and didn’t show wear, and he had two sets now, and two of regular 
cowhide. When he’d once only had one very mended set, the same as these men.
Zhardon leaned closer, his breath warm and smelling of ale. “So, tell us of the 
beautiful new Volaran Exotique.”
“Lucky dog.” Luc finished his drink and belched. “Damn lucky, to get that 
woman.” His stare fixed on Marrec as he lowered his voice. “Strange-looking 
woman.”
“But in a fascinating sort of way.” Gentry lounged back, arm across the top rung 
of his chair. “They say that she has fascinating ways in bed, too.”
“Calli?” Marrec stiffened, grabbed the wooden handle of his mug and downed a 
gulp, the rawness of the brew lay on his tongue.
Zhardon chuckled, drank, too. “All the Exotiques. Beautifully strange or 
strangely beautiful. That Circlet…” He shook his head. “Hair with colors of deep 
fire.”
The pretty lady who was now watching over Marrec’s child, whose eyes had gone 
soft with pleasure at the thought of being a parentie to his daughter.
“Is it true?” Gentry’s smile sharpened.
Almost, Marrec wished that he’d taken Jaquar up on his offer. And why was he now 
wanting to be bored out of his skull with the Circlet and his sorcerous 
colleague? No, that wasn’t where he wanted to be either. Home, with Calli and 
Diaminta. Simply, home.
He looked at these faces around the table, men he’d spent hours with, men who’d 
mirrored his own station and beliefs…once. “A woman’s a woman.”
“’Cept you’re bonded with this one. Just think, loving every night.” Zhardon 
sighed, saw his new mug of ale and his expression lightened.
“A plum estate,” Gentry said.
“Zhiv,” Luc said at the same time. He riffled the grimy deck of cards with his 
thumbnail. “Care to play?”
“No, thanks,” Marrec said. “I was lucky Calli chose me.”
“Very true, and a good thing you bonded with her,” Gentry said, gesturing Luc to 
deal.
A note in his voice sent Marrec on alert. “Ayes?”
Luc finished laying out the cards. “Heard you planned on taking four-day 
rotation, lucky bastard to be able to do that, I’m on two.” He fanned his cards. 
“We all are, to make more zhiv. But you’re leaving your lady at camp.” He shook 
his head, at the cards or Marrec’s foolishness.
“Some of my zhiv will have to go to a better tent,” Gentry grumbled, his gaze 
flashed up to Marrec. “So I can entertain. Camp’s good that way, keeping the 
women on-site. They get bored, too.”
Looking up from his cards, Zhardon met Marrec’s eyes with a warning in his. “Saw 
that Raoul guy, that local Chevalier who didn’t never come to the Castle and fly 
with us, move in on your lady, better watch out for that.”
Marrec stood, put a few coins on the table. “I’ll leave you to your game.”
“Ayes, strut right out of here the way you came, my lord noble rich landowner. 
Don’t think we’ll be seeing much of you again,” Luc said. He didn’t even look up 
from his hand.
 
He didn’t sleep well. The bed was lumpy and had a funny scent, though no fleas 
or lice or bedbugs. The sign outside the inn creaked in rising wind. Sometime in 
the early morning a light rain came—with frinks. The sound of the metallic worms 
skittering against the roof made Marrec’s hair rise. He’d gotten accustomed to 
living in areas where no frinks sent by the Dark fell with the rain. If any 
Exotique had visited Troque, none of them had been near this section.
His mind nagged at what the Chevaliers had implied about Calli and other men and 
jealousy gnawed. But nothing had changed. Calli and he were bonded. She 
wouldn’t, couldn’t betray him with another man. Could she?
But she wouldn’t be disloyal. No. One of the qualities that rose from every 
Exotique like perfume from their skin was their absolute loyalty.
That was the knot between Calli and himself, her loyalty to Lladrana, his 
loyalty to their child and their home.
Finally he dozed near dawn and didn’t wake until bright sunlight bore in through 
the window. He swore. He’d wanted to be gone by now. No doubt Jaquar had left at 
dawn as they’d agreed.
After a tasteless but filling meal, he paid his shot and walked toward the 
stables, looking around the courtyard one last time. He wouldn’t stay here 
again. Or at the inn where he’d met Zhardon, Luc and Gentry. He could afford 
better.
He grunted and stretched. Good morning, Dark Lance.
The volaran shifted in his stall. Good morning, Marrec. We are late. I should 
have awakened you earlier.
Probably. 
But you needed the sleep. Been an eventful week. His tone dropped to a lower 
note. The volaran, of course, disapproved of Marrec’s decision.
Your feed was good? He’d paid for the best the inn could offer. Dark Lance 
deserved better.
The volaran snorted. Adequate. I am the only volaran here. All the rest are 
horses. You must find better lodgings next time.
Marrec gritted his teeth. Understood. We’ll leave as soon as possible.
Perhaps. 
I didn’t think you wanted to stay here any longer. Outside the stables, warm, 
volaran-scented air wafted to him, comfortingly usual, so he allowed himself to 
consider that last ego-pricking remark of Luc’s. Had he been filled with hubris 
at becoming a landowner, strutting around as accused? He winced.
“P-p-please, L-l-lord G-g-g-gard-d-p-p-p-pont,” a whispery, young voice said.
Marrec was so stunned by the title applied to him, and not sarcastically, that 
he stopped before entering the stables. A small, thin boy of about eight dressed 
in worn clothes too big for him watched tensely from the dimness inside. He’d 
placed himself so that there were several avenues of escape. Marrec stopped the 
impatient words he was ready to snap because his brooding had been disturbed.
“Yes?”
The boy swallowed, licked his lips, said something so fast and brokenly that 
Marrec didn’t understand. “Can you repeat that?”
“I-I-I h-heard you and the Ex-exot-exotique w-w-were l-l-l-looking f-for 
ch-children t-t-to ad-d-d-dopt. T-t-take m-m-me!” He shut his mouth, looking 
deeply disappointed at himself. Pitiful. His body trembled. He clenched his 
fists and stood straight as if to deny the shivers of fright or excitement.
Marrec stared. This had probably cost the boy all his courage, guts Marrec could 
only admire. There was something about the aspect of the boy…“Come out in the 
light so I can see you.”
“I-I-I m-m-must d-d-d-d—”
“Spit it out, lad!”
“D-d-duties!”
Marrec nodded, stepped inside and glanced around the stable. It was 
painstakingly clean. The horses looked well cared for. “I’ll help you with 
whatever needs to be done.”
The boy’s mouth fell open and he stared.
Marrec raised a hand to draw the boy out into the sunlit courtyard and the child 
flinched. A low burn began in Marrec’s belly. The situation of this boy, alone 
when everyone else was eating, no doubt living in an empty stall when there was 
one available, echoed Marrec’s own memories. But Marrec thought that he, 
himself, might have had it better than this youngster.
With his hand open and flat, Marrec walked out to the courtyard, gestured to the 
boy for him to come. Phrasing questions to keep the boy’s responses short to 
avoid his terrible stutter would be a challenge. Marrec inclined his head, 
touched fingers to his heart. “I promise to help you. There’s a bench right 
here, in the warm sunlight. Come on out.” Marrec sat and waited.
The youngster’s face set in lines of resigned despair. He sidled to the edge of 
the threshold, standing in the sunlight, but still looked as if he might bolt. 
Across the yard and into the inn or into the town. Back into the stables to a 
hidey-hole Marrec was sure the boy had, or scrambling up a ladder to the loft.
Again Marrec stared. The lad’s skin was paler than a true Lladranan. His face 
was shaped more like northeastern Lladranans, more like the folk that Marrec 
grew up with than the people here in central Lladrana. Something else was 
different. He had dark hair, but not quite the black of a Lladranan. More like a 
dark brown. His eyes were a lighter brown, too.
“What are you?” Marrec said, and grimaced at the rudeness.
The boy swallowed, as if he’d heard such a question all too often in his brief 
life. He curved in on himself, ducking his head and hunching his shoulders as if 
he expected a blow—or more than one, a beating.
“I-I-I’m a b-b-bastard. M-m-mother was f-f-from S-s-sill Est-t-tate, c-c-came 
h-here t-t-to w-work, s-s-said s-s-sire f-f-from B-b-biod-d-dono.”
Biodono was one of the City States to the east of Lladrana. It was easy to 
understand what had happened. A merchant guest visiting the inn lay with a 
woman, got her pregnant, then returned to his home, unknowing or uncaring that 
he’d left a child.
Lladranans weren’t often kind to children of mixed blood. Not even Exotique 
children—unless the blood was noble and several generations had passed to make 
the family acceptable.
“Where are your parents?”
“M-m-mother’s d-d-dead. F-f-f—”
“Wait.” Marrec raised a hand to halt him. “Why don’t you nod or shake your 
head.”
Looking sad, again as if this was an all too common request, the child nodded.
Best get the brutal questions done first. “Did you ever know your father?”
The boy shook his head.
“Do you know his name, station or direction?”
A hunch of the shoulder and a shake of the head.
“Your mother never told you anything?”
His mouth twisted. “S-s-she l-left a p-p-paper.”
Marrec sighed. “What kind of paper…wait, an official paper?”
A head shake. “F-f-father’s n-name and c-city.”
“What’s your name?”
“J-j-jet-t-t-y-yer D-d-d-e-s-s-sill-p-p.”
“Jetyer Desillp.”
Jetyer nodded.
Desillp must have been the name his mother had used, coming from the Sill Estate 
where she’d been a peasant. At least Marrec had the name of his town. His lost 
town. “And you’d rather be Jetyer Gardpont?” Marrec asked softly.
A strong nod now.
“I see.” A couple of moments passed as he gazed at the boy, his lighter skin, 
hair and eyes. A notion bloomed inside Marrec. This is what a child born of 
himself and Calli might look like. Maybe. His heart clenched. Here was a 
youngster who could be a son.
A boy with the guts to approach a complete stranger with a huge request. A 
request, not a plea. A boy with the determination to get ahead in life. A boy 
quick enough to dodge the odd blow, smart enough to have escape routes and 
hidey-holes.
And perhaps Marrec was doing too much looking and not enough anything else. “Can 
you take my hand, please, to see how our Songs merge? I promise I won’t hurt 
you.”
30 
F ear and hope warred in Jetyer’s eyes. Marrec vowed that he’d see the boy well 
set whatever happened.
Jetyer threw back his shoulders, stepped out of the stables and into the bright 
light. His hair showed an even lighter reddish tint. He had a few little spots 
of brown on his nose and cheeks. Squinting, Marrec saw that there were even a 
few hairs of silver at each temple. From what he knew of the City States, their 
Power wasn’t so openly shown on their head as in Lladrana. The strength of the 
boy’s Power wouldn’t be obvious.
Once again Marrec held out his hand, leaned out on the bench until he was 
slightly off balance and no threat to the boy. Jetyer set his grubby fingers in 
Marrec’s palm. At his touch, Marrec closed his eyes and listened to the 
youngster’s Song.
It was subtle, as if tightly reined in. Jetyer’s shields—mental and 
emotional—were strong enough that Marrec would alert and hurt the child if he 
pushed past them. Shields Marrec was all too familiar with himself. Had he been 
closing himself off from Calli, trying to ignore the too-intimate Pairbond? 
Maybe, but this wasn’t the time to think of that.
He sank into himself, stretched with his own Power to hear the beat and tune of 
Jetyer’s Song. The melody lilted, deeper, darker than Marrec expected, and more 
complex. The clipping rhythm of horses wound in, the soul-yearning to experience 
wingbeats—volarans. Marrec smiled. It was a rare Lladranan child that didn’t 
want to fly. But this was more, almost a need to fly, and that Marrec recognized 
as being much like himself, like Calli, like all the best Chevaliers.
Marrec listened and heard a faint lilting twist, the Song of the blood. Foreign 
blood. Calli had some counterpoints in her Song. Could Jetyer’s fit with hers? 
With theirs?
The boy started to slide his fingers away. Marrec squeezed with his thumb. “One 
moment, please,” he murmured. “Try to relax.”
“W-we’r-re b-being w-w-w-watched!”
No doubt they looked strange, but any person with Power would realize what was 
going on—Marrec gauging a boy’s Song. Still…Dark Lance, here! That should give 
busybodies something to think about.
I heard you! A high-toned, nonstuttering mental exclamation from Jetyer!
Good. Try to relax. 
But the child couldn’t. Dark Lance had exited the volaran stall and stable and 
come to stand near them. Jetyer’s pulse skittered, his Song pulsed with awe, 
excitement, shattered into individual strident notes. Marrec released the 
youngster’s fingers, observing Dark Lance lowering his head to a frozen Jetyer 
and whuffling his hair. They’d drawn a small crowd in the courtyard, which would 
increase when word got round that a volaran was there to be admired.
Dark Lance stretched out a wing and there were “oohs.” The volaran smirked.
Marrec sighed. He should have gone somewhere more upscale, more used to 
Chevalier and volarans—and nobles. He didn’t have to watch his coins now, and 
he—and Jetyer—could have done without all the attention.
But since Dark Lance was here, checking out the boy, Marrec might as well 
consider the volaran’s opinion. He looked into one large, dark eye. What do you 
think of the boy as an addition to our family? He really wasn’t ready for more 
children, didn’t think it wise, but he couldn’t reject Jetyer, especially if the 
child’s Song matched well with Calli’s.
Dark Lance seemed to hear that last bit of Marrec’s thought. The boy would be 
good with Calli. Please her. You need to please her more.
Marrec grunted, watched Jetyer raise a tentative hand to stroke Dark Lance’s 
nose. The kid had guts and smarts and determination—and a well of more Power 
than Marrec would have thought. Like Marrec himself, the youngster could develop 
more, and perhaps his silver marks would widen. A lot about this boy reminded 
Marrec of himself. And would that mean that Calli would love the child? How much 
did she really “love” Marrec, and how much of her feeling of him was because of 
the Pairbond? His jaw clenched. Distracted again by thoughts of his Pairling.
Looking around the courtyard, Marrec started to rise, to lead Jetyer someplace 
private where they could discuss the matter further, when he saw one of the 
tavern wenches wiping her hands on her stained apron and watching him with an 
eagle-eyed stare.
That made him think of something else. Sinafinal, Tuckerinal! he called with his 
mind, wondering if either being would answer him, where they might be—at the 
Castle, the Circlet Island Alf, or the camp….
We are here. The phrase echoed in his mind. Two hawks circled around the inn 
yard then settled on Dark Lance’s back. The volaran sidestepped and grumbled.
With a half bow of his torso, Marrec mentally sent, Salutations, feycoocus. This 
child has asked to become a son to Calli and me. Should I accept him?
Sinafinal lifted a foot and used her beak to clean her claws. Why do you ask us 
a question you already know the answer to? But Tuckerinal flew down to land at 
the boy’s feet and circle him, walking under Dark Lance’s belly, causing another 
rumble of irritation from the volaran.
Jetyer had gone pale, eyeing the birds warily. Turning to meet Marrec’s eyes, he 
said. “Wh-what are th-they?”
Feycoocus, Marrec replied in a loud mental voice.
The youngster jumped.
He will do well, Tuckerinal said.
He has acceptable Power for the child of an Exotique. You will teach him and 
raise him right. 
I suppose, Marrec said.
Dark Lance snorted.
Turning her head to pin him with a narrowed gaze, Sinafinal said, You will raise 
him to be a fine man. Was that a prophecy? Or an order?
He didn’t much like the latter, but these were magical beings and he’d called 
them. Thank you.
Sinafinal swept a look around the yard, stepped close to Tuckerinal when he flew 
from the ground to alight beside her. Dark Lance’s back rippled. We will stay to 
witness the adoption.
By the Song, Marrec wasn’t quite ready to move so quickly. Too late now. He 
gestured Jetyer to stand in front of him.
Lips pressed together, but with a long, sure stride, the boy did so.
Keeping his voice low, Marrec said, “The most important thing a son of mine must 
do is love his mother, Callista Mae Torcher Gardpont, the Volaran Exotique. Can 
you do that?” He hoped to the Song that this child wasn’t one of those 
unfortunates that instinctively loathed Exotiques. Surely Dark Lance and the 
feycoocus wouldn’t have approved the boy if he had been.
The child’s breathing went ragged, he blinked rapidly and his lips trembled. 
“Ay-y-yes.”
Marrec considered him, the rising Song. “We’ll have to consult the medicas about 
your stammer.”
Jetyer flinched.
The adoption, prompted Sinafinal.
After a deep breath, Marrec projected his voice. “It is my intention to adopt 
this boy, Jetyer Desillp as the son of myself, Marrec Gardpont and my wife, 
Callista Mae Torcher Gardpont. To show my good faith and assure you all, I will 
seal my oath with blood.” He took out his new knife and made a slight cut in a 
vein of his right arm, flicked a few drops on the cobblestones near his feet 
where they dried quickly and remained bright red.
“Do you agree to be our son, to take the name Jetyer Gardpont?” he asked Jetyer.
“I ag-g-g-gree!”
Jetyer’s eyes were wide, the rim of iris looking lighter than ever.
Marrec said, “I am willing to participate in a surface bloodbond with Jetyer, to 
bind him to myself and my Pairling, my Shield.” With a touch of his mind, he 
searched for Calli, found her with Alexa in their tent. Good enough.
Calli, Pairling? he sent.
Marrec? What’s happening? Your Song is so…so different! 
He wanted to ask “different how?” but time was short and the way Jetyer was 
shaking, Marrec needed to get the bonding done quickly. He cleared the static 
from his mind, calmed his tone. I have found a son for us. His words rang like 
destiny between them.
Her Song dipped, soared, exploded into a thousand shards of tinkling notes, and 
he knew her eyes had filled with tears. A son? Really?
Yes. 
Her next sending was tentative, as if she whispered. We should not.
Dark Lance and the feycoocus agree the boy is ours. 
Boy? 
Jetyer is his name, a bastard orphan of a Lladranan woman and a foreign man. 
The boy flinched. How much was he hearing?
I cannot reject him, said Marrec.
Of course not. There was that spinning melody of her soft heart, her staunch 
loyalty. Her trust in him and his judgment.
Her need to be loved.
All harmonized in yearning, in acceptance.
Again Marrec focused on the boy, knew instinctively that the pale child 
quivering before him would love Calli.
Keep your mind with mine as I participate in a surface blood-bond. 
Yes. She, too, was quivering. He sensed her sitting atop their bed, Alexa’s arm 
steadying her. The Swordmarshall’s Song came, too, excited and happy. Do it! 
Calli said.
He returned his awareness to Jetyer. “Do you agree to a surface bloodbond?” 
asked Marrec.
Standing tall, Jetyer held out his right wrist, his dominant hand. “I ag-gree!”
Marrec unrolled the boy’s sleeve until the too-large cuff flopped over Jetyer’s 
hand, then shoved the cuff up to expose an arm a shade paler than the child’s 
hand. He met Jetyer’s steady gaze. “Ready?”
Jetyer nodded.
Glad the knifepoint was sharp and that the cut would be relatively painless for 
Jetyer, Marrec nicked the boy’s vein, swiped his own cut over the child’s.
Memory images flashed before his eyes, Jetyer’s, Calli’s, his own, even one or 
two of Alexa’s. His gut dipped, steadied, the boy stumbled, Marrec caught him 
close with one arm circling the child. “Easy,” he said, frowning. The 
youngster’s eyes had dampened.
The feycoocus cried out, shot into the sky, disappeared. Dark Lance trumpeted.
Jetyer continued to lean heavily against Marrec.
The tavern wench who’d been watching intently bustled forward. “Best get ya both 
up to your room. Get some good nourishing broth into ya.”
“Good idea.” Marrec frowned as he picked up the boy, who closed his eyes and 
went limp in his arms.
“He was mightly ’fraid of askin’ ya to be his folk,” the woman said. “Don’ think 
he et much last night nor nuthin’ t’day.”
Marrec hoped that was the reason for the youngster’s weakness, and not any 
memories of his own that the child had picked up or any images from Calli’s 
strange land. They’d have to be careful of a full bloodbond. Something else to 
consult the medicas about.
Dark Lance whuffled comfortingly. We should stay.
Yes, Marrec agreed, minding his step up the steep stairs to the room he’d just 
vacated.
Marrec, what is wrong? Calli sounded nervous.
Overexcitement on our son’s part, I think. He fainted. 
He felt her touch on his mind, steadying him, warming him, then she reached 
further. You are right. He is healthy.
We’ll stay here today and tonight. Jaquar and Marian are at our estate. 
Alexa says they know what’s going on. 
Huh. More bonds of friendship. He assured himself that was good.
I’m coming! Give me exact directions— 
No! Marrec settled the boy on the truckle bed that slid out from under his own. 
Jetyer is resting. We don’t know how long it will take for him to recover from 
the small bond. From long-ago experience of a life Marrec had left behind him, 
Marrec eyed the boy. I’ll probably get some stew down him then he’ll sleep all 
night.
Oh. Her tone was stilted. Marrec reached for her Song, felt it tumbling with 
need—for him or the boy?—disappointment, traces of the previous anticipation. 
There was a slight emotional distance there, a wary note to her tune, a missing 
beat in their shared Song. Alexa is joyful, too. We have agreed that I will meet 
you at home tomorrow morning.
Did Alexa offer, or did you request leave? he asked.
Her hesitation answered him, but he already regretted bringing up her need to 
please.
I would have requested, but Alexa made the offer when I was still stunned by our 
small bonding ceremony. I am going to request that Luthan Vauxveau and a Castle 
medica accompany me. Luthan can perform another bloodbond ceremony in our own 
village temple.
Marrec blinked. He’d never have thought of that. Delight and…affection for Calli 
pulsed through their bond. He bowed his head as if she stood before him. Good 
thinking, thank you.
I must make the arrangements now. I will ask Luthan how much time off we all 
need for the bloodbond and recovery. Then I will inform the Lady Knight 
Swordmarshall. 
He could imagine Thealia Germaine’s reaction to the Volaran Exotique adopting 
another child while the rest of the world needed her. Good luck. And thank you 
for bringing a medica, too.
I have a feeling that both Luthan and the medica will be curious, as always, in 
Exotique affairs. Bide well, Pairling. 
And you. 
 
Midmorning the next day, Marrec stood in the town square, holding Jetyer’s hand. 
Jaquar stood next to them, holding Diaminta. The boy looked paler than 
before—both from a scrubbing and renewed anxiety. He’d barely said a word, and 
once again a fine trembling coursed through his body. Marrec had brushed his 
mind with a reassuring touch, but it hadn’t helped much to calm Jetyer.
He’d been fascinated with Diaminta, who had crawled over to him and climbed into 
his lap upon introduction, with the sure sense of being accepted. Jetyer had 
encircled the baby with both arms and raised a damp gaze to Marrec. “I will 
protect her always.” Marrec hadn’t thought that his son had realized he hadn’t 
stammered. The moment had been precious and had made Marrec’s heart ache that 
Calli hadn’t been there to share it.
Diaminta’s emotional hurts were healing well, to the point that she was being 
spoiled…by the males of the staff. She’d dimpled at Jaquar, but had ignored 
Marian all morning. Diaminta needed to have more women around her and spend more 
time with them. Still, it was better this morning for her to be held by a man.
When Marrec sensed Calli and Thunder nearing, he’d led a procession of most of 
his staff to the village, carrying a quiet Diaminta and walking hand in hand 
with Jetyer to the village. He was unsurprised to see that most of the town had 
turned out, dressed in their best, ringing the square. News traveled fast in 
villages.
Now they gasped as Thunder and Calli appeared, flying far ahead of four other 
volarans. Luthan Vauxveau and a medica—a man—and Alexa and Bastien. Marrec 
frowned.
Alexa and Bastien are additional witnesses, Calli said. She waved. Good. Marian 
and Jaquar are there. You agree that they should be—um—parenties, just in case?
He’d thought on it and since she felt strongly about this and he couldn’t think 
of anyone he’d prefer—certainly not Lady Hallard or the folk who raised him, he 
answered, Ayes.
Good! She and Thunder descended in a landing more efficiently beautiful than any 
Marrec had seen. Thunder walked up to Jaquar. Diaminta squealed and patted his 
neck, tugged on his mane. “Thud! Thud!” The volaran winked at her but didn’t 
nuzzle. Diaminta pouted.
Calli dismounted, greeted Marian and Jaquar, and brushed a kiss—and a loving 
mind-touch—on Diaminta. Their daughter’s face crumpled and Calli circled around 
to face Marrec and Jetyer. A shock of deep attraction went through Marrec when 
he saw her fully. She was wearing a dark blue mage-gown that flowed from a split 
wide-legged skirt to full dress as he watched. Gold embroidery wound around the 
hem and up the sleeves, showing flying volarans. The robe emphasized the blue of 
her eyes and the gold of her hair. How had he kept himself away from her? Why?
Jetyer rippled with a shock from beside him, small fingers clamping hard around 
Marrec’s. The boy was dazzled by Calli, and he needed. He yearned for the soft 
touch of a mother more than Marrec ever had.
31 
C alli pressed a smiling kiss on Marrec’s lips and their Songs met and knit and 
their Pair Song rose and it was sweet, sweet. Damn. He should have had her come 
to the inn last night, rented the adjoining room for them. He didn’t know if he 
could last through a long ritual.
Then her smile widened—he wondered if he looked love struck—and she stepped 
back, moved in front of Jetyer and knelt until her eyes were level with the 
child’s.
“I am Callista Gardpont,” she said, her voice accented. “I will be your mother, 
if you please.” With a slow gesture, she reached for his head, gleaming 
brown-red in the sun, stroked his hair. Calm, dear boy, Marrec heard her say, 
including him and Diaminta in the mind-speak. She sent comfort and approval to 
Jetyer and he released Marrec’s hand, flung himself at Calli.
She held his thin body, stroked his back. Tears trickled down her cheeks. Their 
Song billowed, shadowy visions of uncaring men in both their pasts merged, 
vanished in the knowing of like to like.
“Well,” said another voice. “This shouldn’t be difficult.”
Marrec hadn’t noticed Luthan Vauxveau landing, but the noble Chevalier stood in 
pristine white flying leathers before them. Marrec wondered what Luthan saw. 
He’d never known the cool nobleman well, but since the man had become the 
representative of the Singer, even more depth lingered behind his dark eyes and 
his streak of silver had widened. Marrec supposed that the Singer had chosen 
Luthan because he had prophetic moments.
Luthan gestured to the medica.
Calli tensed, sheltered the boy. “Shouldn’t we be private—”
But the medica had already touched Jetyer’s temple, sent a mind probe. The 
healer frowned. Luthan set a hand on the medica’s shoulder and all of them 
connected mentally—Marrec and Calli and Diaminta and Jetyer and the medica and 
Luthan. The medica sucked in a harsh breath, dropped his hand and stepped back, 
shaking his hands and his head, flicking the Power that had risen and cycled 
through all of them from his fingertips.
“Interesting,” Marian commented lightly.
Marrec blinked, noticing that she was dressed like Calli, in a dress identical 
except for the embroidered gold lightning bolts. He thought she was considering 
joining the connection and Jaquar clasped her around the elbow, holding her 
back.
Luthan stepped aside. He looked at the medica and spoke coolly. “It is my 
understanding that when the bloodbond is forged, Jetyer will have the mental and 
emotional support of the rest of his family in diminishing his stammer.”
The medica nodded. “That’s my reading of the situation, too. As the boy’s life 
stabilizes, he will lose his affliction.”
Calli stiffened.
“Shh,” Marrec said.
“Release your soon-to-be-mother and we will proceed with the ritual,” Luthan 
said.
“Oh, good,” Marian said, rubbing her hands. Jaquar smiled and slipped his free 
arm around her waist.
Jetyer snuffled and let go of Calli. Marrec reached into a pocket and handed his 
son a fine linen handkerchief. The boy fingered the quality of it for a moment, 
then blew his nose and smiled up at Marrec with a brilliance that shot straight 
through him.
“That Temple is far too small for all of us.” Luthan stood with hands on his 
hips, surveying the village, the manor staff, the resplendent Circlets and 
Marshalls, and their family.
We witness, too! Thunder and Dark Lance and the other volarans whinnied in 
unison. Marrec hadn’t seen Dark Lance arrive.
Luthan cocked his head. He didn’t speak mental Equine. An excellent, patient 
Chevalier and fierce fighter, but not one blessed with the talent to hear the 
winged horses.
“The volarans insist on witnessing the ceremony,” Marrec said.
Nodding, Luthan said, “Then I think we can do this outside, here. It will please 
the Song and Amee equally. We will need the traveling altar from the Temple.” A 
man hurried away to fetch it and Luthan gestured Marrec and Calli and the others 
to move to the center of the square, the volarans to go to the edge.
“I will continue to hold Diaminta since I will be her and Jetyer’s parentie,” 
Jaquar said smugly.
Marian sniffed. “I’ll be part of the ritual, too.”
Luthan said, “Best form a bond between you and the children, too.”
The volarans called.
“They want to participate in the ritual,” Marrec said.
“No,” said Luthan. “Humans only in the pentacle.”
The townsman returned with the light traveling altar and implements and set it 
in the middle of the square where a faint pentagram showed as a trampling of the 
grass.
A horrible screeching arose. Luthan’s shoulders tensed. Jaquar and Marian 
smiled.
“It only needed this to complicate the ritual further,” Luthan muttered.
Two peacocks, feathers fully spread, pranced toward them.
“The feycoocus.” Luthan sighed.
All around the square people nudged each other, commented excitedly.
Marian clapped her hands and a rumble of thunder reverberated around the square. 
Everyone fell silent.
“Everyone is welcome to witness the Gardponts adopt their new son, and the 
designation of the Circlets as parenties.” Luthan projected his voice. “Family 
and parenties, enter the pentagram with me. Volarans, stand outside the circle 
at even intervals. Townspeople and well-wishers, circle around and link hands.”
The ritual was slow and stately. Luthan spoke in a loud, clear voice so all 
could hear. The binding this time was more complex but fully as potent as the 
one when they’d adopted Diaminta in the Castle’s Great Temple. Though they 
didn’t have the impressive resonance of Power used and stored, the different 
atmosphere of tree-dappled light, blue sky and land underfoot that had been the 
gathering place of simple people for ages touched Marrec more.
Baby Diaminta and Jetyer were bound first, and Jaquar and Marian formally linked 
to the family as parenties to the children with a few drops of blood. Even that 
small amount of Circlet blood made Marrec dizzy and Calli helped him and 
Diaminta and Jetyer stay conscious. Then came the bloodbonding—the cutting and 
binding of arms, Jetyer between Calli and Marrec himself. Luthan had judged that 
they should all be bound for only four hours and Marrec was grateful.
They walked from the green a family. Then there was a disturbance among the 
volarans.
One comes, Dark Lance said mentally. A mount for the children. He snorted and 
Marrec got the impression that he didn’t think much of the volaran.
The other winged horses parted to show a bluish-gray mare, one of the smallest 
Marrec had seen. The volarans were getting smaller, seemed to be breeding for 
daintiness. Not too good for big Chevaliers. He’d mention the notion to Calli, 
see if she could encourage the herds to breed for larger mounts.
Like me, said Dark Lance.
Jetyer let out a breath, then his eyes focused on the bluish-gray mare. 
“Sh-she’s b-b-beautif-ful.”
She was, in the manner that volarans prized, but she was too small for anyone to 
ride but a youngster—or an equally small woman like Alexa.
I am Sapphire. 
Sapphire, said Jetyer, easy in Equine.
Calli slanted Marrec a glance. “Think we can put Jetyer on for a try?” She 
didn’t wait for him to answer, but spoke Equine with her body, and reassured the 
little winged horse as she moved behind the mare.
The volaran stood still, turned her neck to look at them. Marrec thought he was 
the only one of them to realize that Calli had complete control of the winged 
steed’s mind. The mare could not kick. He and Calli lifted Jetyer to sit 
bareback.
Jetyer shouted in joy.
A flood of memories tangled between them—Calli on her first horse, Marrec his 
volaran. Calli and Thunder, Marrec and Dark Lance.
“Me and Sapphire!” cried Jetyer.
“She’s so intelligent and quick,” Calli said, beaming as Jetyer leaned forward 
and stroked the mare’s neck.
I am intelligent and quick, Dark Lance said.
Not as quick as this one, Marrec said. “Beautiful lady,” he said aloud.
Yes, Sapphire replied in Equine, lifting her head and tilting her ears. I flew 
in for the boy.
“Me, me!” screamed Diaminta, waving little fists.
“Jetyer?” asked Calli.
“She can sit ahead of me.”
“Good boy,” Marrec said.
“That’s kind of you,” Calli said.
Jaquar placed Diaminta on the volaran and stepped away. He shook his head. 
“Truly, the Volaran Exotique.”
They let the children sit a while on Sapphire’s back, then Jaquar took Diaminta, 
and Marrec and Jetyer and Calli walked slowly back to the manor. The blood 
traveling through them caused their minds to daze, as usual.
Sometimes the boy’s blood and memories were more familiar than Calli’s, 
sometimes the events Marrec had shared with Calli were easier to accept and 
understand than Jetyer’s ideas.
Calli’s and Jetyer’s Songs harmonized amazingly. So well that Marrec was almost 
jealous of his new son.
Once again emotionally bound with Calli, Marrec understood she’d been hurt by 
his withdrawal, yet his logical side continued to insist that what he was doing 
was right, for the best of them all. It was true that Calli still had a great 
need to be loved and to please others, but he saw her strong determination that 
their child—children—not be forced into the Chevalier life that was expected of 
both her and Marrec.
Once they reached the manor, they lay on three side-by-side pallets in one of 
the parlors. Diaminta’s crib was close so that she’d experience their binding 
Song. The room didn’t get direct sunlight and was cool and shady, and Marrec’s 
mind drifted away on music until voices rang around him and the cloth bonds of 
he and his Pairling and his new son were cut away.
They all embraced—with Diaminta—and then spent the evening in celebration. 
Jetyer kept close to Calli, and Marrec got the idea that he was spilling all his 
hopes and dreams—in only slightly stuttering language.
Later in the night, he and Calli loved with desperate tenderness.
 
The next morning breakfast was cheerful and lively. Afterward, Calli took Jetyer 
to the arena and she and Marrec gave him his first volaran-partnering lesson. 
The grin on his face made Calli’s eyes sting.
Finally, though, it was time to wash and change for her flight back to the 
encampment. Her steps dragged, her movements slowed.
She had just dressed when there was a quick, hard rapping on the door.
Marrec and she shared a strained glance, both knowing Jetyer was outside their 
door. Marrec strode and opened it.
“Mama?” Jetyer said, shifting from foot to foot on the threshold.
“Yes?”
“I…I…h-heard about the S-s-snap. W-will you b-be l-l-l-leaving?”
“Oh, honey.” She opened her arms and he ran into them, burrowed close, and she 
shut her eyes as she heard the pretty strains of his boy Song, smelled his 
scent. “I love you very much, and the more an Exotique is bound to Lladrana and 
its people, the easier it is for her to stay. I’m bound to you and your father 
and baby Diaminta. They say the Snap is a choice, and I choose to stay here with 
you and the rest of our family.”
“Are you sure?” The words were muffled against her body, but they were clear.
“Very sure. I won’t go back.”
“Son, I’ve heard from Shieldmarshall Bastien that I can help Calli during the 
Snap by hanging on to her. When it comes, why don’t we both hang on to her.”
The boy released her to look at Marrec. “T-truly?”
“Ayes.”
“And baby Diaminta, too? M-mama could hold her.”
“Well, you know Diaminta still prefers you and your papa,” Calli said.
Jetyer shook his head. “I th-think you should hold her.”
Smiling, Calli brushed his hair from his forehead, pretended not to see his wet 
eyes. “We’ll do that. Feel better now?”
“Ayes.” But there was a little frown between his brows.
Calli went to the love seat and sat down, patted the cushion beside her. “You 
know you can ask me anything, right?”
“Ayes.” He shrugged a shoulder. “I just don’t like this S-snap idea.”
“We won’t let it concern us. I don’t want to go back to the Exotique Land.” Like 
Alexa and Marian, she never thought of Earth or Colorado as home anymore.
Marrec sat next to her, draping an arm around her shoulders and now the 
fragrance of his skin teased her. Man. Lover.
“Calli isn’t going anywhere.”
She tensed a little at his words, kept a smile aimed at her boy. “I have to go 
back to the encampment, but your father will stay here with you. Flying lessons 
every day, and I’ll come back as often as I can.”
“Maybe I should go with y-you, so you’ll stay safe.” He nodded.
Oh, the dear child. “I like thinking about you here, at our home.”
Jetyer stood straight, looked Marrec in the eye. “Th-then Papa should go with 
you. I will look after Diaminta and…here. Someone m-must be with you.”
Just that easily the huge, black canyon of their differences opened between 
them. Marrec stiffened.
“You should go,” Jetyer insisted.
Calli rubbed her temples. “Jetyer, I haven’t finished my duties to Lladrana yet, 
and your father and I love you. We want you and Diaminta to have good lives. And 
both parents.”
“B-but that c-can’t happen just yet, can it?”
Why couldn’t Marrec help her out? She swallowed. “No, not quite yet, but soon, 
within a month, I hope.”
Marrec frowned at her.
“I feel it…that everything will be settled in a month.” Calli put her hand on 
her chest. Just for that instant she had known. She only hoped she could hold on 
to the memory of the feeling in hard times.
After a quiet lunch, she kissed her children and husband and walked with back 
straight to the Landing Field and they went to an arena for another flying 
lesson. She waved then soared high and sent Thunder toward the camp. Her 
volaran’s sympathy eased her rigid seat, made her concentrate on what was ahead, 
not behind her.
 
Calli fretted through the next couple of days, giving volaran-partnering 
lessons, teaching Equine, flying patterns. She even helped with the final 
testing of a Chevalier class and handed out newly won reins. Nothing fulfilled 
her. The only place she wanted to be was home—continuing to learn about her new 
family, bringing them together as a unit.
Raoul Lebeau had appointed himself her companion and was occasionally amusing, 
but it didn’t take the calculation in his eyes for Calli to know he kept her 
company because he wanted to get ahead. She also reckoned that he was a spy for 
Lord Veenlit, who was courting a happy Seeva. That woman seemed much more 
content in managing the camp than she’d ever been in attempting to become a 
Chevalier.
The battles continued, and though Calli didn’t fight without Marrec, she spent 
hours with the Marshalls and noble Chevaliers over battle maps, listening to 
strategic plans and planning warfare, which she loathed.
Chevaliers and volarans were lost and Calli grieved—more, she took the suffering 
of volarans who’d lost their fliers upon herself, serving as a counselor. This 
depressed her spirits even more, though she won praise from Bastien and the 
other volaran mind-speakers for being able to save three that would have pined 
to death at the loss of their human partners. She even determined where those 
volarans would survive best—one went to her estate, one to Bastien’s and the 
third returned to the great herd in Volaran Valley.
When Marrec showed up for his rotation the fourth day, he was still remote, 
their PairSong suppressed, unhappy that they were not together. Calli watched 
his every gesture, drank in his stories of their children, but did not apologize 
for doing what she thought was right.
No battle alarms sounded, but midafternoon Thealia Germaine’s Head of Chevaliers 
strode up to them. “There’s a meeting in the Lady Knight Marshall’s tent. Now.”
Calli and Marrec looked at each other. He reached for her hand, the first time 
he’d touched her.
 
Thealia glanced up from an unrolled map on the table in her magnificent tent. 
Her face looked pale, her eyes set deep in worn skin. At first Calli thought it 
must be the dim light, but then understood that it wasn’t. This campaign was 
grinding on all of them. She made a tiny sound in her throat and Marrec’s arm 
came around her waist. She savored the feel of it. Strong. Reliable.
Then she noticed Marian and Jaquar and stilled. They’d been absent from camp for 
the last couple of days. Something was definitely up.
Thealia nodded at the two Chevaliers at the tent flaps. “Close the entrance.” 
They did and a thick atmosphere darkened, gloom draping the space. A potent 
spell of secrecy.
With a short whistle, Thealia lit the lamps until light glowed. It might have 
been cheery and comfortable if everyone wasn’t so tense. Gesturing to Jaquar, 
Thealia said, “Report.”
Jaquar cleared his throat. “The Dark has been more vicious, more active because 
it is searching for a new human Sorcerer or Sorceress to become a new Master of 
its horrors. We believe the attacks on you must be an attempt by someone great 
in evil Power to prove himself or herself to the Dark.”
Alexa blinked. “Are you telling us that the Dark might be less aggressive if it 
gets another Master?” She sounded incredulous.
Shrugging, Jaquar said, “Perhaps, for a short amount of time. It is less 
organized.” He waved a hand. “The continual retrousse of monsters here instead 
of spreading them across the northern border where other fence posts remain 
fallen—and we can’t raise fence posts without killing horrors—the spending of a 
lot of dreeths—” He shared a glance with his wife. “We think the fire-breathing 
ones are all gone.”
“That’s good news,” Marrec said.
“All point to some thing that is not human, clumsy with detail,” Jaquar ended.
“We must carry this battle to the Dark before it finds another Powerful minion,” 
Thealia said, her voice harsh.
Silence throbbed in the tent. Calli found herself licking her lips as everyone 
stared at her. “I thought there was no way to get to the Dark.”
Marian said, “The Circlets have endeavored to penetrate the maw of the Dark’s 
nest on all other planes. To no avail.”
“So now we must carry the battle—or at least survey the nest here on this 
physical plane. Marian gave us the location,” Thealia said. She gestured them 
around the table, then stabbed at the map with her finger. “Here, Funeej 
Island.”
It was far to the northwest.
Marian stepped closer to Calli. “From old Lorebooks, it’s one large volcano.”
“Great,” Calli said. “Active?”
Shrugging, Marian said, “We don’t know.”
“It’s a long distance. It will take the strongest and most Powerful volaran and 
flier to scout for us.” Thealia met Calli’s eyes unflinchingly.
“Calli will not go alone!” Marrec insisted.
Thealia’s eyelids hooded her gaze. “It’s probable that on this physical plane, 
as in many, only an Exotique can penetrate whatever Powerful Shield the Dark has 
placed.”
“Neither Alexa nor Marian can go. They have been here on Lladrana long enough 
that the Dark knows them and has Shields against them,” Jaquar said.
Well, that was that. Calli’s stomach clenched.
“And while she scouts, she may have a chance to harm or destroy it. That fancy, 
blood-red knot you found, Marian, the weapon knot—” Thealia said.
“Calli doesn’t have a four-octave voice,” Marian said. “It needs a trained 
Singer to use the weapon knot.”
Thealia scowled. “I thought the requirement was perfect pitch. From what I’ve 
heard, Calli has perfect pitch.”
Calli just stared at the two women. She’d never had singing lessons, never much 
sang before reaching Lladrana, so how would she know if she had perfect pitch or 
not?
“A mistranslation,” Marian said stiffly. “I made a mistake.”
“Did that admission hurt?” asked Bastien.
Marian smiled. “A little, but I have rationalizations all prepared.” The tension 
in the room lessened. “Besides, I think that more than one person must release 
the knot.”
“Some other weapon, then. A bomb,” Thealia said.
“Ever think what the backlash might be to a volaran Pair from a bomb against the 
Dark so Powerful it sucks the life from our very planet?” Marrec’s arm tightened 
around Calli until she could barely breathe—at least that’s what she thought was 
causing her panting. Not sheer terror.
“Calli doesn’t go alone,” Marrec repeated. He stared at Jaquar and Marian, swung 
his gaze to Thealia. “This is all speculation. We don’t know what Shields the 
Dark might have. We mount a large force.”
Sometimes a sacrifice of one must be made for the good of all. Calli opened her 
mouth to say so, when Alexa punched her shoulder.
Alexa said, “We should also consider the fact that the Dark would love to get 
Calli in its clutches. To destroy an Exotique that has great potential to make 
the partnership between volaran and flier so Powerful that it threatens the 
Dark.” She smiled fiercely. “Like all of us Exotiques, Calli is more important 
in the long run than using her as an expendable sacrifice. We of the Marshalls 
will not consider Calli disposable. Absolutely no bomb.” She shot a glance at 
Marian. “That weapon knot. How many people does it need to Untie it with Power?”
“Six.”
Alexa jerked a nod, set her hand on the hilt of her baton, angling it forward. 
“And that’s the number of times an Exotique can be Summoned in the next couple 
of years, right? Coincidental? I don’t think so.”
32 
M ingled Songs surged in unspoken consideration, agreement.
“We’ll mount an expedition to survey the island and find an entrance where we 
can invade,” Thealia said.
“Great,” Calli whispered.
That evening, as Marrec was once more mining Faucon’s brain for experience in 
running an estate, Calli reluctantly accepted Marian’s invitation for some 
after-dinner wine.
She’d gotten into the habit of spending time with Alexa or Marian or both in the 
evenings when they were in the encampment.
Alexa and others had flown to battle. Calli and Marrec had been relieved from 
their fighting shifts until the scouting trip was over.
Though Marian, too, had adopted lush Arabian Night decor, Calli couldn’t get 
comfortable. Kept having to unclench her jaw to drink ale. Jaquar was nowhere to 
be seen.
“I suppose you want to talk about my task,” Calli grumbled. Her ale sat sour in 
her stomach. “You think this flyover of the Dark’s nest is my task.”
“It rang true to me, Calli,” Marian said, and Calli knew that was the simple 
truth. When they’d spoken of it earlier, Marian had heard the same sound of 
Rightness as she had. Damn.
Calli rubbed the back of her neck, met Marian’s sympathetic eyes. “Yeah, I heard 
it, too.”
“Calli…” Marian’s voice was almost a whisper. “I thought I’d remind you that 
both Alexa and I had to fulfill our tasks alone.”
There were several heartbeats of hard silence. “Alexa was in battle!”
“But she’d lost her Shield, all her other support.”
“So you believe I’ll have to do the scouting alone.” Her chin lifted. “I can do 
it if I must.”
Marian set her empty glass aside and came over to kneel by Calli, took her in 
soft arms and hugged her tight. “I’m sorry.”
 
Just before dawn, Marrec slipped away from their bedroll, dressed and left the 
tent quietly. Even the rise of Dark Lance’s wings into the sky as they flew away 
home was nearly silent.
And Calli hurt. He’d thought he’d left her sleeping, and she supposed she was 
grateful that he tried to come back at night as often as possible. Of course, 
that might just be for the great, driving sex. Now that they didn’t discuss 
things as often, that they kept their feelings to themselves and were apart as 
much as they were together, the passion between them had taken on a dark 
sensuality that ravaged Calli. She’d never done such things with a man before, 
been taken to so many edges, had returned the exploration of sexuality.
She should have been exhausted, but she always knew the instant he left their 
bed. She rose and put on a loose gown, went to a nearby pool and dunked, 
efficiently bathing. The sun was just sending the first shafts of light into the 
sky from behind the hillocks by the time she returned to her tent. To see 
Thunder standing in front of the flap, waiting for her, fully caparisoned in his 
fanciest black-and-silver tack. Time to go, he sent mentally.
Her nape tingled. Go where?
The lead stallion and mare of the wild volarans in Volaran Valley Summon. 
She hesitated, then nodded. I’ll be right with you.
The Valley is on the far side of Lladrana, we fly over mountains, much Distance 
Magic will be used. 
Right. I’ll leave a note…. 
Not necessary, said another voice, light and chirping.
Calli glanced down to see a peacock dragging its long, colorful tail come around 
her tent. Despite the fact that it was a peacock, Calli recognized Sinafinal. 
She tilted her head and the comb fluffed in the wind. I have not been to Volaran 
Valley for a while.
Thunder looked down his nose at her. You are not invited.
She clicked her beak, beady eyes glittering. No?
Thunder moderated his tone. I was told volarans and the Volaran Exotique only. 
His hide rippled. If you want to come, you must ask for an invitation yourself.
Sinafinal spread her tail, and it was more brilliant than the dawn. I will tell 
Alexa and others of Calli’s absence.
“Thank you,” Calli said. “I need to dress.” She hurried into the tent and 
inspected her clothes. She’d left her blue gown at home. Rubbing her fingers 
over the stains on her least battered leathers, she gave up and took new dreeth 
leathers that she’d never worn from a pegged clothing stand. Sliding the tunic 
and pants over her silk underthings, she found the skin unusually comfortable. 
Pliant. And she knew it was nearly indestructible. Though the color was a drab 
brown, there was a slight sheen to the clothes. She wished for a mirror, then 
shrugged and gave up. Wearing dreeth skin made a statement in itself.
When she stepped out of the tent, Sinafinal was gone and Thunder greeted her 
with a flick of his ears and a nuzzle. She stroked his nose, then mounted. Small 
sounds came of servants rising to tend fires and start breakfast.
Raoul, who now slept in a little guard tent between hers and another wealthy 
landowner’s, exited the tent wearing only breeches. He sent her a smile and 
stretched. “You’re sure taking off early.”
Calli nodded and swung onto Thunder, who ruffled his feathers.
Making a noise of disgust, Raoul curled his lip and said, “That man of yours is 
crazy to leave you alone for anything.”
“He’s watching our children.”
Raoul snorted, opened his mouth, then shut it. Calli knew what he’d stopped 
himself from saying. She’d heard him calling her children “orphaned brat 
bastards” when gossiping with others. “Good fighting,” she said. Let’s go, to 
Thunder.
“I hope not. Good journey. Where are you going?”
Thunder rose with a loud beating of wings, leaving the question unanswered.
As the sun rose, painting the sky in pastels, and the winds whispered to them of 
bright skies and sunny days, Calli’s mood lifted, too. Excitement fizzed in her 
blood. As far as she knew, she was the only person in hundreds of years to visit 
Volaran Valley.
She and Thunder stole precious time to do a couple of loop-de-loops and other 
aerial tricks, just for fun. No reason to worry about the cost of Distance 
Magic. Whatever the cost to their Pairling relationship, the dark night sex 
always energized her the next day, and did the same to Marrec.
As she passed over noble estates, volarans flew to join her in a colorful 
stream, wind caressing roan and white and gray and brown manes. This was the 
kind of flight she liked to lead, not trailing with other Shielded Pairs onto a 
battlefield.
They flew over her estate…and all the volarans, including Dark Lance, rose to 
accompany her…. Calli? came Marrec’s startled mindcall at the sight.
I am Summoned to Volaran Valley. 
She felt surprise from him, a flash of envy, and she was human enough to smile. 
I’ll be home tonight.
They don’t need you for the expedition planning? 
No. 
I’ll see you later. 
Volaran Valley was gigantic, an oval crater-like depression in the continent, 
ringed with mountains and showing a rich verdancy of grasses and flowers. The 
wild herd, though, was smaller than she expected. She circled down, sighing as 
the kiss of volaran Power—a magical shield—slid against her skin.
When she landed, a young mare trotted up, stared at her, swiveled her ears and 
dipped her head in greeting.
Salutations, Calli said in Equine.
Welcome. 
She dismounted from Thunder and staggered. The beauty of the valley itself was 
near perfection. She was drunk on volaran Song.
The herd circled her. No, not as large as expected…especially if this was all of 
them. Narrowing her eyes, she scrutinized them. The younger ones seemed smaller 
than the older ones and there were slight signs of inbreeding—color, 
conformation, the closeness of one Song to another.
The alpha stallion, a compact, muscular black, came up to her and she felt the 
strongest mental probe she’d ever had from him.
You were brought here to tell us of this Flight to the Dark’s nest, as the 
stallion projected the concept in Equine—a huge black hole with a writhing 
tangle of snakes—a shudder ran through the mass of the herd. Younger volarans 
flung their heads back, rolling their eyes, and galloped away. When they came 
back, they stood at the edge of the crowd around her, protected from her and the 
dire news she brought by their elders.
The young ones have not fought any horrors yet, a calmer, more resonant 
mind-tone said. Calli sensed it was from a mare, the alpha probably, but she 
didn’t step forward. She left Calli to the one running on testosterone.
The people believe this is your task, the stallion said.
Calli unfastened her waterskin from her side, unplugged it, swigged a little 
cool, minty water, then said, “Yes.”
The stallion nodded, a larger gesture than Calli expected. As if he spoke loudly 
to someone who didn’t know his language well. It irritated her, but perhaps her 
mastery of Equine wasn’t as good as she thought it was. And perhaps she should 
get over her nerves at the beauty of the scene and pay attention to the visual 
cues he was giving her. Concentrate on the alpha male. Yeah, that might be good 
if she didn’t want to get kicked.
Ears flicking, the stallion eyed her. We, too, believe this is your task.
Her mouth dried. She bowed. Thank you for that information. How can I do it?
Trust yourself and Thunder and the Song. 
In other words, he didn’t know or wasn’t telling.
There is something else… said the female voice.
Yes? 
The Song has been unclear, but you smell so good and look so good. A small, 
older white mare came forward, extended a long tongue and licked Calli’s arm. 
Taste good. She tilted her head one way, then the other. Your Song…it makes me 
want to Sing.
Calli simply closed her eyes.
The ambience of the valley sank into her, ancient Songs imbuing the 
mountainsides, the vitality of the winged horses. When she opened her eyelids, 
only the mare remained with her, and Thunder was eating and watching a few feet 
away.
Stay as long as you want, return whenever you want, the mare said.
Thank you. 
The mare fluttered her black-etched wings. We would all like to greet you. To 
smell. To touch and be touched.
Ayes. 
Some would like to fly with you. 
Calli pulled her handkerchief out of her pocket and wiped her eyes.
She spent the day with the volarans. This was the one essential task that she 
must fulfill, she thought, to bond with each of the wild ones, know their 
character. Sing with them. Fly with them.
It was after dark before she left. Wholly content.
Her pleasant mood was shattered as she began the descent to her home. Don’t 
bother to land, Marrec said. The Marshalls want you back at camp. The expedition 
to the Dark’s island leaves at dawn.
She hesitated, but before she could insist Thunder alight, he shot off toward 
the encampment.
33 
C alli shared tea with Alexa before dawn, letting her squire pack for her. Since 
her eyes felt rolled in dirt from sleeplessness, she was glad for his help.
“Everyone wants to survey the island.” Alexa grinned.
Calli’s heart jumped. She didn’t. This was not a beautiful flight with her 
volaran. This was a flyover of the enemy’s headquarters. An enemy that had been 
sending unlimited monsters across the borders of Lladrana for centuries.
“Good. That’s good,” she mumbled.
“But we’re limiting it to twenty. The strongest Marshalls and Chevaliers. We had 
trials while you were gone yesterday.” Alexa slid a look at her. “Volaran Valley 
pretty cool?”
“Nothing in two worlds is as cool as Volaran Valley,” Calli said sincerely.
Alexa sniffed, looked at her from the corner of her eye. “If you’d been here 
yesterday, we could’ve put up some barrels. You’d have won.”
Calli laughed. “I guess so.”
Sobering, Alexa said, “Marian and Jaquar are coming, too. I don’t know how many 
others of the Tower Community might show up—probably a few now and then along 
the way, bringing and taking reports and suchlike.”
The interlude of peace was over. Calli glanced around the camp. “We’re leaving 
this here?”
“Yes. Packing lightweight camping equipment only.” She pulled a face. “I never 
cared for camping. Hiking, yes. Camping, no. I hate bugs.”
“I can do that. I traveled more than one rodeo circuit. Did about sixty-five 
rodeos one year.”
Alexa stared. “You must have been on the road all the time.”
“Yes.” And she wouldn’t do it again.
Clearing her throat, Alexa said, “Will Marrec be coming?”
Calli’s smile was bitter. “Despite his shocked and loving attitude a couple of 
days ago, we are currently not speaking. I don’t think so.”
Alexa rubbed her face. “The, um, orders to be here this morning, huh?”
“I’d say that was the last straw, yes.”
“It’s only for a little while. One task.”
“One more task. One big task. That could kill me, and he’d die, too, right?”
“Oh. Yeah. I’m sorry.” Since Alexa’s hair stood straight out from her head with 
Power and tension, Calli guessed she meant it. Alexa shook her head. “It’s like 
riding a tiger. And I don’t guess I ever knew what that really meant ’til I came 
here. Rare that you get any breaks.”
“Ayes.” Calli put her teacup down and stretched her aching body. She’d flown 
with about twenty wild volarans in the valley the day before and every muscle 
ached. Concentrating on her breathing, she let her mind rest. “But even though 
Marrec and I aren’t getting along, I have him, a wonderful—sometimes—jerk of my 
own.”
Alexa snorted a laugh.
“And beautiful land of my own.”
“And great children,” Alexa said quietly.
Calli stared at her. “Do you mind not—”
Alexa shook her head. “No, not really. I’m pretty much obsessed with fighting 
the Dark. And Bastien. Well, not fighting Bastien, but being with Bastien. You 
know what I mean.”
“Yeah.”
“Leaving in ten minutes!” Thealia’s Powerful voice rolled over the camp.
“Guess we’d better get along,” Alexa said.
“Guess so.”
 
Even with Distance Magic, it took the Chevaliers and volarans time to fly 
northward. Marrec did not accompany them. Oh, he made the first couple of 
camps—as many as four, and Calli went home to visit after the first couple of 
camps—then the distance was too far. The skies outside Lladrana seemed heavier, 
as if Amee kept most of the magic in the world concentrated in Lladrana. And the 
Dark’s existence and its use of the area—breeding camps for the horrors—layered 
an additional danger.
Three weeks later the expedition camped on a gentle sweep of land that curved 
closest to the island. They weren’t in Lladrana anymore, hadn’t been since the 
first couple of days, but this land had always been claimed by the Dark. No one 
lived here.
Though it was cool so far north—maybe like Greenland or Iceland—the freshwater 
inland sea could have been dotted with settlements. All was barren of human 
life, and had very skittish, very limited animal life. The Chevaliers and 
Marshalls mostly subsisted on food they brought with them. No way could an army 
come this route. Not even all the Marshalls and Chevaliers who partnered with 
volarans.
A small strike force, maybe, and Calli nearly choked on her dry bread as she 
reckoned who’d be the main part of that strike force. Exotiques. Six in the next 
two years. It made sense.
The passage of time had crept up on her, the plans she tried to forget, and the 
next day was the flyover of the island.
Her mouth flattened. Even with the strongest steed, the greatest merged will of 
man and volaran, Marrec wouldn’t be able to reach her—them—in time to join her. 
All that concern of his for her back at the camp, and he was not here to support 
her. It was like a festering sliver. Nevertheless, she requested Tuckerinal take 
a message to him. Maybe with feycoocu magic, Marrec could arrive in time.
He’d want to know if she was putting her life in danger, if he was going to die 
at the same time. Morbidly she wondered how that worked, if fate caused an 
accident to happen, like a beam falling on him, or he just gave out of heart 
failure or something.
And didn’t that sound whiny and self-pitying and depressing? But all the time 
they were on the journey, her skin had itched. Actually, under her skin had 
itched, as if her nerves were tweaked every moment or so.
Sleep had been elusive. Often the most she got was when she grabbed some in the 
saddle in flight, but she, like everyone, bedded down early and quietly tonight.
Once again they rose before dawn. Calli shivered as her squire helped her on 
with her dreeth leathers and mail. They could only pray that whatever the Dark’s 
nest threw at them would not be lethal. They hoped for stealth. Whether they 
would succeed in that, she didn’t know.
Expression serious, Alexa walked over to Calli. “You aren’t going with us.”
“What!”
Alexa let out a breath. “We—” she gestured to Bastien and Marian and Jaquar who 
were clumped together a few feet away “—don’t think that this expedition will be 
successful. We think the Dark knows us all, has a force field that none of us 
can penetrate. You’re our secret weapon. So we want you to stay back, just in 
case.”
“Why don’t I ride with you and just go on if the rest of you can’t?”
“Because we’ll attract attention. They might mobilize, we don’t want you going 
in alone after we’ve alerted the nest as a sitting duck—volaran Pair.”
Calli gulped. “Good thinking.”
“We can save you for later, send you in alone as a surprise. Tomorrow morning. 
Just as the sun rises.” She appeared as dubious as Calli felt about that 
statement.
“Okay, I’ll stay.” She drew off her gauntlets.
Alexa smiled. “Right. Keep the home fires burning.” She grinned. “Or make 
breakfast for our return, or something.”
“I’m sure I’ll occupy myself. Maybe rereading the Lorebook of Exotique Alexa.”
“It’s very entertaining.” Alexa smiled. “Can’t go wrong.”
“And the Lorebook of Exotique Marian.”
“Not at all as fun.” Alexa kissed her cheek. “See you later.”
“Bye.” Calli sat under a stunted tree and watched them fly away.
A couple of hours later, the Marshalls and Chevaliers straggled in and fed the 
campfires. Calli knew from their faces that they’d had no luck—not the 
Marshalls, nor the Circlets, nor anyone else. Alexa was the only one who showed 
any emotion beyond weariness. She strode into the circle around the largest 
bonfire where they all congregated. “It was just like everyone said,” she 
grumbled. “I couldn’t get through.”
Marian frowned. “They must be able to set specific spells against us.” She 
shivered a little. “I was there, so they know my…let’s say DNA pattern…for 
simplicity.”
Alexa folded down to a cross-legged position, grabbed a spitted bird they’d 
saved for this meal, swore at the heat and munched. Around a bite, she said, 
“Yeah, I’ve always considered DNA the utmost in simplicity.”
“Smart-ass,” Calli said. That phrase meant the same in Lladranan and English. 
She tried to keep the tone light, as if it wasn’t a problem that she’d be the 
only one flying over the island tomorrow morning.
“But where would they have gotten your pattern, Alexa?” Marian asked.
“Dunno.” Alexa frowned. “Maybe the sangvile that attacked me. But, no, we killed 
that one.”
“We’ve been operating with the belief that the horrors aren’t telepathic, but 
have a group mind—what one knows, all know,” Marian said.
“Scary thought,” Calli said.
“Yes,” Marian agreed, “but I think it’s right.” She stared at Alexa. “They have 
your pattern somehow.”
“Looks like.” Alexa shrugged. “I’ve been here longer than you two. Fought in 
many battles. If one of the beasts or something was on the battlefield to, uh, 
take samples from me, not a problem. If the Dark bases its pattern on a DNA 
level, only a drop or two of blood would be needed.” She ran her forefinger down 
the scar on her cheek.
“Blood magic,” Calli murmured. “Sounds Powerful.”
“It is.” Marian glanced away from the fire and into the sky where the sun had 
just set.
“I’ve fought, too,” Calli said.
“But you haven’t lost as much blood or bone.”
“None of us have lost bone, thank the Song,” Alexa said.
Calli leaned forward to tap her fist on the end of a log.
Marian stared at her.
Her face warmer than just from the heat of the fire, Calli said, “Superstitious, 
knock on wood.”
“Huh,” Alexa said and did the same. “Never know what magic works here, do you?” 
She aimed a smile at Marian. “Simple charms might work, couldn’t they?”
“A simple protective charm to ward off danger. Maybe,” Marian said, and rapped a 
piece of wood near her. “The old Master probably got some blood from me, too.”
“Old Master?” Calli asked.
Marian cleared her throat. “There is a definite power struggle for the position 
as intermediary between the Dark and the invading monsters.”
“Not exactly a job I’d want,” Alexa said. Then scowled at Marian and Calli. “And 
no lawyer jokes.”
“That never occurred to me,” Calli said.
Marian kept silent.
“Huh,” Alexa said, then turned her attention back to the food. “I really could 
go for some coal-baked potatoes.”
Groaning, Marian said, “Why did you remind me? I love potatoes. There are none 
here.”
“’Cause you were thinking of lawyer jokes,” Alexa said.
Calli stifled a chuckle.
They ate and grew quiet. Whatever bravado they’d mustered until now vanished.
Thealia stalked around the camp. “We are tired, our plan futile. But there must 
be something we can do to help Calli.”
Her Shield leaned on his quarterstaff and whispered in her ear. Her face 
cleared, eyes brightened and she nodded sharply. “Ayes. Listen.” Her voice 
projected over the camp and everyone turned to her. “We will place Calli in the 
center of the camp, then initiate a Ritual. Of Security. Of Peace. We—and 
especially Calli—will rest in a strengthening trance all day. The feycoocus will 
guard us.” She bent a hard look at them. “They assure us that we will be safe.”
Murmurs and nods followed the pronouncement.
Almost reluctantly, Calli took her place in the center of the circle, as did 
Thunder, watched as people joined hands, and the volarans clumped behind the 
humans.
Then she slept.
Alexa shook her awake. “Time to get up.”
The knowledge of what she had to do chilled Calli. She dressed in dreeth 
leathers and armor, helmet and gauntlets as she had done the day before. Took 
crystal recording stars. She didn’t eat.
Far too soon she was mounting Thunder for the flight.
34 
T hey lifted off and soared, rising ever higher, and even though Calli knew she 
flew into certain danger to scout the island and map it, the tension she’d felt 
at camp dropped away.
She was flying.
She was free.
She had all the magic of a dawning day surrounding her.
Let’s go, she said to Thunder, firmly inside his mind, holding fear at bay.
He sent her a wave of love.
Truly, she was blessed.
They flew over the sea between the continent and the island. The enormous island 
of only one mountain.
The island that was really the nest, the home of the Dark that preyed upon 
Lladrana. Calli rolled her shoulders, set her teeth, this was it. Her true task. 
Once this was over, no more pressure.
Just do it, get it done, go back to her real life with Marrec and her children. 
Raising and training horses and volarans, making a family.
Even though her real life included incredible things that she’d never imagined.
They drew closer to the great mountain spearing out of the sea, snow and ice 
near the bottom, rising to black-encrusted lava and glowing red around the lip. 
Light and heat pulsed from it in ghastly intervals as if it was the Dark itself.
All the hair on her body prickled, her skin quivered. A susurration rose like 
water dripping on a red-hot surface and Calli’s heart lurched. The Dark’s heart? 
The sound liquefied her bowels.
She concentrated on viewing the mountain. The crags showed folds and crevices 
where Calli was sure evil horrors lurked. Dreeths, small and fire breathing, or 
large and vicious. Farther down the mountain black mixed with the white of snow 
and ice.
A miasma of danger enveloped them.
Her breath came short and ragged, matching the irregular rhythm of Thunder’s 
wingbeats. They both shivered. She’d have liked to pretend it was simply the 
result of the thin, cold northern air, but it was more.
Panic was not allowed, especially in a volaran flier responsible for her mount. 
Hadn’t she taught that every day?
So she sucked in a large breath, aware of the ice crystals, the chill 
penetrating her lungs. She reached for Thunder’s innermost mind, and merged, 
past thought and feeling, until there was an incredible brightness in her own 
mind. Living in the moment, living in the very stream of the Song.
She felt as light and as thin as a cloud, and so did Thunder. They’d reached the 
edge of the mountain now and Calli glanced down.
And saw nothing of herself or Thunder.
They were transparent! Invisible. A cry escaped her and she saw the lines of her 
legs, of Thunder’s barrel forming, taking on color. No!
Another slow, deep inhalation, a lightening of her mind and spirit, a casting 
off of all worry and keeping Thunder with her, doing the same.
They were a wisp of cloud, a feather floating on the air. They were unseen, and 
it was so.
Awe whirled inside her. What a wonderful talent you have.
Slowly words formed in Thunder’s mind, as if solidifying through the bright Song 
and drifting down. I do not know this talent.
But you have it. 
Then you have shown me what I did not know, and now teach me how to master it. 
And you can teach all the other volarans. 
Yes. You have demonstrated how we can protect ourselves. I will tell the alphas, 
they will consider it. 
Ayes, now let’s do our duty. 
They spent a long hour spiraling around the peak, from the bottom up, Calli 
memorizing the landscape, marking the fissures and lava domes, hoping the 
many-faceted crystal stars were transmitting. There was no harbor to speak of, 
nothing that would hold a fleet, but cliffs on the north. Any landing on the 
base of the island would be immediately noticed—visually, if by no other sense.
She saw no level place large enough to hold more than a couple of volarans, and 
no obvious entrance to the nest.
They passed over the caldera and reached the round, open vent. Calli looked down 
at bubbling molten rock, orange and red and awesome. No opening there. Other 
ethereal planes might indicate a maw, but not here before physical eyes.
As terror nibbled on the edges of her consciousness along with exhaustion—they 
must be expending a huge amount of energy staying invisible—Calli closed her 
eyes and let her senses rule, feeling an unholy pull of evil more like a putrid 
stench than anything else. She nudged Thunder’s slowing wings toward the spots 
that made her heart pound, her mouth dry, her body tremble with atavistic 
knowledge of torturous death. Opening to the evil core.
Three places, deep in slitted canyons so that she couldn’t truly see them, only 
sense they were there. She marked them on her internal map, and noticed her 
dreeth trousers were no longer transparent but turning their usual brown.
Boom! The air shuddered around them, heated instantly. A liquid fountain of 
magma missed them by inches.
Home! she screamed to Thunder. No time to stop and soak up energy. If she were 
Marian she could leach it from the lava, but she was not a master of fire.
Her specialty was air. Air. Heat, ash, lived in the air. Trembling, she squeezed 
the energy of heat from the air around her, did her best to filter it, transmute 
it to Power she poured into Thunder and herself.
Thunder surged forward, dodging more fiery spurts.
Dreeths screamed battle cries.
Go! 
She thought of lava, of rock, and croaked a Shield spell.
Their invisibility spell vanished.
Leaning down against Thunder’s neck, she urged him on, sent him all the Power 
she could spare, even prayed to the Song for a tailwind.
In the distance she saw tiny volarans speeding toward her, faintly colored 
Shields indicating the Marshall Pairs, heading to guard and defend her, battle 
horrors here at their home. All she had to do was pass the nest’s Shield, which 
she hadn’t even noticed on her way in.
Grinning, she urged Thunder faster. As fire—dreeth and volcanic—rained down on 
them, she drew the energy from them into her Shield.
And she stuck to Thunder as he dipped and dodged in the air.
Wham. Wind struck them hard from behind, ripped at Thunder’s wings, sent them 
cartwheeling. The dark blue sea advanced.
Thunder screamed.
Easy. Easy. 
She checked him over. No major wounds. Keep him calm though the sky and clouds 
spin, the waves’ reach…. Closing her eyes, she drained herself of Power, sent it 
all to him. Water splashed around them, icy. Her eyelids popped open. They were 
facing the island. A tidal wave bore down on them.
Wind and wave, flame and earth, by the Song hear me! Help us! 
Another gust of wind swept under Thunder’s wings; he angled them and rode it 
upward in a long spiral, heading toward the continental shoreline.
Alexa and Bastien bracketed them. Bastien flashed a grin.
You got through the Dark’s Shield. You did it! Alexa sent mentally.
Marian and Jaquar waved, then dived under Thunder. He squealed as more wind, a 
warmer breeze, lifted them farther, bathed them in energy.
Calli eased the clamp she had on his emotions. He was fine. Out of danger, and 
fine.
Alexa looked back. Calli did, too. Fire and steam still plumed from the 
mountain. The tsunami rolled below.
I hope the camp is packed up, Alexa said telepathically. Her smile flashed. 
Woman, you really caused a ruckus.
I doubt it is unaware of me anymore, Calli said, smiling, conscious of the cool 
air drying her sweat. Can’t go back there anytime soon.
Ttho, Bastien said. He shook his head. You were lucky.
Luckier than they thought, learning of the volaran’s invisibility talent.
You Exotiques. Always exciting to be around, Bastien said.
Like you wild magic users, Calli retorted.
He flung back his head and laughed.
Thealia Germaine flew around them, outstripped them to take point. Did you get 
the information?
Lady Swordmarshall, Exotiques always deliver, Alexa said.
Good, we’ll debrief Calli as soon as we make camp again. Some new Chevaliers 
have arrived to help us on our way back. Apparently, the feycoocus spread the 
word that we are returning. I’ll see to the arrangements. She flew ahead. Her 
husband and Shield winked and saluted Calli.
Breath coming more steadily, Calli asked, Did Marrec come?
No answer.
Jaquar rose to take Thealia’s place. He has not arrived yet.
Surely he’d gotten her message. Calli forced a smile, though seeing these loving 
couples hurt. She blinked rapidly. Good to see you all, and together.
We all had our differences, Marian reminded drily.
He’d better come around soon, Alexa grumbled.
When they landed in an area they’d camped a few days before, Alexa and Marian 
hugged her, then stepped aside so the men could do the same. Calli liked the 
male affection, their solidity, though it reminded her how long it had been 
since Marrec had held her.
Expression set, Alexa said, I’ll inform Thealia that she should go easy. She 
fingered her baton, pivoted and marched off.
Bastien patted Calli on the shoulder. “Well done.”
“That reminds me.” Calli plucked the recording stars from both her shoulders and 
Thunder and handed them to him. He didn’t even glance at them before flicking 
them magically away.
Calli sighed long, her shoulders slumped. She thought the tension rolled from 
her in waves. Maybe as big as the tsunami.
Jaquar lifted one of her limp hands and kissed it. “You have done us all a great 
service.”
“Yes, you have,” Marian said.
Sniffing, Calli smelled frying eggs, onions, bacon and salivated. One glance at 
the sky showed her it was still midmorning, though it felt like an eternity of 
days had passed. “I’m hungry. I’m gonna nab something to eat. I know you two 
want to look at those stars.” Calli flapped her hand. “Go.”
Marian smiled. “One of the stars is with Thealia. We’ll see you in the command 
tent.”
Calli nodded, realized she’d been leaning against Thunder, who had his head 
down. His feet occasionally scuffed in the earth, drawing Power from Amee, 
something volarans rarely did unless they were near the last of their strength. 
She rubbed him in his favorite spot. “I need food. I’ll make sure you get prime 
feed, too.”
Thunder swiveled an ear in agreement. Do not speak of the volaran invisibility 
to others, he asked softly. Marshalls and Chevaliers would want us to use the 
skill all the time, and it is a volaran secret, something a volaran should 
decide to use.
“I won’t talk of it, but you can tell the alphas that the talent is very, very 
costly in terms of Power—at least, when newly learned and for a Human-Volaran 
Pair. You volarans may be able to wink in and out by yourselves easier. Also it 
is mutually exclusive of the Shield spell.” I think.
Thunder tilted his head, a lock of his mane fell between his eyes. Perhaps only 
you can use it. He glanced at the others walking toward Thealia’s tent, being 
stopped by Chevaliers asking for news of the mission.
Or only an extremely few can merge with a volaran to Sing such a skill, like 
Bastien with wild magic. Swinging his neck around, he stared at Marwey. Or the 
one best in mind-merging. Or a good mind-speaker like Marrec.
It had been like an altered state. She grinned. She bet if anyone knew about 
altered states it was Marian. And Marian and Alexa, too.
Of course, all our Exotiques. 
He sounded like himself. She took in an easy breath. A great weight she hadn’t 
realized she was carrying lifted from her heart.
“Chevalier Callista,” called Thealia impatiently, standing at the entrance to 
her pavilion. “We await you.”
Calli’s squire hovered. I wish I could stay and groom you. Her stomach grumbled.
Thunder rolled an eye, smirked. I will be pampered.
“I guess so.” She walked to the campfire where the food was, had the cook stuff 
a pocket of bread with eggs and onions and cheese and began eating as she went 
to Thealia’s tent. She gulped the food down, then regretted it when she entered 
and everyone’s eyes turned to her and her stomach tightened.
“The stars are useless,” Thealia said. Her lips set into a tight line.
Jaquar stared at one in his hand. “Now, Swordmarshall, it’s true the Dark may 
have superficially blocked our devices—”
Thealia snorted. “More like they never recorded at all.”
“But several Circlets created each star. That took plenty of Power. We’ll find a 
way through the Dark’s defensive spells.”
“Meanwhile, Calli’s memory is our primary hope,” Marian said with a 
commiserating look at Calli. Marian gestured to a large table with blank 
parchment spread on it. “The parchment is magic, Calli. All you have to do is 
touch it and remember everything you learned during the flyover. We have a 
stack.” She looked eager, as always, to observe something new.
“Huh,” Calli said. “Water, please.” Her throat was dry.
Marian handed her an open bota and Calli drank. As she did so, her body absorbed 
the innate Power of the water. Interesting. Somehow during the ride, she’d 
bonded with another element of Amee, water, and could pull that energy into 
herself easily and naturally.
Her stomach settled, she twitched her lips in a polite smile and went over to 
the table.
Setting both hands on the parchment—render skin, because it took ink best—spread 
out on Thealia’s desk, Calli closed her eyes, gathered her best memories of the 
nest, sent them down to the waiting sheet. She opened her eyes and saw a precise 
topographical map with circular lines going up and up and up to the black open 
mouth of the volcano. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting for her, for them, the other 
Exotiques.
She pushed the large page aside. “More!”
A man’s hands shoved a stack of parchment onto the desk. Jaquar. These sheets 
were smaller, but still useful. Again she leaned over and let what she saw drain 
out of her…a geographical map of the island. A climatological. The volcano 
itself. The boulders, the fissures seething with steamy miasma. The domes and 
crevices.
Again and again and again until her knees gave out and her memory finally 
blurred and she crumpled.
Bastien caught her, his vibrant, vital Song sloughing away some of the grimy 
film the Dark had left on her. He helped her to a chair. Someone shoved a goblet 
into her hand and the fragrance of the potion cleared her mind. Everyone else 
gathered around the table, talking over each other.
“Merde!” Thealia’s voice was hard. “No good harbor. A few flat spots for 
volarans, but all in the open. How will we invade?”
She looked at Calli. “Good work.” Then the Swordmarshall turned back to the 
maps, flipped through them, her forehead wrinkled. “We’ll find some way.”
Calli’s stomach rolled. Sending volarans…people…Pairs…into that place. Her mind 
couldn’t grasp it. Her feelings rebelled. She chugged the potion, rose.
She couldn’t stay and listen to the endless discussion about strategy. The nest 
had worked its evil on her. She knew they wouldn’t be attacking it anytime soon. 
Too much bad mojo. Cold, she rubbed her arms, even though the day had been 
unusually hot for the north. She left the tent, ignoring calls after her. What 
she needed was her bondmate.
But Marrec wasn’t here.
She’d never forget that ride, the sight of the festering boil of evil, for the 
rest of her life. The shakes had started again in her toes and would spread 
upward. She wanted to get out of the camp, where she could fall apart alone. She 
wanted to ride in the sun. Fly high—higher than over the Dark’s place—feel the 
heated caress of sunlight, the embrace of the cleansing wind.
Thunder had been as affected as she, and in the back of her mind she heard her 
squire and others coddling him—and getting information about the flight and the 
nest. She’d have to ask Bastien to write down Thunder’s impressions, too. Marrec 
would have been the best person to do that, of course, and she’d hoped that he 
would have been waiting for her return. She’d been certain he’d be here. But he 
wasn’t and she set aside the disappointment. She was tired, that’s why she was 
so emotional, so wanted him.
Concentrating on the freshness of the air, she strolled to the corral, knowing 
that there would be no shortage of volarans volunteering for a high, fast, fun 
flight with her. Her mouth curved in a half smile.
“Ah, a pretty lady, dreaming. What are you thinking?” Raoul’s voice was nearly a 
purr, yet it pulled her from a slight daze and she stumbled. He caught her arm 
to steady her, linked his with hers. What was he doing here? One of the new 
arrivals. She should have known. Sleaze oozed everywhere.
“I’m flying.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You just came back from a long flight.”
This confirmed her judgment that he wasn’t a good Chevalier. She shifted her 
shoulders…those muscles were still tense and one of the reasons she wanted to 
fly. Sex would be better. “That was a mission. Now I want to indulge in 
pleasure.” As soon as she said it, she knew she’d given him an opening she’d 
never wanted him to have.
“Pleasure.” He smiled, slowly. Some woman must have told him he had a killer 
smile. It was nice enough, especially combined with twinkling eyes and handsome 
features, but it had no effect on Calli. “I would be honored to provide you with 
pleasure.”
She pulled her arm from his. Didn’t look his way when she replied. “I’m 
Pairbonded.” Though she still wanted to amble, she picked up the pace.
“I’ve never heard that Pairbonding was completely exclusive. And your Pairling 
leaves you so long, so often.”
Widening her eyes, she said, “No? Exclusivity is definite. It said so in the 
Lorebook of Pairbonding.” She didn’t even know if there was such a book.
His totally blank look amused her. “There’s a book on it? And you read it?”
The exchange was beginning to energize her, or the rapid walk. “Of course I read 
it. We Exotiques are given lots to read, and since I wanted to know about the 
Choosing and Bonding—the ritual and all.” Sounded good to her.
Within sight of the corral, she quickly scanned what volarans idled there, 
reaching out with her mind to discover which one would best match her mood. Her 
squire’s volaran was fresh. May I fly your volaran, she sent to man and steed. 
Her squire bowed, the volaran neighed in delight. So she walked up to the young 
stallion and smoothed his neck, noticing her hand shook. Let’s fly high and free 
and play!
The volaran lifted his head, twitched his ears, then eyed her companion. Pulling 
his top lip up in a smirk, he made a short hop to just in front of them, kicking 
up dust. Calli had had just enough warning to hold her breath.
Raoul doubled over coughing.
They were off and into the blue, soon away from the camp. Her body shook in 
reaction. She’d managed to fend it off as long as she had duties to perform, but 
now…Now shudders ripped through her. The volaran murmured in her mind, more than 
one, Singing, soothing. On one turn, he said, Look, angling his head.
Marrec and Dark Lance zoomed toward them.
Tears, pulled deep from her heart, flooded her eyes until she could barely see 
her Pairling. Marrec, she whispered mind to mind.
I mounted within minutes of receiving your message from the feycoocu. 
He hadn’t known. She hiccupped, slumped in the saddle, reached in her pocket for 
a handkerchief.
The blow hit her hard, toppled her forward, sideways. Darkness edged her vision. 
The volaran screamed, dropped. He’d been hurt, too! Another hit, backed by 
malevolent hatred, and pain exploded in her head. She fell. Saw thin mist below 
her, the gray tossing sea.
She was going to die.
Marrec and Dark Lance were there. He Sang, leaned far out from Dark Lance’s 
saddle. Grabbed her.
Air whipped around them, plucked Marrec from his volaran. The winged horses 
screamed but were lost from sight.
He and she fell together. She wrapped herself around him. So this was how 
bondmates died. Together. Complete and utter despair shrouded her. They were 
orphaning their children. I love you.
I love you. His arms wrapped tighter.
They didn’t plunge into the sea.
Another wind sucked them, buffeted them, into a gray place of mighty winds.
The dimensional corridor.
The Snap had come.
35 
H olding each other, they spun to a portal on the far side of the corridor and 
hung suspended. In the wide, wide door, the Rocking Bar T spread before her with 
all the lush richness of summer. Her heart tore. She loved that place. If she 
could have transported it back to Lladrana, she would have. The view telescoped 
and she saw her father near the corral. He was smiling, whistling, talking to a 
handsome younger man who had more city on him than cowboy.
Calli thought she whimpered, but the screaming tornadoes around her took her 
voice. She knew she trembled because Marrec squeezed tighter, nearly stopping 
her breath. At least that’s why she thought her chest constricted so. The only 
time she’d seen her father smile in recent years was when she won a race and 
when she handed over money. He looked happy.
That she was gone? He sure wasn’t grieving. She blinked her eyes, sent her gaze 
away from the man and back to the land, the fields and pastures, the trees, the 
gorgeous mountains, not nearly as threatening as those north of Lladrana. Then 
she turned her head into Marrec’s shoulder. She loved the place, but she loved 
him, their children and Lladrana more.
The winds seemed to calm and they drifted back to a closing window on the other 
side of the corridor, down to where a new portal was opening…ground level near 
the encampment.
A high-pitched note and glass shattering hit her ears. The whirlwind picked up 
again, took them. Thrust them toward Earth, through the door.
She saw where they were coming out. “Cliff!” she screamed, sent mentally with 
all her might, Side by side! Narrow path.
Calli stumbled out first, staggered to the side and kept her fingers linked 
tightly with Marrec’s and her body angled so that when he plunged through, she 
slowed his forward momentum. She grabbed him and forced him back against the 
wall of the hillside, away from the cliff. The ledge was pretty wide here, over 
a yard, but for a tall man running that was only a pace.
Trembling at the quick succession of danger, her breath rasped in and out in 
shudders. “Shit, I’m home,” she said in English and her eyes stung. That was so 
wrong. Her home was on Lladrana. A more verdant, older ranch than this one.
But seeing the land, the beauty of her native home, made her throat burn with 
unshed tears.
Then he was steadying her—and standing perfectly still, as if probing for danger 
with all his senses. “This is not Lladrana,” he said flatly.
“No.” She gulped in one last shaky breath, determined to get ahold of herself. 
“This is—was—my home on…on—” The scents were so familiar, the colors of 
mountains and sky and ground achingly beloved. Once. All her emotions tumbled 
inside her at being…here.
“Exotique Terre,” he ended for her.
“Yes.”
Slowly his gaze encompassed the panorama.
The clashing of wants, of needs, stopped in Calli. She loved this ranch, but not 
as much as she loved Diaminta and Jetyer. She flung herself at the crystal, 
pounded on it. “Let us in. Let us in.” She thought she screamed it…in Lladranan. 
Frantically, she peered into the depths of the shadowed layers, and saw nothing. 
No sign of the world she’d fallen into.
Marrec covered her fists with his hands, pulled them away. Her hands were red 
and scratched, but that didn’t matter. She gasped out words. “I came through 
here. Right here. That morning. I came through here! Why can’t I get back?”
“It was the Snap.”
“I know what it was! But I didn’t want to return. I didn’t.” To her horror, 
tears dribbled from her eyes, her nose started running. “And even…even…if I 
ha-had come back, it shouldn’t have t-taken you, should it have? I was sup-posed 
to stay. We were s’posed to stay.” Fear fluttered like a panicked bird inside 
her chest. “Why are we here? Why aren’t we there?”
“I don’t know.”
“How are we going to get back?”
“I don’t know.”
“Jetyer!” she screamed. “Diaminta!”
He shook her. “Calli. Stop. Stop this now!”
Wildness beat inside her, then she focused on his face. His golden-skinned, 
Lladranan face, alien to Earth. “Oh, God,” she moaned in English, dropping her 
head. “I’ve lost it.”
“Calli?”
She was too ashamed to meet his eyes. All these emotions rolling through her 
like a freight train. An English comparison. She switched to Lladranan. “I 
panicked. I’m sorry. I’ve never been so scared.” And now, in the cool shade of 
the mountains, she was cold. Shivering. Shock.
He gave her a handkerchief and she wiped her face, buried her nose in it to 
catch the scent of Lladrana, the faint odor of their children was on that piece 
of linen. She clutched it close. He set her back against the rough hillside, 
then stepped in front of the crystal. Tested it himself with large, firm hands. 
“Whatever doorway was here is now closed.”
Calli hiccupped. “Can you see any shades of Lladrana, any volarans?”
“No. It is but crystal to me. Would you have returned without me?” Marrec said 
conversationally.
That shocked her out of her grief. “Of course not. You shouldn’t have come,” she 
said and knew she was speaking Lladranan again.
“Shouldn’t I?” His tone was that mild one he used to hide deep hurt. Their Songs 
were only a whisper.
She looked up at him, gulped and pressed her lips together hard to keep from 
breaking into deep sobs. She wanted to be home, in Lladrana. She wanted to be 
here. If it had been at all possible to transport this slice of land to 
Lladrana, she’d have done it, swapped the place in Lladrana for this one. 
Foolishness. Despite all the strange and wonderful magic she’d experienced in 
the last couple of months, that could never be.
But most of all, she wanted this man and her children, her beloved children.
She framed his face in her hands. When she could speak, she said, “I would not 
have torn you from your home. From your children.”
“It is our home and our children.”
Her chin wobbled. She set it. “Yes.”
Once again, he turned to survey her old home, hands on hips. Every movement of 
his was outwardly casual, but very, very deliberate. She couldn’t hear much of 
his Song here. Hell, she couldn’t hear any of her own, but she sensed he was 
using the skills he’d developed over a hard life to keep himself from giving in 
to the panic she’d already succumbed to. He glanced at the clouds gathering over 
the mountains. “I don’t think we will be able to stay here on this ledge 
indefinitely.”
She cleared her throat. “No.” She patted her face on one small corner of the 
handkerchief, knowing she wouldn’t want to wash any scent of Diaminta away.
He stared at her, and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Their bond had all 
but vanished. She cast aside gibbering fear. That sure wouldn’t help anything.
“Neither of us are Circlets, with knowledge as to how to open any portal between 
worlds.”
“The dimensional corridor,” she said and couldn’t prevent one last, racking 
shudder.
“Ayes. I read Alexa’s and Marian’s stories.”
She hadn’t known that. She tried for a watery smile. “Then you know as much as I 
do, which isn’t very much.”
A rumble of thunder punctuated that remark and made her feel even more helpless. 
“We have to get off the mountain.”
“Ayes.”
She steeled herself. “It’s ‘yes’ here. Ayes. Yes. How good are you at 
languages?”
His eyes were dark, fathomless. “Good, I think, with dialects at least, and once 
I went to Krache in northern Shud. I know some of that language. But Calli, you 
forget, we bloodbonded. I think I will pick up your Ang-lish quickly.” He smiled 
but it had no humor. “It’s in my blood.”
“I suppose so.” With a deep inhalation that told her once again she was back in 
Colorado, she held out her hand to him. “Let’s go.”
“Together.” He nodded.
That started her eyes swimming with tears again. Her lips quivered as she 
smiled. “At least we are together.”
He grasped her fingers and lifted them to his lips and she heard the faintest 
wisp of Song. “I would not let you leave without me.”
She closed her eyes, opened her lids slowly. “Thank you.”
“Say that in Ang-lish.”
“English. Thank you.”
This time she tried to wipe her eyes on her leathers, but they were dreeth and 
useless for absorbing anything.
“Why aren’t you using my handkerchief?”
She gulped, whispered. “It smells of Diaminta.”
He flinched.
“Still, wouldn’t you rather be alone in Lladrana with our children instead of 
with me?” she asked.
“We have grown apart.”
She opened her mouth, but he raised a hand. “Both our faults. I would rather we 
both be on Lladrana. But we are a Pair. Pairbonded. We will always belong 
together.” His breath jerked out. “We can only hope our children will be cared 
for.”
“Alexa and Marian would never let our children be abandoned.” That was one thing 
she was sure of. “Never. They will raise Diaminta and Jetyer themselves, if 
necessary.”
He stared at her. “You trust them.”
“Yes.”
The wind spattered them with fat raindrops. Calli set her shoulders. “We’d 
better go on down.”
“Yes,” he said in English.
They were halfway down the hill when her gaze automatically swept the ranch. She 
noted that it had been a good year. The fields were green, the cattle fat. 
Something odd registered and she stiffened, fixed her scrutiny on the house. It 
had been painted. She could only stare.
As long as she could remember, it had been brown fading more into drabness every 
year, with darker, dustier trim. Now it was white and blue.
She stopped in her tracks.
“What is it?”
“The house. It’s been painted.”
“Then there have been some changes.”
“More than small changes, believe you me.” With force of will, she kept her body 
from trembling. “My father hasn’t painted that house since…since…never.”
Her scrutiny jumped from the house to the arena. It was in good shape, too, 
better than what she’d had time to fix up. Her father still stood with the 
younger man whom she’d seen when she’d been in the dimensional corridor. The men 
talked and gestured at four horses. Calli recognized none of them.
As soon as they reached the bottom of the path, Marrec took her hand, and she 
held tight. She and Marrec were only a few yards from the corral when her dad 
looked up. He stiffened and his expression went cold.
Marrec squeezed her fingers and she glanced at him. He looked equally impassive, 
but she sensed alert wariness from him.
The wind came up, more raindrops pattered around them as they stopped beside her 
father and the young man.
“So you’re back,” her father said.
“Yes,” she said.
“Will?” asked the young man.
“This is my stepson, Roy. Roy, this is Calli. You’ve heard of her,” her father 
said.
The emotional blow that he’d married was like a sock to her stomach, but it 
wasn’t quite as hard as it should have been. Her subconscious had put all the 
clues together. She lifted her chin, met her father’s eyes—the same color as her 
own. “This is my husband, Marrec Gardpont. Marrec, my father, Will Torcher.”
Her father looked Marrec up and down. Though he said nothing, Calli knew 
prejudice was kicking in. He nodded at Marrec. A nod of acknowledgment of 
someone standing before him, not approval, not respect, not even acceptance that 
Marrec was worthy of a handshake. Marrec stiffened beside her. She pressed his 
arm.
Her father’s smile had long gone. He was thin lipped now. “You back for good?”
She was pretty sure that everyone here thought her being back wasn’t good. 
Though Roy looked less tense than anyone else.
“I’ll fight you for the ranch.” They were months-old words that shot out of her 
mouth, filled with anger and bitterness, which she already sensed were futile.
“You won’t win,” he said, and turned away.
“I’ve put plenty into this place, and everyone knows it.” She kept step with 
him.
“Calli,” Marrec said.
36 
S he stopped the anger and humiliation and bitterness from bursting out in more 
hurtful words. Who knew all that was still inside her, as strong as it had been 
before she’d been Summoned to Lladrana?
Her father’s gaze swept the land and for the first time in her memory, she saw 
love for the ranch on his face. “Calli, you won’t win.”
“We’ll see.” Maybe not the ranch, but she’d get a stake.
“I’ll tell Dora you’re here.” He lengthened his stride.
Calli would have had to run to keep up with him, and that she refused to do.
“Will.” Roy’s smile was strained. “He’s a tough guy.”
“Yeah,” said Calli.
Roy held out his hand, “Roy Etrang.”
His grip was firm. Calli asked, “Aren’t you upset?”
“The ranch isn’t mine.” A brief smile, but flickering sadness in his eyes. “I 
won’t lie and say I don’t want it. But the ranch is Will’s.”
“And mine,” Calli said, then spoke another truth. “And Dora’s.”
Roy nodded, sympathy in his gaze. “And Dora’s. I’ll take you in.” He didn’t say, 
but Calli figured he knew, that her name wasn’t officially on any papers, and 
Dora’s was.
They circled the house to enter through the side door and the mudroom. Marrec 
was silent and Calli knew he was soaking everything in. She was glad now, for 
herself and him, that he’d had a rough life. He’d know to be quiet until he 
could adapt. He’d fight with her and for her.
Since she and Marrec wore no outer gear, she only brushed her feet on the mat, 
keeping her gaze from shooting up the narrow back stairs to her old room.
The rumble of her father’s voice came, along with high, shrill protests. She 
stopped at the open door to the kitchen. Marrec put his arm around her 
shoulders. Briefly, she laid her head against his arm. Felt the dreeth-skin 
leathers.
How things had changed.
“I won’t have her here!” a woman’s voice spiked.
“Then she’ll go stay in town,” her dad said expressionlessly. “Better to keep 
this here.”
Well, things wouldn’t be getting any better by lingering in the mudroom. Calli 
stepped into the kitchen, and color—pastels—burst upon her vision as if they’d 
been bold carnival hues, they were so different than the dingy white she’d left. 
The walls were newly painted in pale green, with pretty flowered curtains at the 
window matching a cloth on an equally new table with polished curvy legs.
A woman whirled to her. Calli’s eyes went wide. Her father’s new wife was a 
plump woman about his age with carefully tended colored blond hair, a slight 
sheen of makeup and bright blue eyes holding anger and greed. “You aren’t 
welcome here.”
“Mom,” Roy protested.
Dora tossed her head; no hair flew from its ordered place in the sprayed bob.
“I’m Calli Torcher Gardpont, this is my husband, Marrec.” She shut up. Nothing 
she could say would sound believable. She’d left without taking anything and had 
now reappeared, with a husband but nothing else. Her dad might not have noticed 
or cared and she could only hope Dora was too selfish and Roy too preoccupied to 
ask piercing questions.
Dora’s lips pushed in and out. Finally she said, “How long are you going to stay 
in the area?”
“As long as it takes to resolve things. And if we leave, it won’t be empty 
handed.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“Yes, we will. I poured a lot of money into this ranch.”
“Hmmph!” Dora huffed.
“Mom.”
“Your room is pretty much the way you left it when you ran off.” Dora’s eyes 
slid to Will to see if he would defend Calli from the jab. Calli could have told 
her that he hadn’t even noticed the slight. “You and your husband—” she stared 
at Calli’s ringless left hand “—can bunk there until we figure this out.” She 
turned to Roy. “I hope you’re happy now.”
He’d reddened, but jerked a nod. “It’s the right thing to do.”
“Doubt it,” Dora said. “Supper’s at five. That gives you about an hour to clean 
up.”
“Right,” Calli said. She’d always prepared supper at five. Discreetly tugging 
Marrec’s hand, she led him back to the side entrance. She needed to get 
somewhere private where she could have a quiet breakdown.
She climbed the narrow stairs to the attic, to her room, and opened the door. 
How small it was. How sterile. She stumbled in, no tears now, but continuing 
shock after shock, folded onto the double bed.
Marrec sat beside her and the old mattress pitched her into him. He circled his 
arm around her, drew her close. He was the only warmth in the universe. And his 
strong chest against her, the beating of his heart, was the only thing that 
mattered.
This wasn’t home anymore.
Probably hadn’t been “home” for a long time, but she’d defined it that way.
She—they—were torn from their real home, the one they’d built together.
“I am receiving flashes from your past,” Marrec said evenly. “So I know this is 
the house you grew to adulthood in.”
“Yes.” Her throat felt dry, but she didn’t have the energy to go to the tiny 
half bath for a drink of water. She scanned the room. It was relatively clean 
but smelled musty, and the heat would be too much for her if she weren’t 
shivering so.
“I recall when you were Summoned.”
That had tears flooding back and down her cheeks. Marrec swept a pillow from its 
case and handed her the cloth. She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I remember, 
too,” she said thickly.
“You were injured.”
She flinched. “Yes.”
“Had been very hurt, for a long time.”
She nodded.
“Your father did not ask about your injuries.”
A strangled noise came from her and she turned into him. “I don’t think he even 
noticed that I am fully healed.” She held out her hands to him. “This is not our 
home. Can we link and try to project our thoughts to Lladrana?”
“Good idea.” He took her hands.
Love, hope, fear cycled between them.
Alexa! Calli shouted, sending all her Power in a burst toward the first 
Exotique. She thought the scream got lost in whistling winds.
Marrec squeezed her hands. Try visualizing Marian. She’s a Circlet. Has a 
Powerful Song.
Telepathy didn’t work as easily here. Calli formed an image of Marian, and she 
was leaning back against Jaquar.
Good, Marrec said. He took her image and layered it with his own—Marian’s dress 
against her full figure, refined the shape of her breasts and hips, added shades 
of color to her hair. Calli chuckled. Then she concentrated on Jaquar, the blue, 
blue of his eyes, the line of his jaw—and his shoulders. When she glanced up, 
one side of Marrec’s mouth had quirked up and his eyes gleamed amusement.
She closed her eyes, gathered her Power, felt Marrec’s Song and Power join her 
own. Mar-i-an! The yell echoed through her head. She thought it might have 
circled the world. Her shoulders slumped and she opened damp eyes to look at 
Marrec. His expression was somber. He shook his head slightly. “Ttho. I did not 
reach her, either.”
Her lips had been pressed tightly together as she’d sent everything with her 
mind. “We’ll try again.”
He nodded, but she felt no hope from him.
 
They walked down the stairs and heard bustling from behind the kitchen door that 
was open a crack. Roy was saying, “But how did they get here? Looked like they 
walked in. They sure didn’t drive the truck Calli won last year. We’ve been 
using that. Put a lotta miles on it.”
Calli stopped in the mudroom. Luckily, neither Roy nor her father had seen her 
and Marrec descend the hillside path.
“Her fault if she left the truck for our use.” Her dad snorted. “Bert, next 
door.”
The next ranch over was about five miles away, if you rode.
“Huh?” said Roy.
“The Honorable Trent Philbert next door,” her dad said patiently. Calli had 
never heard that tone from him in her life. Something niggled at her mind as she 
heard Bert’s name, but she lost it as her dad continued.
“The guy with those fancy horses? He’s a big shot in Denver. The Philberts have 
had the spread down the road for the last eighty years, but mostly live in 
Denver and use the place a coupla times for vacation. Damn shame. He and that 
new flaky wife of his and those horses came down the day before Calli left. 
Bert’s always had a soft spot for Calli.” He grunted. “She gave him some money 
to invest from her winnings.”
“Really?” asked Dora. “How much?”
“Dunno,” her dad said.
Neither did Calli. She’d given Bert five percent of her first year’s winnings, 
and a little more every year when she’d seen him at the National Western Stock 
Show in Denver. Wonder how much she had. A soft sigh escaped her at the 
recollection of that money. If nothing else, it would give her and Marrec a 
stake. She hadn’t known Bert had arrived, with or without fancy horses.
“But their clothes!” Dora tsked.
“Yeah, those looked weird,” Roy said.
Marrec met her eyes, looked down at himself in his dreeth leathers. Calli had 
changed into some of her old clothes.
“Probably came from onna those theme parks,” her dad said indifferently. “Guy 
had been callin’ Calli to persuade her to work for him—Renaissance Past, or 
somethin’ like that.”
Calli blinked. That was true. Interesting how her dad spun a story. How easily 
he’d accepted and explained her disappearance. She bit her lip as anger spurted 
through her.
The clock in the living room bonged five.
“It’s suppertime and they’re lat—” Dora started.
Pulling the door open, Calli went into the kitchen. All places were set. With 
flowered paper napkins, too.
“Good evening, folks,” she said.
“Good evening, folks,” Marrec echoed.
 
After dinner, Calli showed Marrec around the ranch, helped with the evening 
chores and introduced herself and Marrec to the new horses—cutting horses, 
appropriate for a cattle ranch.
If…if they couldn’t get back to Lladrana…nerves jumped in her stomach…but she 
shoved that thought into a little box and locked it away, because otherwise she 
teetered on the edge of panic. Continued to plan for a future here on Earth. Had 
to. Keep moving forward.
But there was no way she’d get the ranch now that Dora had taken possession. 
Everyone in the area would favor her dad and his new wife over Calli. Calli was 
younger, would be expected to make her own way, live at her husband’s home. She 
swallowed hard. How she wanted that.
She’d fight, but didn’t expect it would take long. Only the time to talk to the 
bankers, negotiate with her dad, probably three weeks at the most. Three weeks 
to find a way back through the crystal to Lladrana…after that, the best Calli 
could do would be to walk away with money in her pocket to find a new place, 
another Power point to reach her home.
Time and again, Calli touched Marrec—more often than she ever had since those 
first few days in Lladrana. And each time, he returned her affection…even if it 
was only a warm look in his eyes.
Her fears calmed. She wasn’t alone with people who disliked her, had no use for 
her.
She gave Marrec the penny tour of the house, too, noting with wide eyes that the 
place now had three computers. The one she’d installed for the ranch business 
was replaced by a much newer, fancier model, and the desk papers looked arranged 
in a different pattern than her dad used—Roy, or Dora. Another, smaller desk 
made an L and sported another new computer.
Roy had a computer in his room, the spare room on the second floor. From what 
she could see at a glance, he had a stack of college texts—mostly on agriculture 
and ranch management.
As soon as it was dark and the others had gone to the living room and switched 
on TV, Calli took Marrec up to her room. She wasn’t up to explaining television, 
and Marrec, who’d been doing pretty well around the ranch, showed strain lines 
dug in near his eyes. He’d spoken little but observed everything. She got the 
impression that he was learning English quickly.
They showered, bumping bodies and making love, then went to bed after another 
try to contact Alexa and Marian, and a language lesson, with Marrec asking 
questions.
There, in the dark, Calli could whisper her real concerns. “Do you think we’ll 
be able to get back through the crystal? Do you think they’ll be able to Summon 
us back? Do you think they’ll even try?”
He didn’t answer her for long minutes. “The survey of the island must have been 
your task. You completed it. And have trained people to partner with volarans. 
It will depend upon the volarans, if they leave like they did before.”
She cleared her throat. “There was something else. Something I showed the 
volarans—how to turn invisible.”
He jerked beside her. “What?”
So she told him of the flight over the Dark’s nest, how she’d triggered an 
instinctive response in Thunder—for invisibility. She even took Marrec’s hand 
and tried to enter the same state of consciousness, but was too disturbed and 
tense. She almost laughed. She could manage to enter a different mind-set above 
an evil that gnawed at a planet, yet couldn’t throw off her own fears in a house 
that she’d known all her life.
She gave a watery sniff, rolled close to him, welcoming his hard body against 
hers, his arms around her. “Surely they wouldn’t think that I’d, we’d, abandon 
our children, would succumb to the Snap. They must know something went wrong.”
He stroked her hair. “I don’t know, Calli.”
 
That night, after Calli was asleep, Marrec lay in the small, lumpy bed and felt 
the tension they’d released explosively in lovemaking claim him once again. He 
was petrified down to his toenails and trying hard not to think that they were 
stuck in this very strange world. Yet he had little hope. The Marshalls didn’t 
consider Calli essential. They had their own Exotique. Calli had fulfilled her 
task, and her techniques for training volarans had been taught to others.
She’d even shown the volarans how they could protect themselves. Whatever her 
task had been, she’d fulfilled it. Them. Exceptionally well, of course. Would 
they want her back? The Chevaliers were still an independent force and he didn’t 
believe they would muster the desire and the zhiv to pay the fee the Marshalls 
would want again to return Calli. If the volarans left again…but would they? 
They loved Calli, but she’d given them something new, too, would they consider 
that enough?
Did anyone even realize that the Snap had gone wrong? That Calli hadn’t left of 
her own free will?
He, of course, was of no importance whatsoever and wondered how much Power it 
would take to open the crystal in the mountain from Lladrana. He knew enough 
from the time he’d spent this day to understand his Power—and Calli’s—was much 
less here.
He tried not to think of his children, of how Jetyer would feel abandoned. 
Nothing he could do there. He’d tried on his own to contact his son, to no 
avail, and was hesitant to ask Calli to send to Jetyer. Would people believe the 
boy if he said he’d heard his father and mother? Somehow Marrec didn’t think so. 
They’d put it down to grief.
Marrec pulled Calli closer, closed his eyes as they prickled when she snuggled 
close, threw a leg over his, as if to keep him near. He was glad he was with 
Calli. Despite the way it appeared, with him knowing little of the language and 
nothing of the society, he sensed she needed him more than ever.
This little trip had certainly unblocked his hearing in some ways. The air here 
was different, with an odd metallic tang he didn’t like. The sky was not quite 
the correct color blue, and the machines he’d seen were frightening. He hadn’t 
much cared for the food, and had listened hard to the quiet Song between himself 
and Calli to sense what was going on. Just from the abrupt and sharp tones 
others used with her, he’d known she was fighting battles where he could only 
stand beside her and offer support, not even understanding.
All this time, he hadn’t fully comprehended how hard it must have been for Calli 
on Lladrana. She’d seemed to fit into life—his lifestyle—so easily. He was smart 
enough to figure that the Song would Summon only those people who could adapt to 
Lladrana, but still it was a major accomplishment that he hadn’t given her 
credit for.
When they’d had that argument, he’d been right. Their priorities should have 
been with their children, and Calli wanted to please everyone. He could see why 
that was, now, with that hard old man who didn’t care a brass coin for such a 
lovely daughter. But she’d also felt as if there were other duties she had to 
fulfill—which he hadn’t truly realized.
He had been the one most at fault. He’d embraced his new life, wanted to be the 
best landowner in Lladrana. Wanted his estate to be considered a model for 
others. Wanted to implement every good idea he’d dreamed of over the years.
Underneath everything, he’d still been looking for status. His motives hadn’t 
changed, only the means—which Calli had given him when she’d chosen him. He’d 
drawn away from Calli—as much as a Pairbonded person could—and now he regretted 
it.
Now he could make amends. His life had changed once more, for the worse, riding 
down the wheel of fortune instead of up, and he knew he’d be lost forever on his 
own. But Calli would never leave him. The idea wouldn’t even enter her mind and 
he Sang a quiet prayer for that blessing. If they had to, once again, they would 
make another start together.
He slept little that night, woke as soon as he heard stirrings below, yet he 
didn’t get up. He wasn’t ready to face this world on his own, not even to stride 
across a room that wasn’t too different from those at home. Calli opened blurry 
eyes and smiled when she saw him. “Marrec.” She rolled a little closer, her gaze 
sharpened and he saw the joy drain from her.
No, this was not a good place for her, either.
She rolled back and stared at the ceiling. He’d studied those cracks himself.
“I’d forgotten.” She blinked hard and he saw tears on her lashes. “We aren’t 
home.”
She awoke and it all came rushing back. Her children had been torn from her. 
Curling up in a ball, she moaned. He held her as she cried, sobs shuddering 
through her body. He let her weep for them both. Wiped her tears with a handful 
of funny soft cloth from a box on the bed, and kept her close, stroking her 
back, making soothing noises.
Finally, she sat up and rubbed her eyes, glanced at a flat circular thing on the 
wall. “I want to know where I stand, and don’t want to take anyone’s word for 
it. We need to visit town—Bellem—to look at land records and go to the bank.” 
Her words were a mixture of Lladranan and English, but he got the drift.
He was glad she’d said “we.” He picked up her fingers and pressed a kiss on 
them. “Pairling.”
That made her face soften, a smile curve her lips.
“I’ll follow you, just as you followed me.”
She looked stricken, her gaze fell. “I didn’t. I didn’t follow you on Lladrana.”
He cleared his throat. Brushed his lips to her fingers again. “You did those 
first days.”
She snorted. “We were bound together.”
Brushing hair back from her face, he said, “True, but later you followed your 
Song, and did what was needful.”
“As you did.”
“Calli, I’m sorry. I should have been less demanding.”
Sighing, she said, “There weren’t any good answers, once we adopted the 
children. But now it’s different. If—when—” Her lips quivered. “We’ve done 
enough and we have a family. We can contribute by training, on our estate, not 
by fighting.”
“I’m glad you see it that way.” He kissed her, long and slow and deep. His body 
readied. So did hers as he tested it.
“Breakfast, Roy!” called Dora.
Calli flinched.
Marrec gritted his teeth and accepted that he’d find himself in a cold shower 
shortly. Still, he wanted her happy. So he kissed her brow tenderly. “We will go 
into this Bellem, then check the crystal again.”
She rolled out of bed, all business. “Yes, Koz transferred money for gems and 
brought them to Lladrana. I can do the same, but I need to know how much I 
have…and…” Her eyes were too bright when she rushed into the little bathroom.
He knew what she meant. If they couldn’t get back to Lladrana.
37 
M arian knocked on Alexa’s door in her Castle tower.
“Entre!” shouted Alexa.
Opening the door, Marian saw Alexa pacing. The Swordmarshall hadn’t been still 
since Calli’s and Marrec’s volarans had returned to the northern camp without 
them.
“How’re the children?” Alexa asked.
“As well as can be expected. Settled here in the Circlet Apartments with us. 
Thank the Song the feycoocus used major magic to bring us back, and you and 
Bastien, too.”
“I tell you, she’d never leave those kids of hers. And wouldn’t take Marrec, 
either.”
“Marrec had to go, he’s Pairbonded,” Marian said.
Scowling, Alexa said, “And how does that happen? I thought a Pairbond was a 
pretty damn good guarantee that an Exotique stays.”
“We know hardly anything about the Snap.”
“Don’t give me that shit.”
With a weary sigh, Marian sank into a plush chair. “It’s true. I’ve gathered 
journals, letters, other papers and items from previous Exotiques.”
“Really?” Alexa looked a little distracted from her worry.
Marian smiled. “Yes, I’ll let you have them as soon as I’m finished.”
Alexa scuffed the carpet with her foot. “I still don’t read Lladranan well, 
especially handwritten cursive. What’s with the Pairbond Exotique thing, 
though?”
“You’re right, as far as I can tell, no Exotique, male or female, who was bonded 
to a Lladranan returned to Earth.”
“There’s something screwy going on here,” Alexa said, fiddling with her jade 
baton.
“There’s always something strange going on.” Marian sighed again, clasped her 
hands, unclasped them. “Every day something new happens that I’m not prepared 
for.”
Alexa grunted. “Got down to every few days with me, ’til lately.” She walked to 
the curved windows of her suite, staring to the west, where shadows still draped 
the land. “She wouldn’t leave the children.” Her face set in stern lines of 
determination. “I want her back. Her and Marrec.”
“The volarans didn’t abandon the Castle like they did before she came.”
“Yet.” She shot a glance at Marian. “I can feel the wrongness of her not being 
here in my bones. Can’t you?”
“It’s as if a major theme is missing from the melody.”
“Got that right,” Alexa said. “I can’t settle.” A brief grin flashed. “Bastien 
has liked that—for now, more active sex. But I want Calli back.” She looked up 
at Marian, eyes shadowed. “I don’t think we can win this war without her. This 
could be the work of her enemy. Or the Dark. Or both. Tell me we can get her 
back.”
Pain swirled through Marian. She felt it all, Calli’s children’s anguish, the 
volarans’ shock and distress, the Chevaliers’ wariness, the Tower Community’s 
deep unease. She promised something she didn’t know she could deliver. “We’ll 
get her back.”
 
Marrec had learned early in life that it was near-fatal to show fear, so he kept 
his locked down around the men and the older woman. And with Calli, too, since 
he didn’t want her to know how extremely disturbed he was.
He was being very, very careful, like the first weeks on the noble’s estate 
after he’d been orphaned. For the first time in his life he’d realized the three 
great streams of luck he’d had. When he’d claimed the trained volaran on the 
battlefield, which led to being taken with the winged steed to the estate, when 
Calli had claimed him, and now, surviving once more in a place completely alien 
to him—with Calli as his guide.
Seeing, feeling her home, was illuminating. The land rejoiced that she’d 
returned, Sang of her—as did the house and the barn and the stables. As her 
father did not. The man was a dry stick, whatever emotion he had focused on his 
new wife. A woman that was a small flickering candle flame to Calli’s 
incandescent star.
What was the most incredible thing was that Calli needed him. Here at her home 
as much as, or more than, in Lladrana. The man and woman stared at his different 
skin and hair and features, and he finally recognized the small hum of wariness 
that had been in Calli’s Song from the moment they’d met. She was not Lladranan 
and every person there—except Alexa and Marian—had stared at her. No wonder she 
strove to please. No wonder she cherished the other two Exotiques.
After breakfast, they went back up to her room and she headed straight to a low 
wooden cabinet and opened it, pulling out a small brown tooled-leather bag. She 
flipped through it, face pale. Then she just shook her head and met Marrec’s 
eyes. She lifted the bag. “This is a purse. It’s a standard joke of our culture 
that no woman leaves her home without her purse.” Her smile trembled on her 
lips. “But here it is. And though I think Dora went through it and took my 
money, everything else is still here.” She shook her head. “My father…” She 
lapsed into silence, but Marrec knew her thought. Her father had not cared 
enough about her disappearance to wonder about the bag.
She opened a panel in the back of the cabinet door and took out a white paper 
envelope, looked at a stack of green pieces of paper. Dividing it in half, she 
gave him some and told him it was zhiv and explained the denominations. Then she 
studied him, hard, before asking again in simple English whether he wanted to 
ride to town.
He had agreed, but thought she meant they’d ride horses. Instead, it was in a 
wheeled metal vehicle that sent any Song he could hear of nature or even between 
himself and his mate into random notes. With white knuckles and stiffened body 
he suffered through the minutes until they arrived. He was out of the “car” in 
an instant. Mastering the door handle had been easy.
There weren’t a lot of people on the white walks near the buildings or in the 
streets.
“It’s still early yet, but the mercantile will be open,” Calli said, then 
repeated the phrase in English.
Yet everyone in town stared—at his clothes, at his face. Calli had told him that 
this was a small town but the center of local government, “county seat.” It was 
as large as Castleton, but appeared much, much stranger. The first thing they 
did was go into a shop and buy clothes for him. That morning Calli dressed in 
some of her old clothes. He changed behind a curtain and Calli bundled his 
dreeth leathers into a bag of thin, slick, noisy composition.
The only thing he liked was the hat and boots. He’d admired Roy’s and Will’s 
hats and boots and was glad to get his own. The hat was gray and sturdy, the 
boots black with intricate white stitching.
They walked down the street. But Calli stopped at a huge glass shop window. 
“This is new.”
Inside showed a multitude of colorful items, all glittery and colorful except 
for a thin, white scarflike wrap with gleaming silver beads and silky fringe at 
the ends of the sleeves and the hem.
Calli sighed, shook her head. “Who would put a world import shop in Bellem?”
Her gaze once again shifted to the scarf-robe, pristine amongst the bold reds, 
blues and gold.
Marrec gestured at the door. “In.”
“No.” She met his gaze steadily. “We don’t know what the future will bring. We 
may need all our assets.”
His jaw clenched. Just as in Lladranan, here the assets were Calli’s assets. 
That fact had gnawed at him, even though she’d let him handle the zhiv.
But she read him like no one else, and stepped closer to him. “Marrec, I’m so 
glad you’re with me. I’m so glad you’ve always been with me. I couldn’t have—You 
have helped me so much and continue to do so.” She brushed his cheek with a 
kiss. They stood there for a while, and people walked around them, giving them 
curious glances.
The moment crystallized for him, the look of her and everything else in this 
strange world, the smells, the way the breeze slid against him, the underlying 
Song. He knew that somehow if he was trapped on this place forever, he could 
survive.
Then they went to an imposing building where Calli wanted to check on the 
ownership of the ranch.
Marrec decided to wait in the corridor. The more he heard the language, and from 
a variety of throats, the more he understood it. Many concepts might be lacking, 
but if the people were talking about something simple, “kids,” “lunch,” 
“horses,” Marrec could winkle out the meaning.
A young couple came in holding hands. The man wore strange black-and-white garb, 
the woman a long white dress. Smiles greeted and followed the couple as they 
walked along the hall. Marrec frowned. An image tickled his memory and he 
patiently tracked it down to something he’d seen in Calli’s mind during the 
first few minutes of the heady rush of the bloodbond. It wasn’t a real 
recollection of hers, but a dream, a visualization. Of herself wearing such a 
gown. The image had had a lot of yearning associated with it. She’d wanted it 
badly.
He rose and sauntered after the couple. They turned into a doorway, and he heard 
the young man’s excited voice. “We have an appointment with the Honorable Judge 
James.” The woman giggled nervously and said, “He’s going to marry us!”
Marrec walked closer, until he could see into the doorway. A gray-haired woman 
stood behind a desk, smiling. “I can see that,” she said and looked down at a 
book with very white pages, little lines and handwriting. “You’re his second 
couple today. John Anderson and Rebecca Schmitt, right?”
“Yes.”
“Did you bring anyone else?”
“Witnesses? Uh, no!” the man said. He shared an anxious glance with the woman, 
who clutched the little bunch of flowers so tightly that Marrec saw a drop of 
green juice hit the floor.
“You aren’t required witnesses for the marriage,” the woman soothed. “But it’s 
nice to share the occasion, and we have a lovely marriage certificate as a 
memento in that case. No charge.” The young man swallowed and sent glances all 
around, then caught sight of Marrec.
“Uh, sir, could you…uh, we’d ’preciate you joining us to witness the marriage, I 
mean, see us married.”
The repeated word of “marriage” made the definition finally sound in his mind. 
Bonding. Pairbonding. The man was wearing two sets of long sleeves, so Marrec 
didn’t think that it would be a bloodbond. This might be interesting. He used 
one of the few words he knew. “Yes.”
The door to another chamber opened and they went in. A man Marrec’s age glanced 
at the couple, and stared a few seconds at him as the older woman closed the 
door behind them. Then the man inclined his head. Marrec already knew people of 
authority didn’t have streaks in their hair to show it here, but he sensed the 
man’s status all the same.
The ceremony was interesting. And short. It only took a few minutes and Marrec 
listened hard to the vows, trying to set every word in his memory. This is what 
he and Calli would have done if they’d both been of this world.
Marrec didn’t know how to sign his name in English. Something he’d have to ask 
Calli. So he took the writing instrument awkwardly in his hand and signed in 
Lladranan. The young man shook the judge’s hand, then held his out to Marrec. 
Marrec did the same. The young woman threw her arms around him and stood on 
tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Thank you. Thank you!”
He said what the others had. “You’re very welcome.”
“This doesn’t look like Japanese or Chinese or Korean,” the older woman said, 
studying the official parchment.
“No,” said the judge. “More like Arabic, but not that, either.”
The bride shifted. “Can we have it now?”
“Of course.” The judge handed her the paper. She grabbed her husband’s hand and 
they hurried out.
The older man studied Marrec. Uneasiness pricked his nerves and he said what 
Calli had told him. “I’m with Calli Torcher.”
“The Rocking Bar T? I hadn’t heard she was back,” said the woman.
“Yes,” Marrec said.
The man considered him another moment, offered his hand. “Good job.”
Marrec shook his hand and said, “Thank you,” then bowed and left.
Calli was waiting for him outside the room she’d gone in. When she saw him, her 
expression eased. “There you are. Is everything okay?”
Since he’d heard the latter English sentence even on Lladrana, Marrec said, 
“Yes.”
She linked arms with him, as if to make sure he wouldn’t stray. “Good.”
“Yes.”
Her manner was restrained. He sensed she didn’t have nearly as nice a time as 
he’d had. Must have been the distressing news she’d anticipated. But they didn’t 
go back to the ranch. Instead, they sat on a bench in a well-groomed green area 
that looked like the squares townsfolk made in Castleton.
“Dora moved in fast. From what I heard from Roy, she’d only been in town a 
couple of weeks before she met Dad. They were married—and she was named co-owner 
of the ranch—after another two weeks.” Calli made a disgusted noise, then 
blinked hard. “I never would have thought he’d fall for a gold digger.”
“Gold digger?”
“A greedy woman only out for what she can get.”
Marrec put his arm around Calli, scooted her close. “There seems to be affection 
between them. I don’t think she will run out on him.” He’d heard violent 
whispers between Calli’s father and his new wife—all about how Calli’s mother 
had left and then how Calli had “run out.”
“No. Her life isn’t too hard. Beautiful land. Adoring husband. Future for her 
son. After I get out of the way.”
Marrec stroked her hair, her lovely, lovely hair, more common here than in 
Lladrana but still unexpected to him. He touched her face, turned it so he could 
see her eyes. Damp blue eyes. “You have an adoring man.”
Her chin wobbled. Her eyes closed, then opened, and tears trailed down her 
cheeks. “Thank you. Thank you for being here with me. It would have been so hard 
on my own.” She brushed his lips with hers. “Thank you for being you.”
He frowned.
She smiled. “Thank you for being the kind of man you are. Strong. Supportive.”
“Adoring.”
Again she closed her eyes, shook her head, then settled into the curve of his 
arm. They sat together, thigh by thigh, and Marrec made no suggestion to leave 
this place. Instead, he closed his eyes, too, and listened. He heard the babble 
of English, footsteps slow and brisk, but beyond that, he could hear the Song of 
this world. So rich. So vibrant. So strong. Unlike Amee’s.
He was glad Calli hadn’t said they’d had the same simple life that Dora had 
found. That they would have it again—somewhere, somehow. They’d fight and fight 
again to return to Lladrana, but what happened when years passed? Would they 
adopt more children, different children? A shaft of pain so deep lanced him at 
the whisper of the thought that he cast it aside. Calli wrapped her arm around 
his waist.
They sat for a while, until the peace of the land infused them and their own 
human problems diminished. Calli sniffed and disentangled herself from him.
He asked what he’d wanted to know all morning. “Calli, am I your husband?”
Her smile was slow and beautiful. “Yes. Yes, you definitely are.”
They sat for a few minutes in silence and he found the world beautiful.
She straightened and kissed him on the cheek. Determination was back in her 
eyes. “The bank is opening. I want to check on my money, see how much I have and 
get records for the last few years.” Her lips twisted. “For my personal account 
and the ranch’s. It will be interesting to see if my father took me off the 
ranch’s account.” She took a deep breath. “If he did—well, I’ll leave it for 
now, but will come back if we don’t get what we want. Will you wait here?”
He sensed her roiling emotions. She didn’t want to believe that they would have 
to stay in this world, but she was planning as if they had to.
“Yes,” he said, tried more words. “I’ll wait here.”
With a smile and a nod, she walked to another stone building. He waited until 
she was inside before he hurried to the shop with the white robe.
 
That afternoon, Calli and Marrec stood on the hillside, hands joined. She smiled 
up at him and took a deep breath. “Here goes.”
Together they placed the palms of their opposite hands to the crystal. A jolt of 
electricity sizzled through her. She hissed out a breath and kept her hand flat.
38 
“A lexa!” Calli and Marrec shouted in unison, mind and heart and Song.
Nothing.
“Marian!”
No response.
Calli clunked her head against the crystal. The hard, unyielding crystal. “I 
guess this proves that it only opens when the Marshalls do a Summoning ritual.” 
Her voice was thick.
“I guess so.”
“How will we ever know? If we go away—and we’ll have to—how will we—”
“Shh.” He took her in his arms. “Let’s not worry about that now.”
She snuffled, cleared her throat. “All right. Let’s not cross that bridge until 
we come to it.”
“A good saying. We’re Chevaliers. We won’t quit fighting for the life we want.” 
His lips twitched up in a smile. “We’re Chevaliers, though I haven’t spent as 
much time as I wanted with those fascinating horses here. They are much more 
intelligent and sensitive than the ones on Lladrana. English I am beginning to 
understand. Equine I still know.” He took her hand and led her down the path. 
“Earth Equine has additional nuances not known to their kind on Lladrana, and 
not used by volarans. Another, quite beautiful, language.”
That notion distracted her. “You’re right.”
“I also now know why you use so much body language and cues—the effort to speak 
mind to mind is considerable.”
“Also true. I wonder if it will get easier, or if there’s some way to boost it.”
“A question worthy of Marian.”
She tensed behind him, realized she couldn’t go on ignoring references to their 
life then. “Thank you.” But they both lapsed into silence until they reached the 
corral where Will and Roy were with the horses. To Calli’s amazement, she 
actually thought she saw relief in Will’s eyes. The horses were greener than 
he’d anticipated when he’d bought them, and neither one of the men were good 
trainers.
Between herself and Marrec, they had the horses trusting them within an hour.
“Looks like Calli’s been teaching you that natural horsemanship deal,” Will 
said.
“Yes. She is an exceptional woman.”
Roy narrowed his eyes. “I’ve heard of that natural stuff. Never paid much 
attention to it, but you guys…” He shook his head. “What a display of 
horsemanship. Horsewomanship. Those horses actually follow you around now.”
Marrec bowed and said, “Thank you.”
Calli said, “These are the basics. I’ll have to brush up on my skills to work 
them to be cutters.” Then she heard what she’d said, caught the glance Roy and 
her dad exchanged, and rushed on, “Just for a little while.” And felt stupid.
Taking her hand, Marrec lifted her fingers—which smelled like horse—and kissed 
them. “Until we move on. I need a shower.”
“Yes,” Calli said.
While they cleaned up and changed for supper, clouds rolled in, the wind whipped 
up and the sky darkened to leaden gray. Summertime in the Rockies.
Dinner was a stiff and silent meal. Dora had poked and poked at Calli until Roy 
turned red and refused to look at Calli or Marrec, clearly unsettled by his 
mother’s rude behavior. The older woman finally asked point-blank of Marrec what 
his and Calli’s plans were. He looked at her coolly, then replied that they were 
still considering.
At that point, Calli pulled out Marrec’s new wallet from his equally new jeans 
and put a hundred-dollar bill on the table. “This is for our room and board for 
the rest of the week.” Surely they’d be back on Lladrana by then.
Roy choked on a bite of food, her dad’s expression went stony, that she was 
paying for hospitality that should have been free. It was an insult, but Calli 
reckoned they’d be mercenary enough to take the money and ignore any hurt 
feelings. Dora burst into tears and fled upstairs. Calli and Marrec remained 
behind but didn’t speak.
When the storm rolled over them, she could almost think it was there to relieve 
her own tension. The sky was darker, the network of lightning huger than she’d 
ever seen. She’d heard of boiling clouds, but had never believed in the phrase 
until now. The wild wind puffed up curves of black clouds then tore them apart. 
She shouldn’t be standing at the large plate-glass windows of the living room.
Beside her, Marrec said, “Beautiful.”
“Yes.” She frowned. Both her father and Roy were upstairs—with the hundred 
bucks—soothing Dora. “I think we should check the stables. Let’s make sure the 
horses are fine.” She pulled the curtains to protect the room from flying glass 
if the window broke. She’d look in the storage shed to see if her dad still had 
large pieces of plywood there.
A crack of thunder, the pelleting of rain against the window, had her hurrying 
to the mudroom. She pulled on her slicker and boots in record time, while Marrec 
took her father’s coat.
They ran through a pummeling deluge to the stable, grinned at each other when 
they were dry. Together, they checked each stall. The horses were nervous, but a 
touch of the hand, a murmured word soothed them.
Calli opened the door wide enough for her and Marrec to look out at the 
downpour.
“Let’s wait a little!” he shouted over the pounding rain.
She nodded, then glanced up at the hillside. Lightning struck the hill again and 
again as if drawn to it.
The crystal! Their way back home!
Calli plunged from the stable, slipping and sliding in the mud of the yard, 
running toward the hill, wordlessly screaming her fear.
Marrec tackled her. Held her down under his body as she fought and bucked to get 
away, run to her hope of returning to Lladrana.
Finally he pressed hard on her, every muscle of his body subduing hers. His wet 
hands wiped hair and rain from her eyes, framed her face. “Look at me!”
She blinked and did. His face was hard and impassive, as it always was when he 
felt the most. Instinctively she listened for his Song and found it fast, like 
his heartbeat, yet he wasn’t frightened—at least not about the crystal.
“It’s dangerous there! You’re not going up.”
She wriggled a little under his weight. He didn’t budge. “Promise me. We’re 
going back into the house.”
Calli realized he was speaking Lladranan. “The crystal!”
“We cannot prevent whatever happens.”
She didn’t want to believe that. “Our return home!”
Still expressionless, he said, “We’ll discuss that later, inside.”
Hope crumpled inside her. She’d once loved this land more than anything else in 
the world, more than her father, even, but now it was no longer her home. 
Everything she cherished was not in this world, her children, her friends—except 
for this man, her husband.
Marrec’s eyes, dark brown and steady—he was so steady—held hers, calmed her. 
He’d help her get through this. They’d help each other. Their Songs surged and 
twined together and all she could hear was their Song. The Song of the Chevalier 
Exotique Pair.
He leaned down and brushed her lips with his own. His warm tongue swept across 
her mouth and she opened it. The kiss was warm and comforting, reminding her of 
their bond, all the things they’d accomplished together. Now she put her hands 
on his face and gave, letting her fears go. With her stroking fingers, her mouth 
nibbling at his, she told this man she trusted him, she loved him. They would 
find whatever they needed together.
It was right.
He ended the kiss, then rolled off her and pulled her to her feet in one quick 
and easy move. They ran for the front door, opened it and stepped inside to drip 
on the small linoleum square entryway.
Her father, Dora and Roy looked at them.
“We checked on the horses,” she said.
Roy chuckled. “Looks to me like that wasn’t the only thing you did.”
She stared at him, this interloper, this young man who would have everything 
she’d ever wanted, the ranch, her father’s affection and respect. His aura 
showed he was a good man, one who would take care of what once she’d considered 
hers.
Her time here had passed, and she could give over her dreams of the ranch to 
Roy—letting him make of the place whatever he wanted—in peace. She nodded to him 
and smiled. “Maybe we copped a feel or two.”
He cocked his head as if sensing her change in attitude. Then he grinned. 
“What’s a good storm if it doesn’t stir us up?”
Since it was exactly her opinion, she grinned back.
Dora made a disapproving noise. “You’re dripping all over the floor. You should 
have come in by way of the mudroom.”
But the front door had been closest.
“Go dry off and change,” Dora said.
Marrec helped Calli off with her coat, then hung his slicker on the hook beside 
hers. She turned away from her father and helped Marrec off with his beautiful 
boots.
When she and Marrec entered their bedroom, neither of them turned on the light. 
Calli went to the bathroom and pulled towels from the rack, drying herself, then 
going to her husband and wiping him down, so their clothes would be easier to 
take off. Though it was the end of summer and hot, being downstairs in her wet 
clothes had chilled her. Up here was better. She handed him a couple of towels 
and they both skinned out of their clothes, dried off and started dressing 
again.
“The crystal had been tuned. Maybe that’s why the lightning was attracted to 
it.”
She blinked. “What do you mean?”
“The crystal had been tuned. I have heard of Mirror Magic. Someone tuned the 
crystal to be able to watch this place as well to be a portal on the Lladrana 
side of the corridor.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. Someone Powerful.”
“But, but I looked in the crystal all of my life, why didn’t it break before?”
He frowned. “You must not have felt it when we came through, since you are part 
of both Lladranan and Earthen Power, but I did. The crystal had been tuned on 
this side, too, more recently.”
Her mouth dropped open. She definitely needed to suck in more air to make her 
brain consider Earth Power. She’d read Marian’s story, but supposed she’d 
disregarded the parts that didn’t make sense, like magic here on Earth. Calli 
hadn’t tried to do much magic, only used what came naturally, like her “gift” 
with horses. Marian was the type who’d consider experimentation.
“Been tuned recently?” Her voice was high. “How recently?”
Marrec shrugged. “I’m not a Circlet, I don’t know.”
“Before I left or after?”
His brows dipped deeper. “I think both.”
“Oh, wow.” She dropped to sit on the bed in her underwear. “What does that 
mean?”
“You’ve seen Lladrana through that crystal for years. I can only think that’s 
the Singer’s doing.” He shrugged but it was more of a shudder, then he dragged 
on a T-shirt and covered it with a chambray shirt. “That the crystal was tuned 
recently…I don’t know if someone from Singer’s Abbey came through then went 
back, or…”
“Or what?”
“Or there is someone here.”
It was Calli’s turn to shiver. “Oh, I can’t think that’s right.”
“Okay.” He sat down next to her and scooped her up and put her on his lap. They 
sat there a moment. Calli wanted to relax against him, to hear the steady beat 
of his heart, but she just couldn’t.
“But I wish it were so.” She sniffed, wiped her face with the towel. “That 
someone here knew how to get us back. What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“I can’t do a ritual like Marian. I’ve never made one up. Have you?”
“I don’t know how to return us to Lladrana.” That sounded torn from him. She 
circled him with her arms. Calli bit her lip, hard.
His body was tense, he held her tight. When he let out a breath some of his fear 
went with it. “We will teach ourselves. Find a place of Power.”
She thought a minute. “There’s Marian’s apartment.” She grimaced. “Though she 
never wrote of the actual address, and it’s probably rented.”
“Perhaps.”
“I won’t give up,” she said fiercely. “We may be forced into some sort of normal 
life, but I won’t give up. If I have to study to be a damn Circlet.”
“We will never give up,” he agreed. “But for now, there’s only one thing we can 
do. Proceed with plans here.”
“As if we’ll stay forever?” She could barely say the words.
“Aye—Yes. And plan for the next few weeks.”
She licked her lips. “The next few weeks…You don’t know how to get us back, and 
I don’t either. So we’ll have to hope they want us…” She tried not to think of 
her father, of rejection, of circles and cycles in life. “And Summon us home.”
“Best not to hope too much.”
They loved, then slept.
 
Alexa called a meeting midmorning the next day. They gathered in the shady 
cloister, in the corner where the keep wall met the round wall of the northeast 
tower. The men weren’t yet concerned about Calli and Marrec going to Earth, so 
the group was all women. Alexa herself, Marian, Lady Knight Swordmarshall 
Thealia and Lady Hallard.
Tea and cookies were served, and like the fighters that most of them were, they 
ate when they got a chance. After inhaling two cookies—they were snickerdoodles, 
which weren’t her favorite—Alexa brought up the topic. “How are we going to get 
them back?”
“I’m not sure that is the correct question,” Thealia said. “The question can 
very well be, ‘Should we bring her back?’”
“That’s cold,” Marian said.
Thealia merely raised her eyebrows. “She is an excellent trainer, but some of us 
now know her techniques—”
“I wouldn’t bet on that.” Alexa stuck out her chin.
“And she has already found and surveyed the Dark’s location for you, hasn’t 
she?” Marian’s voice was soft with disgust.
“For us all,” Thealia said evenly. “And since she has left we’ve had no threats 
within the Castle to anyone, and no battles of any kind.”
“I think that’s significant in itself,” Marian said.
Lady Hallard snorted. “So, Swordmarshall, it doesn’t look as if the Marshalls 
will try a Summoning.”
Thealia’s nostrils flared before she answered. “The last ‘return’ Summoning of 
you, Marian, was made possible because you were performing a ritual yourself. 
That effort included Marshalls, Chevaliers and Circlets. And we paid for it.”
“And I paid for it, too. Both before and after. In full.” Marian sat with 
straight and perfect posture in her chair. She blinked, then a little frown line 
formed between her brows. “But I’ve read the notes Calli has been keeping for 
her Lorebook of Exotiques. She came through a crystal. A portal to the 
dimensional corridor, perhaps.”
“That’s something you Sorcerers and Sorceresses can work on,” Lady Hallard said.
“We will!”
“But in what time frame?” Hallard stretched, crossed her legs at her ankles. “We 
Chevaliers don’t have the teamwork, experience or Power to Summon Calli on our 
own.”
“And Marrec!” Alexa snapped.
“Calli and Marrec,” Lady Hallard agreed. A small smile played about her lips. 
“But every single day that Calli was here, we heard how she was the Volaran 
Exotique. Let them bring her back.”
Alexa’s mouth dropped open. She glanced at Marian to see her rapidly blinking, 
considering all sorts of plans, options, spells, Songs, but she seemed 
surprised, too.
Rapid hoofbeats sounded and they turned to see Thunder trotting down the 
cloister walk. Even Thealia’s eyes went wide.
He stopped and snorted, his head going up and fixing his dark gaze on them all. 
And so we shall. Perhaps. At the proper time. We, too, can form a Circle. We, 
too, can Summon.
“Then why didn’t you before?” Lady Hallard jerked from her slouch.
Humans had to want her, too. Chevaliers. To work with us. To work with the 
Marshalls and the Tower. He beat a little tattoo on the flagstones, causing 
sparks, then ran and jumped out the next open cloister window.
Mouth twitching, Alexa said, “Guess that told us.” She turned to the others. 
“Marian, are the children still with you?”
“For the moment.”
“Good.” A touch of glee spritzed through her as she stood. “It will be 
interesting to see when and how the volarans bring our Volaran Exotique and her 
bondmate back. But then, we might not see it at all. Now the matter is 
completely out of our hands. Thealia and Lady Hallard, you might want to 
remember in the future that no Exotique is ever without options…or friends. 
Whether here or on Exotique Terre.” When a thought occurred to her, she spoke to 
Marian. “Exotique Circlet, what number of us Exotiques do you think it would 
take to Summon another?”
“How many Exotiques does it take to screw in a lightbulb?” Marian murmured in 
English.
Alexa choked a laugh.
Marian lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know,” she replied in Lladranan. Then she 
lifted her brows. “But I will definitely figure that out.”
Nodding, Alexa shoved her hands in her pockets. “You might want to draft a 
Summoning Song for us.”
“Ayes, ayes.” Marian was already scribbling on parchment. “Songs for groups of 
three, four, five of us. I don’t think just the two of us could do it now, 
without more connection.” She glanced up at Alexa, eyes serious. “It’s too bad 
Calli didn’t bond with us, too, before she left.”
“Uh-huh,” Alexa said—an English phrase she’d introduced into Lladranan and was 
now well known. “I bet Calli is thinking that, too.”
39 
T hat same idea had occurred to Calli late that afternoon and she cursed.
“What?” asked Marrec.
“How many people are you bloodbonded to?” she asked. They were up on the 
hillside. Only shards of the crystal remained, none of them larger than three 
inches. Nevertheless, they’d tried reaching out to Lladrana again.
Marrec rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “Some bloodbonding occurs when you fight 
on a battlefield and you and another share a kill, or drip blood on each other. 
That’s the least amount of connection. In that way, quite a few. I swore an oath 
to Lady Hallard, but did not actually bloodbond with her.”
“Were you ever an apprentice?”
“Stable boy,” he said shortly. “Never noble enough or well connected enough to 
be a squire. My master is long dead.”
“Oh-kay.” She shook her head. “I should have bonded with Alexa and Marian. With 
that bond…”
Marrec placed his hand around the nape of her neck. “You gave of yourself to 
many.”
“To too many, you thought,” she said gruffly.
“True. Had I but known…”
“Yeah.” She kicked some of the crystal off the cliff. “Well, no use hanging 
around here, do you think?”
“No.” He squinted into the distance. “They will either Summon us or not.”
“Let’s settle everything about the ranch tonight, then.”
He turned to her, cradled her face in his hands. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. We’ve talked about…about how much we want from Dad. I called Bert 
yesterday and the investments have done well.” A long sigh emptied her breath. 
She put her hands on his wrists. “We should have enough to buy a ranch, start a 
training program.” Stepping back, she scanned the land she loved. “Not here. Not 
in Colorado. Montana. Idaho, maybe.” She managed a smile. “We can look for 
properties on the Internet tonight. Wait ’til you see that.”
 
Waiting got on Alexa’s nerves—and it showed in her work with the horses and 
volarans. They were all pretty much irritated with her by midafternoon. She sat 
alone in the indoor arena and watched the mare teach the only filly in the 
Castle some flying patterns. Since the filly was learning just like her, and 
since the little volaran was supposed to be her destined steed, Alexa figured 
that she provided moral support to the youngster. And it was cool in the arena. 
And private.
Clip-clip-clip. Alexa didn’t have to look to know who was coming. Of course, 
their sister bloodbond preceded Marian, too, but Alexa recognized her from her 
footsteps. Only Marian could make soft slippers sound like professional high 
heels.
“Ayes?” she asked when Marian stopped next to her.
“I think we should fly to Volaran Valley.”
Alexa felt waves of curiosity and anticipation emanating from Marian. “You think 
so?”
“You’re impatient.”
“Tell me about it.”
“So am I.”
Standing, Alexa said, “You think we should get this show on the road?”
“I think events need a little prodding.”
“Okay.”
“And,” Marian said, “since we’re the only ones who are concerned, I think just 
we two should visit the valley.”
A laugh bubbled up from Alexa. “No guys allowed.”
Marian sniffed. “They don’t seem to be taking this seriously.”
“I’ll meet you in the Landing Field in half an hour.”
Alexa waited for Marian in the deepest shadows of the Landing Field. Their 
winged horses stood quiet, with a lot less tack on them than usual. Since this 
was what Calli had considered best for rider and volaran, and since they were 
going to the home of the volarans, Alexa deemed it politic to follow Calli’s 
instructions.
Marian arrived without notice, touched Alexa’s arm, and she jumped. “I’m ready,” 
Marian said.
“Me, too. Jaquar?”
Marian’s smile gleamed. “Sleeping the sleep of the very well satisfied.”
“Great minds think alike. So’s Bastien.”
“Shall we go?”
“Let’s ride.”
Even using Distance Magic, they didn’t drop through the Volaran Valley security 
shield until a half hour before sunset. The place was breathtaking, shades of 
green dotted with colorful flowers. The herd of volarans—all ages—looked 
incredible.
Their descent was very slow, made of ever-narrowing circles. Providing the 
maximum visibility, Alexa thought, and knew her mount was speaking 
telepathically to the others—maybe one, maybe many, but Alexa wasn’t conversant 
enough in Equine to catch the stream of thought. She looked over to Marian, who 
shrugged.
They lit in the middle of the field. As soon as they dismounted, their steeds 
deserted them, and the rest of the herd turned toward them.
They stood alone.
Alexa wasn’t entirely sure, but she thought that Marian’s knees trembled just as 
much as her own. Well, maybe not. Marian had owned horses, after all. Or her 
mother had. Duh. She, herself, was dithering.
But she didn’t think she’d ever seen such an awe-inspiring sight in her life as 
a herd of volarans closing in on her from all sides.
Marian reached out and fumbled for Alexa’s fingers. “Thanks,” Alexa muttered 
from the corner of her mouth. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s nervous.”
“Not at all,” Marian said, her voice higher than usual.
Alexa swallowed. “Volarans are littler than regular horses, right?”
“Mostly. Dark Lance is larger—They’re galloping straight toward us!” She ended 
on a squeak.
“I see that.” Alexa herself had nearly lost her voice as her mouth dried.
“What should we do? We can’t be aggressive!”
“Shut our eyes?”
Marian snorted, caught dust, coughed. “Impressive, oh, Exotique Swordmarshall.”
“Yup. ’Zactly what I’m going to do. Shut my eyes. Good decision.” She did, and 
immediately noticed Marian’s personal Song spiraling high, wide and loud. Alexa 
clung to Marian’s fingers and kept her other hand from her jade baton.
The thunder of hooves came closer and closer.
Then stopped.
Her eyelids flew open. A volaran was inches from her—face-to-face. She stumbled 
back and was shoved to her feet by a long head hard in her back. “Uhn!”
All around her volarans laughed, mentally, rolling their eyes, and making noises 
that had bubbles coming from their noses and drool dripping from their mouths. 
Disgusting.
Marian laughed, too.
Alexa was about to huff out some comment, when the horses parted in front of 
her, forming an aisle for a small gray mare to glide toward them. The mare 
lowered, then raised her head. Well done, Exotiques. Standing your ground.
“I guess she’s the alpha. They have alphas, don’t they?” Alexa squeezed Marian’s 
hand.
I am Lead flier, the mare said, coming up a little too close. Alexa figured 
volaran personal space and American-woman personal space was different.
“Right,” she said. “Good.”
You are concerned that we are not Summoning the Volaran Exotique and the Lead 
Mind-speaker back. 
“Lead Mind-speaker is Marrec,” Marian clarified.
The mare nodded. Indeed.
Alexa wanted to put her hand on her baton, but instead she lifted her chin. 
“Ayes. We are concerned that you do not Summon Calli and Marrec.”
And you spread that concern to Gray-Clouds-That-May-Rain-Or-Thunder-Or-Clear and 
One-Who-Will-Be-The-Dark-Lance-At-Evil and other younglings. She bent her neck 
back and forth around the circle, scolding in her gaze. Some of the volarans 
rustled their wings and sidled back.
The names made Alexa realize just how out of her element she was. “Oh, boy.”
I will answer your questions. 
Marian cleared her throat, and when she spoke it was with words and mind. “We 
know that Calli had a…portal to and from Exotique Terre.”
The mare swished her tail. The crystal mountain. The Singer’s crystal. It has 
been destroyed—from Exotique Terre.
Alexa stepped forward into the mare’s space, narrowed her predator eyes on the 
front of her face and looked at the prey eyes on the side of the head. 
“Destroyed! Is Calli—”
We would know if the Volaran Exotique and the Lead Mind-speaker were harmed, 
even on such a backward place as Exotique Terre. They are well. 
“Backward?” murmured Marian.
Exotique Terre has no volarans. 
Now Alexa cleared her throat. “Good point.”
“You know of the crystal portal?” asked Marian.
Of course. The crystal portal shaped the one who would become the Volaran 
Exotique. 
Alexa knew that the crystal had been on Calli’s ranch. How many others could it 
have worked upon? How did it work? She decided to let Marian consider those 
questions. For her, this was getting way too mystical.
“And you said it’s destroyed.” Marian turned in place and Alexa followed her, 
looking at the herd. “It’s my understanding that when the Snap comes, a person 
is returned if they are not willing to live in Lladrana.”
The mare lifted her lips to show her gums. It looked like a smile—sort of—to 
Alexa. Maybe a snide one.
Exotique Circlet, you proved that wrong yourself. Or did you? You found a way 
back…if the yearning and the need is great enough… 
“Back to ruby slipper time,” Alexa muttered. “Just give us the bottom line. Are 
you folks…uh…volarans going to Summon them back or not?”
Perhaps at the proper time we will form a circle and Sing. 
“When—” Marian started.
With a quick turn, the mare reversed. She kicked up clods of dirt that landed on 
their boots, then cantered away. The volaran circle surrounding them broke up 
into clumps. Alexa waited until she thought they were all out of earshot before 
saying, “Well, this was a futile trip.”
“Not necessarily,” Marian said. Alexa thought she meant to sound calm, but a 
tightness around her eyes gave away her irritation. “Negative data can always be 
informative.”
“Huh. Sounded more like a ‘Patience, grasshopper’ situation to me.”
Marian laughed, flung her arm around Alexa’s shoulders and hugged. “Good one.”
“Thanks.” Alexa let out a relieved sigh, stroked her baton and looked around. 
“But it wasn’t a total waste of time. This place is absolutely beautiful. Think 
we can squeeze out a little more time to walk and observe, maybe talk to the 
anim—volarans? There are a lot more here, appearing a little different than 
those at the Castle.” She took off at a good clip to the sunny side of the 
valley toward a bunch of volarans who raised their wings, then moved off. Marian 
kept up.
“I think it depends upon the volarans,” Marian said.
Pounding hooves attracted Alexa’s attention. Their mounts were running toward 
them. “Doesn’t look like we’re real welcome.” A wistful sigh escaped her. “Calli 
said in her notes that she was invited to stay as long as she wanted, right? And 
to return whenever she wished?”
“Correct. But neither of us are Calli.”
“Got that right.” Still, just because, and just for fun, Alexa unsnapped her 
baton sheath, took out the jade baton and threw it up into the sky. She watched 
it sparkle as it tumbled end over end, the symbol of her life, herself, here in 
Lladrana. Caught it with a light smack in her palm. “You got that right. But we 
have our own places.”
“Indeed we do.”
“And if they don’t get Calli back, we will. Somehow.”
“That’s right.”
 
Bastien and Jaquar were waiting for them when they descended toward the Landing 
Field. Actually, the men were two figures separate from a large group. Alexa 
noticed the colors of no less than twenty Marshall Pairs, and high-ranking 
Chevaliers such as Lady Hallard and Faucon Creusse. Oddly enough, Luthan wasn’t 
there. Alexa reckoned that was significant, but decided to let Marian deduce the 
significance. The Singer already knew the results? Had known before they’d left? 
Closemouthed old biddy.
Bastien had a certain tilt to his head. “Oh, man, he’s gonna make me pay,” she 
said to Marian.
Marian sighed. “Jaquar’s not too happy with me, either.”
“I’ll offer him a sex game. One sex game.”
Marian sent her a startled glance. “A sex game?”
“Beats long, long minutes of tickling.”
“Is that so?” She looked thoughtful. “Sex-game payment works for you.”
Melty heat warmed Alexa. “Oh, yeah.”
Marian nodded decisively, a smile hovering on her mouth. “I think I’ll give it a 
try.”
They touched down. Bastien lifted her from the saddle, kept his hands on her 
waist. “What did you learn?”
“Not much.” Alexa rubbed her butt. “It’s been a long ride. Marian will lay it 
all out better than I can.”
“Thanks, former lawyer,” Marian said. Definitely a long ride if Marian was being 
sarcastic.
“Alexa…” Bastien started.
She tapped her forefinger three times over his heart. One sex game of your 
choice.
He was suitably distracted and began lowering his mouth to hers, when Jaquar’s 
superior tone cut through Alexa’s haze of desire.
“While you were gone, Bastien and I worked a few spellsongs of our own.”
“So?” Marian had crossed her arms under her breasts. Jaquar looked at them with 
a twinkle in his eyes, but said, “We found out that Calli and Marrec were 
‘helped’ a little back to Exotique Terre during her Snap, by Power. ‘Magic’ as 
you would say, of the highest order.”
Marian’s eyes widened, her lips parted, Jaquar basked in her fascinated 
attention. “What magic?”
Bastien chuckled and squeezed Alexa as she waited for the punch line.
“Singer’s magic.”
That was a punch, all right.
 
After they cleared up the supper dishes and before her dad and Dora and Roy left 
the kitchen, Marrec said, “We wish to speak with you about the future of the 
ranch.” His English was careful, lightly accented.
40 
D read swirled around the room, tightening faces. No one wanted the 
confrontation, but it, like the storm last night, could not be avoided and the 
land would be better for it after it passed.
Roy tensed. His shoulders tight, he shrugged, tried a half smile that was just a 
mask. “Not my business. I’ll be upstairs, studying.”
“All right…” Her dad’s voice was rusty and he reached for Dora’s hand. They 
stood together.
“In the living room, then,” Dora said.
Calli looked at them, understood that if she had faced this unit of her father 
and another woman months ago, she might have been emotionally damaged beyond 
repair. She was stronger now.
Dora and her dad left first, then Marrec pulled her into his arms and kissed her 
soundly. She leaned against him, felt the tensile strength of him, glad of the 
physical support that so mirrored his emotional backing. Then they went into the 
living room.
Her dad and Dora sat on the new love seat, Calli and Marrec went to the sagging 
couch set at a right angle.
Calli looked at her father steadily. Though he sat holding his new wife’s hand, 
his aura and hers mingled with love, there was nothing of love for Calli in his 
eyes. She wondered why. Because she was too much like her mother? Too much like 
him? Had given him all her love freely? She didn’t know, and she was coming not 
to care and that was good.
Dora’s mouth tightened. “Give her a check for a quarter of the place, Will, then 
let them be on their way.”
“Half,” Marrec said in his careful English. “Calli and I went over the figures 
last night. She gave a lot of money to her father. Worth half the ranch.”
Not quite, and Dad had done all the upkeep, all the work.
Gasping, Dora put her hand to her plump bosom. “You can’t believe that!”
Marrec nodded. “Yes.”
“You’re nothin’ but a greedy—” She stopped her bitter words when Will looked 
down on her. She clutched his arm, simpered up at him. “Oh, Will, all your hard 
work. You love the land so!”
Did he? A shadow dimmed the bright blueness of his eyes. He did. He might have 
not known when he’d taken out the reverse mortgage, might have only discovered 
it when Dora and her son had come into his life, but he knew now.
Calli stood. “I have tallies of the rodeos I competed in, and my winnings. I’ve 
spoken a little to Jim at the bank. He knows the value of the place better than 
I do, but wants to talk to all of us if we disagree on what my fair share is.”
Dora frowned. Calli bet she knew the worth of the ranch down to the last penny, 
had known it before she’d married Will. She wouldn’t want fair. She’d want more.
“I’d like to keep this between us. Quick and clean.” And get somewhere they 
might be able to go back to Lladrana. “I don’t really want everyone else in town 
to know that I mean to fight you for this place.”
Dora wouldn’t like that. Right now the town had a favorable opinion of her and 
her son. It was pretty evident that Calli and Marrec would leave, and Dora, Roy 
and her dad would live with whatever gossip came of this whole thing.
“Give Calli what she put in and we will go,” Marrec said. “This place will be 
yours.” He laid his hand on her thigh in support. He knew she loved the land, 
would want it more than money, would have fought for it. This was her 
concession. She linked fingers with his.
Will grunted and named a figure. It was a lot less than half, not as much as 
Calli had put into the place, but higher than the final price she and Marrec had 
decided to accept, still they would need as much as they could get to start 
their own ranch.
Marrec leaned forward. “Let’s talk about this.”
Calli wanted to shift in her seat, to squirm, but knew that would be showing a 
weakness and like it or not, she couldn’t be weak in front of her dad and Dora. 
There was only one person in this world she thought she could be vulnerable 
before.
The bargaining lasted a whole lot longer than she was comfortable with, but the 
men were involved and Dora sharply followed the discussion. Calli kept her teeth 
gritted and her mouth shut. Marrec fumbled, pretended less comprehension of the 
language than he had.
Finally, finally a price was agreed to. Something she wouldn’t have been able to 
reach with her dad. She leaned back against the couch and Marrec’s arm draped 
around her shoulders as she watched her dad, still expressionless, walk stiffly 
across to the desk, pull out the ranch checkbook and write out a draft.
Still silent, he returned to them and handed Marrec the check. Calli was glad to 
see her dad’s hand didn’t tremble.
Marrec glanced at it and passed it to Calli. She read the figure and her eyes 
stung. She’d never wanted money for this place.
But her home here was gone and any claim she had to the land was past. She 
nodded and stood, slipping the check into her jeans pocket. “Good.” Clearing her 
throat, she angled her head toward the computers on the desk, and said, “Marrec 
and I would like to take a look at real estate on the Web.”
With a tight-lipped smile, Dora said, “Of course.”
Calli and Marrec settled in front of the computer, while Dora turned on the TV.
Calli’s skills were a little rusty, so she went slow, explaining to Marrec as 
she went along in a mixture of English and Lladranan. With a glance at her 
father and Dora, who were engrossed in TV, Calli pulled up Web sites on Boulder, 
where Marian had lived and had been Summoned to, returned from and went once 
more to Lladrana. Marrec stared at the photos, going so far as to touch the 
screen showing the university campus and the Flatirons in the background. “I 
don’t think…” He frowned, exhaled. “A place of Power, yes, but not for us. 
It…it…has few notes in common with the crystal on the hillside.”
“You remember that melody?” Calli stared at him.
He rolled a shoulder. “Well enough.”
She let her breath out. “Oh-kay.”
They looked at Berthoud Pass. Alexa had been Summoned from that area, but, 
again, they didn’t know specifics. Calli frowned, something teased at her 
memory, but it faded away. Dammit! If they ever got back, Calli would make sure 
the women damn well added directions of where they’d been Summoned from.
Touching her hand on the mouse, Marrec said, “It’s time we look for land. We 
can’t stay here for long.”
She bit her lip and went to a horse properties Web site. Marrec looked to her 
dad and Dora and back, then ran his fingers over the small images on the screen, 
shook his head.
Calli nodded and tried another site. On the sixth Web site, Marrec tapped the 
computer. “Here.” His voice was low and strained. “Here is our best chance.” His 
lips pressed together tightly, then he gazed at Calli. “It resonates a little 
like the crystal, a few notes of my own Song, a little of Diaminta’s. But much 
of you…and Jetyer the most of all.”
Her heart gave a hard thump in her chest. “You think we could form a good ritual 
there?”
His gaze stayed firm, calm. “I think it’s our best chance.”
Sighing, Calli pulled up the particulars, winced. “A big piece of property, just 
a trailer for housing, stables for six horses. It’s costly.”
“Beautiful mountains.”
“Yes.” She clicked on various views of the place. The scenery did call to her. 
It wasn’t here and it wasn’t Lladrana, but…
“Yes.”
 
The rain came in the night, clouds opening with huge washes of fat, pounding 
raindrops and rolling thunder. Alexa sat in the tiny pavilion of the Brithenwood 
Garden at the Castle, watching the storm, cradling a cup of hot tea in her 
hands.
A huge crack of sound smacked her. Lightning struck two feet from her, then 
Marian stood where the blue-white light had seared the ground. Alexa choked on 
her tea, coughed.
Marian strode into the small structure and thumped her on the back.
Alexa gasped, “Some way to travel. You really will have to teach me how 
sometime.”
“How about now?”
A squeak escaped Alexa as second thoughts rushed into her head. She noticed 
Marian’s grim expression, reached for the teapot on the table.
“Actually, I’d rather have brandy.” Marian lifted a window seat and pulled out a 
decanter and snifter and went about pouring herself a stiff drink.
“What’s wrong?” Alexa’s hand went to her baton.
“The children are gone.”
“What!”
“Calli’s. Children. Are. Gone.”
“Ohmygod!” 
Marian slugged down some liquor, shivered. “We were all at Bossgond’s Tower. 
Bossgond and Jaquar and I were trying to locate Calli’s ranch through the 
cross-dimensional telescope. The children were only a floor below.”
Still stunned, Alexa blinked rapidly, trying to wring some sense to this story. 
“But…but Bossgond has Powerful Shields around his Tower. No one of evil intent 
can enter. At least I didn’t think so….”
“Exactly right.” Marian’s mouth went flat. “There was no sound from the 
kidnapper. No outcry by the children. Naturally, as soon as we discovered they 
were gone we did a ‘Find’ Song. To no avail. Then we did a ‘Who Was Here 
Songspell.’” She pulled up a chair and sat.
“And you found out?”
“Luthan took the children.”
Alexa hopped to her feet. More and more fantastic. “Luthan!”
Marian’s lip curled. “We couldn’t reach him. He’s at the Singer’s Abbey. 
Jaquar’s at home, still trying to contact the Singer.”
“Luthan took the kids to the Singer’s Abbey?”
“We think so.”
“Why?”
Shrugging, Marian said, “Who knows.”
“That damn sneaky old bitch of a Singer.” Alexa paced. She wanted to hop on the 
nearest volaran, take to the stormy skies and fly to the Singer’s Abbey. But the 
oracle of Lladrana scared her spitless. “Hell.” She glanced out at the sky full 
of wind and sleeting rain and distant shards of lightning. “You really want me 
to ride the lightning with you?”
“We’re—Bossgond and Jaquar and I—aren’t sure what to do. We thought we had a 
line on Calli’s ranch. But someone should go to the Abbey tomorrow.”
Alexa cleared her throat. “I guess that means you want to stay and keep looking 
while I confront the Singer.”
Grimacing, Marian said, “Ayes. We really are close to finding Calli’s ranch. I 
think. One more day…”
“Your idea of close and mine aren’t the same.” Alexa huffed out a sigh. “I’ll 
go.” Then she smiled. “With luck, I can guilt Bastien into going with me, though 
he’s as nervous about the woman as I am.”
Marian joined Alexa in her pacing. “This whole business, Calli’s strange Snap, 
the volarans’ reluctance to Summon her and Marrec back—it all indicates great 
Power at work—the Song or Amee or the Singer or all three. I don’t like it.”
“I don’t, either.” Alexa licked her dry lips. “But I’ll go see what I can get 
out of the Singer…”
“Merci.” Marian went back out into the rain, and the droplets didn’t seem to 
touch her. A whirlwind of air scooped her up and she disappeared.
She hadn’t finished her brandy. Alexa poured it into her tea.
 
Calli couldn’t sleep. Her time here at the ranch grew shorter, and that was a 
concern…going somewhere new…but she’d had dreams of her children crying and 
awoke, tears on her cheeks. Marrec slept on and she was glad. She went 
downstairs for some milk. When she opened the door to the kitchen she saw Will 
sitting at the table. He looked up at her, stilled.
“Hi, D—” She’d almost said “Daddy.” “Hi, uh, Will.”
He didn’t look at her. “Calli.”
No comfort from him. Never had been. Never. All her night fears and old angers 
coalesced. She could do nothing about her children, but she could finally face 
her father. “You sold my horse that I loved!” burst from her. That last rankling 
betrayal.
Will glanced away. “I’m sorry for that now. Sorry for a lot of things.”
Calli’s knees trembled, weakened. She leaned back against the refrigerator. She 
blinked until the dizziness went away, then stared at him. She launched herself 
at him, hugged him tight. He stood stiff, touched her shoulder.
And Calli knew. Despite that she’d loved him all her life, that he’d been the 
only man in her heart before Marrec, Will’s heart had been scoured of emotion 
before Dora. He had a limited capacity to love and only his wife touched him. He 
felt affection for Roy, but nothing for Calli.
Nothing at all.
She stepped back, swallowed the last lingering hurt that she would inflict upon 
herself over this man, forced the pain from her gut into the earth, away from 
her, out of her forever. She wanted no bitterness in her life. She kept her eyes 
wide so the tears wouldn’t fall, hoped her dad—Will—wouldn’t see them. “We’ll be 
out of your way in a couple of days, as soon as we figure out our plans.”
“Calli, come back to bed,” Marrec said softly from the shadowed doorway. Calli 
turned on her heel and went to him. His arm came around her.
Will looked at them, held out his hand to Marrec. “Interestin’ meeting you.”
Marrec shook. “And you. Calli and I are thinking we will go to Montana.”
Relief passed through Will’s eyes. He nodded. “Plenty of pretty places in 
Montana.”
With a return nod, Marrec ended the conversation, and they walked to the door to 
the steep stairs up to their room. When it closed, Marrec handed Calli a 
bandana. She blew her nose and wiped her eyes.
“I love you,” he said.
She flung her arms around him, pressed herself to him. He held her tight, his 
body young and strong and vibrant against her. His sex hardened.
Their loving was hard and fast and quiet…and near violent, from an excess of 
feelings. Her hands roamed, aroused him ruthlessly, accepted no mercy from him. 
They joined and their bodies slicked and their mouths fused and they rode to 
staggering climax together. Pretending they were ready for another great change 
in their lives.
 
Calli woke to find Marrec gone and her heart lurched. He hadn’t ever left the 
room before. Straining all her senses, she found him riding to the north. Wait! 
She flung everything into the one Lladranan word. Wait. Please. Whatever had 
gone wrong with them, they’d been mending it. Yet now he was leaving—for good, 
oh, no, she didn’t think that. Not her practical husband who knew he’d need her 
to navigate the outside world, but he was on some errand of his own.
I wait. 
Calli slipped on her clothes, ran down to the fence around the house acreage and 
the cattle grate. There he sat, a dim figure in the dawn. Dressed in cowboy hat 
and boots and jeans, he should have looked like a cowboy. He didn’t. Something 
about the way he held himself would always be Lladranan. Had she looked that 
foreign on Lladrana? She supposed so, but she’d defend him fiercely.
She strode up to him, he tipped his hat and she almost smiled. “Where are you 
going?”
A touch of color came to his golden cheeks. Looking peachlike. She’d never tell 
him that.
“I heard a call. It comes from that ‘spread’ next door.”
“Bert’s place.”
“Yes, the Honorable Bert who has the fancy horses. I think it is the horse herd 
Song that is Calling me.”
Calli rubbed her eyes. “You’re dressed in dreeth leather.”
“I wish to impress him.” His gaze met hers with a darkly puzzled look. He stood 
straight. “I think I will want the horses. Now.”
“We hadn’t planned on buying horses yet. We need the property first. At that 
place, we might be able to return to Lladrana, we shouldn’t buy horses yet—”
“The horses Sing.”
She scrutinized him. He was the most pragmatic, logical man she’d ever known. 
“All right, then. I’ll go back to our room and get the check. We can sign it 
over to him if we want the horses, and he’ll deposit any overage to our account. 
We can trust him with the money.”
“Because he is an Honorable.”
Blinking, she said, “Yes, that’s his title. He’s a judge.” Once again something 
tugged at her memory. Something in Alexa’s book?
But Marrec was speaking. “A judge was in the building where you went to look at 
the land records.”
“The county courthouse. Several, I’m sure.”
“Judge James.”
Her brows went up. “You got around.”
He nodded.
“Okay, I’ll be right back.”
Smiling, he shifted and sent his horse back toward the stable. “I’ll ready your 
horse.”
She ran back to the house, her own lips curved. So many things to be grateful 
for. Marrec. To be able to see this place again. To be free emotionally of her 
father. As quietly as possible she hurried up the stairs. Her Pairling had shot 
their plans to hell. If they bought horses, it was almost certain they couldn’t 
afford the land. Snapping the hidden panel of the cabinet open, she jammed the 
check into her pocket. She trusted Marrec’s instincts. Somehow they’d make it 
work. Maybe they could rent-to-own the land. Maybe they’d find another place.
She grabbed the check, decided she wanted to show solidarity with Marrec and 
undressed, then yanked on her own Lladranan dreeth leathers.
Her horse was saddled by the time she came back.
“Thank you, Calli.”
They reached Bert’s ranch in about a half hour. The sun had risen, but the day 
was cloudy and gray. His arena had been repaired with new fencing freshly 
painted and the paddocks showed some electronic fencing. That was the last thing 
she noticed about Bert’s ranch.
The horses were absolutely gorgeous. No high-strung, high-bred Arabians 
these—what most folks thought of as “fancy horses,” but a breed that was more 
compact, powerful. More baroque.
Lipizzaners. Four mares and a gelding moved around the arena. Separate from them 
were two stallions. Two stallions!
One was in a large paddock, close to the arena, flirting with the mares. The 
other stallion was in a big stall.
How on earth had Bert gotten ahold of these magnificent animals? Why? Calli’d 
never heard that he was interested in the breed. He must be breeding them. Had 
to be. Dazed, she stopped, just watching the horses. They weren’t the 
warm-bloods and the quarter horses she was accustomed to.
Marrec continued on.
By the time Calli clucked to her mount to continue to the corral, Marrec stood 
laconically against the fence, with three mares’ noses waiting to be scratched.
She dismounted, tied her horse to a nearby tree and joined him—to feel tension 
humming in his body. Singing from him.
He wanted these horses.
41 
L isten to their Equine, he said.
Clear mind speech, again more intelligent, more curious than she was used to, 
whispered liquidly in her head. Good-smelling man. Fine. Fine. Beautiful woman. 
Very fine smell, but whiff of something scary.
They were wearing dreeth leathers.
Strange images. Winged equines. Flying us. Wings. Wings. Wings, whispered from 
many mind voices.
Calli blinked. The Lladranan leathers must give off a subtle scent of 
otherworldliness.
“Howdy,” said Bert.
Calli jumped. He walked quietly, an elegant man of middle age, still handsome, 
wearing ranch clothes, hat, boots. “Good to see you again,” he said to Calli.
Gesturing to Marrec, Calli said, “My husband, Marrec Gardpont.”
Marrec bowed stiffly.
“Pleased to meet you.” Bert opened the gate and entered the corral. “Come on 
in.”
Calli and Marrec went inside and the horses crowded around them, curious.
Easy, little ones, Marrec soothed.
A couple tossed their heads, whinnied, sidled backward. They weren’t used to 
hearing such perfect Equine.
They were fabulous. Now they kept a courteous distance from the humans as if 
they already accepted them as alphas, due to telepathic Equine and regular 
physical cues.
“Thanks for talking with me about my finances—and the great investments you made 
with my money,” Calli said stiltedly. She was finding it difficult to keep her 
eyes and mind and hands off the horses. The nearest stallion was rolling a 
come-hither eye.
“Like my babies?” Bert asked.
“Gorgeous. Are they for sale?”
He rubbed his chin, glanced up at the low-slung ranch house. Calli thought it 
had been spruced up, too. A lacy curtain fluttered. He hadn’t had lace at the 
windows before, had he?
Come say hello, cooed a mare.
She did, stroking the horse from top to tail, loving the animal’s conformation. 
Compact. Powerful. Fluid. Intelligent.
“Yes, they’re for sale,” Bert said.
Calli was jolted back to the here and now. His smile was easy, but his eyes 
sharp.
She calculated their expenses. They might be able to talk the Montana ranch 
owner into renting, or selling a portion of the land—the part that might lead 
back to Lladrana and their children. If they lived in that pitiful trailer and 
did a lot of the work themselves…and Calli pulled in every favor she might have 
in Montana, and spread word she was setting up as a trainer…
Sidling casually over to Marrec, she brushed her shoulder against his. He 
glanced down, face expressionless.
She quoted a figure. “That should buy them all,” she said in Lladranan.
His dark eyes lit, softened. “I thought only two.”
Her smile was easy. “You want them all.”
His glance flicked to the horses, back to her. “Ayes.”
“We’ll put our money in the horses. Less house.”
He nodded.
“Now you bargain. You’re better at it.”
The smile she loved formed slowly on his face. “We’ll do it together.” Once 
again he glanced at the horses. “I think we’ll have to walk away, then come 
back. You can nail him down at the end.”
Bert said, “You really interested in buying them? They’re all registered and I 
have official pedigrees.”
That sounded like an opening to negotiate to her.
Marrec stepped forward, eyes gleaming. He kept his voice slow, but as the men 
dickered, Calli realized that Marrec had changed his strategy…and showed much 
more respect for the man than he had her father. Her Pairling did indeed gesture 
her to leave and she let out a long breath and drooped a little as she untied 
her mount, Marrec walking slowly to the arena gate before Bert impatiently 
called them back.
Finally, Bert pushed his hat back on his head, took a straw and twirled it. 
Though he was a big-city guy, there was just enough rancher in him not to make 
him look too stupid doing that. “We’ll even throw in the fancy saddles. Millana 
and Pluto won’t be ridden without them.” He gestured to saddles resting on the 
top fence rail. The tack was the strangest and fanciest getup Calli had ever 
seen and she stared from one to the other. The stallion’s saddle was 
midnight-blue leather worked in gold, with edgings of scarlet. Squinting, she 
thought she saw suns, moons, stars and…the spiral of a tornado? The mare’s 
saddle reversed the colors, being mostly scarlet and gold with blue facings—and 
symbols of musical notes? Her heart picked up a beat and she couldn’t tear her 
gaze away from the tooling that almost made sense, until she heard the slap of 
hands and she looked over to see the two men shaking on the deal.
“Why don’t you ride ’em back to the Rocking Bar T, try ’em out. Take the rest on 
a line. Looks like they’ll follow you. I’ll keep Will’s horses here until you 
can pick them back up,” Bert said.
Calli looked at the Lipizzaners. They were gorgeous. Her whole body itched to 
get on one.
“Yes,” said Marrec. She sensed he wanted to put her past—and Will—behind them 
and ride out on their future. Then he cleared his throat. “One moment,” Marrec 
said. He strode over and picked Calli up, brought her back to the arena and set 
her down before Bert.
“What?”
Patting her on the shoulder, he went to the horse he’d ridden and opened the 
saddlebag, withdrew the fabulous white beaded scarf she’d seen in the store 
window and draped it over her shoulders. He jumped over the fence and stood by 
her side, taking her hands.
Marrec stared at Bert. “I’ve heard that you are one who can listen to marriage 
vows.”
Calli’s heart beat hard.
Bert’s brows rose. He straightened, his voice deepened. “In Colorado you can 
exchange your vows yourself.”
“I do not have the papers, but I would like to say the vows with Calli before 
you.”
“You have any objection to this, Calli?”
“No, he’s my husband.” Her breathing came a little ragged. Acknowledging that 
was a step toward common law marriage, too.
“We have shared a Bonding ritual in my land,” Marrec stated, “but I want Calli 
to have a—some sort of—a ceremony, here, too, again.”
He’d never been so inarticulate. Calli bit her lip. A wedding. The man was 
trying his best to give her a wedding. The pretty, long scarf that draped over 
her, glittering like shards of the crystal, hanging to her calves. She blinked 
and smiled at her Pairling. “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.” He smiled.
Bert rocked back on his heels. “I think I’ve conducted enough civil ceremonies 
to know the words pretty much by heart.”
Calli didn’t doubt it a bit.
“We are here to unite Marrec Gardpont and Callista Mae Torcher in marriage, 
which is held in honor among all people. As they pledge their constant and 
abiding love to each other…”
The old words, so familiar, spoken by an authoritative, honorable man. The scarf 
as her wedding dress. More, the sturdy, reliable man standing in front of her 
with love in his eyes, his Song rising loud to her ears, merging with the heart 
rhythm of her own personal Song, twining together, now on Earth as it was on 
Lladrana—a perfect wedding.
Marrec said his vows strongly and clearly.
Calli’s were a little rushed, a little loud.
“Here is where I’d say something like ‘by the authority vested in me by the 
state of Colorado,’ but I’ll just say, ‘You are husband and wife, blessings upon 
you.’” Bert winked at Marrec. “You may kiss the bride.”
Her husband’s mouth brushed her own.
“Right,” Bert said, “that’s done. The horses are restless.”
They weren’t really, they’d observed with some curiosity, even hearing part of 
the Songs, Calli thought. She should take off and fold the scarf, wrap it in the 
tissue paper stuffed in Marrec’s saddlebags. She didn’t.
Marrec kissed her again, harder. Calli slid her arms around his neck and kissed 
him back.
Bert carefully stepped away from the bunch, folded the check Marrec had given 
him and stuck it in his back pocket, then grinned. “Good doing business with 
you. I’ll make sure the excess is invested for you.”
“No, thanks. Please deposit it in my account. You know the number.” Calli was 
caught for an instant by his smile. For an older guy, he sure was attractive.
A head butt brought her back to the here and now, and the group of horses—a 
small herd—that was the basis of her new life. She swallowed. She could almost 
see Jetyer and Diaminta mounted on these lovely beasts. She had to look away and 
swipe her sleeve across her eyes.
Marrec murmured, “Marian and Jaquar, Alexa and Bastien will care for them like 
their own, until we find a way back.” Their rote comforting phrase, but his 
voice broke. He set his shoulders, made one corner of his mouth turn up. “These 
are our children for the moment.”
Calli still wanted children but didn’t know if her heart could take the strain. 
How long would it be before they gave up hope? If they adopted in the future, 
would that be giving up on their intention to return to Lladrana? Could they 
possibly take children back with them? Would more lost orphans break her heart 
further? Ease it slightly? No other children could replace her own.
But Marrec was ordering the horses so that they could ride back to the Rocking 
Bar T. Bert saddled the alpha stallion and Calli hurried over to saddle the 
mare. There were leads to tie the rest so they would follow…though Calli sensed 
their fascination with her and Marrec would make the task much easier.
Marrec swung onto the stallion. His face scrunched a little.
“What?” Calli asked.
He just shrugged, gathered up the lead lines and looked back at his string of 
three. “I like this type of saddle,” he said, tapping the horn.
Calli hadn’t introduced the western saddle to Lladrana. She wondered if that 
might have been a mistake. Her mare’s pretty ears flicked forward. She licked 
her lips. Calli smiled. The saddle was western and she put her foot in the 
stirrup, grabbed the horn and swung up. Her butt tingled all over when she 
settled into it, and it was warm, especially for being outside in this cloudy 
gray morning.
Bert finished tying the rest of her line, dodging a kick from the smallest mare, 
who matched Thunder in size. Then he went to the gate and held it open, nodded 
at Marrec. “Montana, eh?”
“Ayes,” Marrec said.
The older man cocked his head.
“Yes,” Calli said.
Bert nodded. “Good country. Let me know where you settle. Good luck to you.”
“Thanks.” Calli shifted the tiniest bit in her seat, as she would have on 
Thunder or a horse she’d trained for years. Millana moved out, smooth and easy.
“Good luck to you, too,” she said to Bert.
He grinned again. “I’ve had plenty of it, but am always happy for more.”
“Fare well,” said Marrec. His stallion caught up with the mare and Calli.
The gate was wide enough for them to leave side by side, with slight mind 
control from Marrec and Calli, suppressing urges. The road beyond was much 
wider. More clouds darkened the day and Calli shivered. She should have brought 
a heavier jacket. Fall was approaching. It would come even earlier in Montana. 
She let her gaze travel over her beloved mountains, the view not much different 
from her own ranch’s.
No, not hers.
Despite the fact that she’d returned to Colorado, had been ready to fight and 
claim her ranch, it truly was no longer her home. She swallowed.
Riding with the ease of a top cowboy, or an Equine-speaking Chevalier of 
Lladrana, Marrec held the reins in one hand and reached out to her with the 
other.
She gave him a watery smile and took it. The silence of the cool day was 
impressive. No cars, only the clopping of the horses’ unshod hooves on the dirt 
of Bert’s drive. Even the sounds of his place had faded since they’d made the 
first turn around a stand of evergreens.
Calli looked at Marrec and her heart simply turned over. His eyes were serious, 
and shadowed, and soft.
“I love you,” he said, then, “J’adora,” in Lladranan.
Her throat clogged. She glanced down at her white scarf, sniffed, nodded. 
“J’adora. I love you.”
The day winked out. Colorado was gone—green and gray.
Gray fog enveloped them, whistling winds. Their entwined fingers grabbed 
tighter.
The Snap! Marrec said.
Snap? Calli was beyond confused.
My Snap! he shouted with joy. I never thought it could happen.
She hadn’t, either.
The horses screamed. Marrec’s and Calli’s minds meshed as they worked to calm 
them. The mist parted to show the portal across from them closing.
42 
C alli bit her lip to prevent her own scream, angled downstream. The winds 
settled into a definite current.
Marrec jerked his chin at a wide portal, afternoon sunlight pouring into the 
corridor.
“Ayes!” Calli shouted, yelled again. The Lladranan “yes.” “Ayes!”
Then they were through the door and on a road.
Calli blinked at the bright sunshine, the heavy scent of worked fields around 
her.
Marrec whooped with joy, pointed off to the right where intricate and fancy 
buildings shone white in the sun.
“The Singer’s Abbey,” he said.
“Oh, my God,” Calli said in English, then switched gears and forced her voice 
through a throat thick as realization spread through her. They were back! “By 
the Song.”
“Well,” Alexa said, looking startled, baton out and ready, standing in a copse 
by the side of the road. Then she sagged against the tree at her back, shook her 
head hard and shut her eyes. Popped her eyelids up again and stared more. Her 
breath whooshed out as she looked past them at the horses. She gulped, cleared 
her throat, and her voice was cleared when she said, “I guess you guys are the 
only ones to ever bring a string of horses to Lladrana.” She spoke Lladranan.
Tears trickled down Calli’s cheeks.
Marrec stroked her palm with his thumb, dropped her hand. “How are our 
children?”
Alexa straightened to her full height. “Good enough. They’re up at the Abbey. I 
guess now I know why the Singer had Luthan kidnap them.”
“Kidnapped!” Calli exclaimed.
“That’s right,” Alexa snorted. “Took them right from under Jaquar’s and Marian’s 
and Bossgond’s noses.”
“Come help us with these horses. We need to secure them, then we’ll talk to the 
Singer.” Marrec’s tone was sharp as steel.
Alexa heaved a breath. “I don’t like that woman, but after I help you, I’ll go 
and tell her you’re here. For formality’s sake. She probably already knows. I’ll 
wait for you there.” Alexa walked slowly to them. “There’re stables up ahead, 
and separate paddocks for horses and volarans.” A few feet away, she stopped, 
tilted her head. “Those horses obviously came from Earth, but they 
look…different…than what I’m used to seeing. More like an antique strain or 
something.”
“They’re Lipizzaners.”
For an instant, Alexa’s mouth hung open. “Wow,” she breathed. “The ones trained 
for war. The kind that can do those fabulous jumps.”
“That’s right.” Sometimes Alexa surprised Calli with her knowledge. She’d expect 
Marian to know about Lipizzaners, but not Alexa.
“Wow.” The small woman stared at them. “They start out brown and turn white, 
don’t they?”
“Gray.”
“All right.” She stepped forward, Calli could hear her wrangle her mind into 
Equine-speak. Beautiful. “Can I have one?”
“You’ll have to ask Marrec.”
Marrec shrugged.
Alexa grinned. “I’ll have Bastien do the dealing. Wait ’til he gets a load of 
these!” She rubbed her hands. “He’ll go wild with greed.” She tilted her head 
and her eyes widened, squeezed shut, then opened again as she flushed. “By the 
Song, I didn’t even notice your scarf-thingie—just saw you and Marrec and those 
horses.” She stopped, tried to look casual. “Nice robe.”
Beaming, Calli said, “We got married this morning.” Sort of. Memory prodded her 
and her smiled turned to frown. “By Bert. The Honorable Trenton Philbert the 
Third.”
“Congratulations.” Alexa stepped forward and stood on tiptoe to kiss Marrec, 
then hugged and kissed Calli. When done, she said, “Judge Philbert, I know him 
slightly.” She frowned, too. “Didn’t Marian meet him and his wife at some party 
or other?”
“Yes! That’s what I was trying to remember.”
At that moment a Powerful Song hit Calli. Marrec stumbled back.
I am the Singer and I await you. Come, An old woman’s mental tone ordered.
Alexa shook her head as if righting herself after the command. Her lips pressed 
together, then she said, “I’ll go prepare the stable hands for you, then head on 
to the Singer. You take the time you need.” She jogged off.
“We’re back,” Calli whispered, looking at Marrec.
“Ayes. We’re home.” He rolled the words as if savoring them.
She swallowed tears, glanced up at the Abbey. “Not quite. Have you ever 
had—whatchamacallit—a Song Quest? That’s why most Chevaliers and Marshalls go to 
the Abbey, right?”
He sent her a laconic look. “Never could afford one.” His shoulders rolled. 
“Don’t think I’d want one anyway.”
“I don’t either. Alexa—”
“Marshalls must submit to a Song Quest. Part of the deal. With luck, we won’t 
have to talk to the Singer.”
Calli stared at him. She didn’t believe that for an instant.
A corner of Marrec’s mouth lifted. “You’re right. Not much chance of escaping an 
interview.” He turned in his saddle, frowning as he considered their strings of 
horses. “What say you to trying a little experiment?”
“Such as?”
He dropped the lead. “I bet we could ride up to the Abbey without any lines on 
the horses and these fabulous beasts would follow.”
She relaxed in her seat, closed her eyes, tested the minds of the horses. “I 
think you’re right.”
“It would be an impressive sight.”
“May give us some maneuvering room…in our own lives.”
“Maybe.”
As they reached the volaran area, a black-winged steed lifted, flew toward them, 
then landed a yard in front of them.
“Dark Lance!” Marrec choked. He sprang off his mount, ran to the volaran, threw 
his arms around the stallion’s neck and leaned against his companion.
Calli heard the joyful mingling of thoughts and Songs from where she stood. She 
waited until the first rush of emotion had decreased to a strong tune between 
them before clearing her throat. Marrec stepped back, his face flushed more than 
she’d ever seen, blinking fast.
Dark Lance whinnied at her. I stayed with the children, he said, full of pride. 
That Thunder, he been all over everywhere.
Wisely, Calli kept her mouth shut, watched Dark Lance’s eyes widen when he saw 
the horses, which were about his own size. He took to the air in instinctive, 
pleased surprise, circled over the wingless ones. These! These are why you went 
to Exotique Terre. To bring back more mates for us. Breed larger. His mind 
brushed hers, then the horses’. Smarter than the horses here. They will enrich 
our lines. He flew over to the rest of the volarans, chattering excitedly in 
Equine.
Marrec joined her and they organized the horses once more, with soft touches on 
their minds.
The stable workers’ mouths dropped in awe as Calli and Marrec led the horses 
into a large, empty corral without any lines or reins. “Be careful of the tack, 
especially the saddles,” he said.
A woman bowed low. “It will be done, my lord.”
Again Calli sensed relief from Marrec. He was back where he belonged, where he 
knew his place and the rules.
At that moment there was a great, trumpeting cry from the air. Our Exotique has 
returned, screamed Bastien’s stallion, Sunray. Immediately the winged steeds 
flew from their arena to light near Calli, pushing at her and Marrec.
He opened his arms wide and threw back his head and laughed, deep and full, and 
it was the best sound Calli had heard in weeks.
Her whole body was stroked by volarans brushing by her, nuzzling her head, 
thrusting their muzzles at her to be caressed.
Then a frightened whinny came. Checking mentally, Calli discovered that the 
horses had bunched together at the far side of the paddock, stallions out, on 
the verge of panic. She pushed through the volarans and clapped her hands, 
making it echo.
Apologize to the horses for scaring them, she ordered Sunray, the volaran with 
the most status.
He snorted.
I mean it. Apologize or I won’t ride you for a long time. 
Glancing at her, he said slyly, What is a long time? A day?
Bad choice of words. The volarans didn’t experience, nor count, time, as people 
did. For a whole season.
His nostrils flared. He stamped a hoof, then he glanced over to the horses.
She’d never seen a volaran do a double take. His neck came up, his eyes 
brightened, ears perked. Beautiful Exotique mares.
“Ayes,” she said.
Large beautiful Exotique mares. He trotted over.
It was fascinating to watch a volaran communicate in Equine with Earth horses. 
Luckily, neither of the herds considered the others mutants, and, of course, 
just like Lladranan horses, the Earth animals were charmed by their incredible 
cousins. The Lipizzaner stallions were disposed to guard their females…until a 
young volaran mare trotted up to them, fluttering a wingtip.
Someone cleared his throat. A group of six Singer’s Friends stood just outside 
the fence, observing, all dressed in different-colored robes from midnight blue 
to pale yellow.
Calli knew the Singer was the oracle and prophetess of Lladrana, like a high 
priestess. The Friends were nuns or monks or priests or priestesses or 
something.
Marrec tore his gaze away from the volarans and horses. He strolled to Calli and 
took her hand, then they both walked from the corral. The stable hands hardly 
noticed them leave, still engrossed in the horse-volaran meeting.
“Salutations, Chevalier Marrec and Exotique Chevalier Callista.” The man in pale 
yellow bowed.
“Salutations,” they replied in unison. Marrec squeezed her fingers.
“The Singer awaits you.”
Raising his brows, Marrec said, “Already?”
The man gave a discreet cough. “The Singer anticipated your arrival.”
Though Marrec appeared expressionless, subtle tension ran through his muscles. 
He took a while to consider that, then said, “We aren’t prepared for Song 
Quests.”
“There will be no Song Quests. Merely an interview.”
A woman in a purple robe frowned, and Calli blinked at the disconcerting thought 
that the horse-volaran meeting was being replayed here with people. A 
Friends-Chevaliers meet. Or a Friends-Exotiques meet. She definitely considered 
her husband and herself of higher status…and Lladranans did put great emphasis 
on status.
“Very well.” Marrec scowled at the white buildings that covered the low hill. 
“In which one does the Singer await us? And how do we get there?”
The Friend inclined his torso, his expression smug. “Just let your feet and your 
heart guide you.”
Calli didn’t like his tone. She adjusted her white wedding-scarf robe, let her 
fingers linger on the soft cloth, the glass beads, then grasped Marrec’s hand. 
Since they’d returned, Power had gathered around her, suffused her, as if Amee 
itself had wrapped her in a thick down comforter. She stared at the man until he 
met her eyes. This Singer who scared Alexa wasn’t the only one with Power. Calli 
was a Paired Exotique who’d traveled through two Snaps, both herself and her 
husband fulfilling tasks for Lladrana and Amee. “We’ll follow the Song, won’t 
we, Marrec?”
Pulling the most intricate strain toward her like a thread, she let it touch her 
mind. She sent one to Marrec, who let it twine around his shoulder, then she 
wrapped the Song around the pompous man and smiled. She and Marrec strolled in 
the lovely Lladranan sunlight toward the spires and towers of the Abbey. Back 
home and together. Nothing could subdue her quiet joy.
The Friend took a step, his expression went comically surprised as he realized 
he was tangled in the great Song of the place and hadn’t even known it. He fell.
She tilted her head and looked at him. “One of the texts of the Song in my land 
says, ‘A haughty spirit goes before a fall, and pride goes before destruction.’”
The other Friends stepped aside as she and Marrec took a humming path up the 
gentle hill.
After a couple of minutes, Calli realized that Marrec matched her steps. His 
Song, even and with burgeoning Power, radiated from him, encompassing her, 
supporting her. As her own Song went to him. Their melded Pair Song was stronger 
than ever, and she let a breath out at the thought.
He glanced at her. “No other person could have kept me sane and functioning in a 
world like yours.” His voice was rough and she realized that he’d kept his words 
short, until now. His emotions swirled around them—released fear, dreadful 
confusion, incipient despair. He’d kept them all pent up on Earth.
She stopped and wrapped her arms around him and stood with him, not caring who 
watched. They’d survived. Stroking his cheek, she said, “You could have lived on 
Earth. You’re strong and adaptable enough. We would have made a good life 
there.” But they’d always have had holes in themselves. She was so glad to be 
back, she ached. She’d hold her children in her arms soon.
Tilting back her head, she welcomed his kiss. He pulled her tight, swept his 
tongue across her lips, then thrust it inside her mouth to explore. She gave 
herself up to sensation, sweet knowledge that she belonged here, with this man, 
on this world.
When the heat had risen between them, he stepped back, fire in his eyes. “We’ll 
celebrate tonight.” His rare grin flashed and he took her hand again. “Now let’s 
retrieve our children and talk to the Singer.”
There was an edge in his voice as he mentioned the prophetess. Sharp images ran 
from his mind to hers. The milky crystal in the hillside of her ranch on 
Earth…throbbing with Power that had been “tuned.” The same crystal in shards so 
they couldn’t return to Lladrana that way no matter how they tried. The 
recollection of the “push” that had spun them through to Earth when Calli would 
have stayed on Lladrana with the Snap.
His anger fueled her own. Oh, yeah, she had things to say to this Singer.
At the top of the hill was a rust-colored curlicued iron gate, which a woman 
held open for them. They walked through without stopping, though both Marrec and 
she thanked the gatekeeper. Calli didn’t hear it shut behind her.
Marrec’s grip tightened on her fingers. Let us probe for the children. He sent 
his mind, his heart, his Song out.
“They’re here!” Her heart found them first. “Playing in a garden.”
One side of Marrec’s mouth quirked. “Quarreling.”
She chuckled. “Yes.” Then she leaned her head against his arm. This time he 
stopped and they stood in a small cul-desac of green. “I want to hold my 
children.”
His jaw flexed. “I do, too. But I have a feeling that the Singer isn’t going to 
release them to us until after this ‘interview.’”
“Well, she’d better not think she can keep Diaminta and Jetyer. I’ll lead an 
army of volarans against her!”
He lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed them. “You’d do that, go against 
the most Powerful person in Lladrana, perhaps on all of Amee?”
“Yes, and Alexa and Marian and their men would join me.”
Again he kissed her fingers, then said, “A high standard, me being cast in with 
Shieldmarshall Bastien Vauxveau and Circlet Sorcerer Jaquar Dumont.”
She kissed his cheek. “You’re their equal.”
He stilled. “I’m glad you think so.”
“I know so.”
There came a screech, and a peacock paraded around the edge of the building and 
up to them.
“Which feycoocu?” Marrec murmured.
Calli squinted. “Though it’s male…I’d say Alexa’s companion.”
Sinafinal shut and opened her tail feathers, then turned as if to lead.
After sharing a glance, they followed the stately peacock. It actually walked 
slower than they’d been, so they earned a few more minutes to acclimate. As 
Calli recalled Alexa’s tale of the Singer, and from the buzzing Power 
surrounding them, she began to think that she’d need all her wits.
All the buildings were fanciful, mixing spires and onion domes with round and 
square towers in a jumble that still twinged Calli’s heart at the beauty. As 
they walked, heavy spells of protection and Songs pulsed from the walls. The 
pretty pathways included cobbles and greenery and stepping stones and live 
thyme. None of the paths were long and they often curved, branched, came to a 
dead end at a wall. It didn’t take long to realize that they were threading a 
maze—and unlike the Castle’s, this one was of stone.
At the end of the last twisting path was a high pointed arch doorway set in a 
jewel of a chapel. Another Friend waited on the threshold of the open door. “The 
Singer awaits,” he said.
43 
T he Friend stepped aside as they entered, waved toward the end of the 
gracefully arched stone building. “Just walk straight through all the rooms.”
Calli once again adjusted her wedding robe over her dreeth leathers. Both 
reminded her who she was. The feycoocu chirped and stayed behind.
A few steps in, all her tension drained and she stumbled. Marrec caught her 
elbow and smiled at her with an easy curve of his lips.
Calli frowned and glanced at the Friend behind them, who stood with placid 
expression and folded hands. “This entryway suppresses negative emotions.”
Of course.
Marrec shifted his shoulders. “The Abbey is lovely.”
The light inside was wonderful, painting the white stone walls golden from the 
windows set in arches on the bottom and huge towering rectangular windows above 
them. The space was relatively narrow compared to the height. They were the only 
people in this chamber, though the soft hum of voices and Songs rose from 
elsewhere.
A small line appeared between Marrec’s brows as if he heard his own words 
whisper in an echo back to him. His fingers closed harder on Calli’s arm and 
that helped focus her thoughts, though she didn’t get her suspicions back.
“Is this where Song Quests are done?” Marrec stood solidly in place.
“No,” said the Friend.
“Guess we’re relatively safe then,” Calli said.
“Safety is always relative,” Marrec said.
About a third of the way down was a beautifully carved wooden wall about sixteen 
feet high that blocked the rest of the space and emphasized the austerity of the 
tall creamy stone walls and glass. The wooden screen held a small door they’d 
have to go through single file.
Their steps were muffled and Calli noticed that some areas had thick rugs and 
others were bare stone in patterned squares of dark red and blue marble.
They walked fast through three chambers, nodding to Singer’s Friends who stood 
or talked or worked at desks, then entered the last, smallest space. The walls 
were paneled with gleaming dark oak, the floor layered with rugs. A couple of 
steps led to a dais where a chair that looked like a throne stood. Behind the 
chair a tall velvet curtain of royal blue rippled and Calli was sure there was 
more space and at least one door behind it.
Alexa hovered at the door, waiting for them, as she’d promised.
Sitting up straight in the chair, her feet placed on an embroidered footstool, 
was a very small and very old lady whose eyes pierced Calli.
Marrec’s hand unlinked with hers and he put his arm in a loose circle about her 
waist, again matching step with her. Alexa kept pace with them. When they 
reached the steps up to the platform, Marrec gave a half bow, so Calli did, too.
With a graceful gesture the Singer indicated some chairs on the dais that Calli 
hadn’t noticed.
“Welcome to Singer’s Abbey. I am the nine-hundred-and-ninety-ninth Singer.” That 
stopped Calli in her tracks. She looked over at Alexa, who was looking right 
back at her.
The Singer chuckled, the rich timbre of it sank right into Calli’s bones. This 
was a woman who breathed Power. Someone deeply trained in magic over a very long 
period of time. Every sound she uttered would carry spells.
Calli and Marrec went to chairs on the Singer’s left. Marrec hesitated, then put 
her between himself and the Singer—protecting her more from whatever might burst 
through the door than the old woman. Well, strange things had happened to Calli 
in the last couple of months, she wouldn’t bet that more unusual events couldn’t 
occur, like an attack in the seat of Power in Lladrana. She sat, arranging her 
scarf.
Alexa took a chair to the Singer’s right, legs dangling. She was nearly as small 
as the old woman. With a sniff, Alexa settled back and crossed her legs on the 
chair seat. The Singer raised a hand and a man dressed in midnight blue 
separated himself from the shadows and put a little footstool near Alexa’s 
chair. She smiled up at him, with teeth. Her wariness was sharp enough to 
overcome the smothering spells in the walls. “Thank you. I’m fine.”
“Swordmarshall, your boots on the chair and cushion—”
“Consequences of you not being prepared,” Alexa said. “Cost of doing business.”
Calli listened in admiration, but then Alexa was a woman used to being 
aggressive.
Cocking her head, Alexa said, “Tell me, Lady Singer, does your vocal range 
include four octaves?”
Everyone looked surprised at Alexa’s question, the servant horrified.
The Singer laughed, once again tickling nerves deep inside Calli.
“Ayes, dear, it does.”
Alexa met Calli’s eyes. “Marian would have wanted me to ask.”
Calli was clueless.
“The weapon knot,” Alexa said. “It can only be used by someone who has a singing 
range of four octaves.”
“Ah, the Circlet Marian Harasta,” said the Singer. Her words lilted and Calli 
figured she could listen to the woman all day and that if the Singer actually 
Sang she might fall out of her chair in a blissful faint.
“Thou mayst tell Marian that she is most welcome to visit me,” the Singer said 
in English, in a Boston accent.
Marrec sat up straight. He was listening hard. Still protective of herself and 
Alexa. What a man. “You hold our children?” He spoke English, too.
The Singer made a moue. “They are safe and healthy, enjoying the Abbey.” She’d 
switched back to Lladranan and Calli didn’t know if she liked it. The Singer’s 
voice was much more a subtle weapon of infinite meanings and tone when speaking 
Lladranan.
Calli caught the sound of the far outside door opening and voices coming from 
the end of the hall, which were silenced by an authoritative command. No one 
said anything as they heard quick boot heels in long strides snapping on stone 
and muffled on rugs. No one else tried to stop the man, though there were 
murmurs as he passed through the other rooms. Finally the door opened and Luthan 
Vauxveau in his white leathers entered. When he reached the bottom of the dais, 
he made a sweeping bow to the Singer. “Lady.”
The Friend hastily placed a chair to the outside of Alexa, though Calli would 
have bet her manor that Luthan treated antique furniture with care, no matter 
what the circumstances. He took the chair, then sent a less than respectful 
glance toward the Singer. “I just heard that Calli and Marrec are back. All the 
volarans are Singing with gladness. You didn’t inform me that Calli and Marrec 
would return today.”
“It is time you trained your own prophetic Power,” she said.
His head jerked back as if from a blow.
“And that leads me to why I wanted this interview.” The Singer turned to Calli. 
“You have brought new understanding between volarans and people, fulfilling that 
task. You have mended the rift between the Chevaliers and the Marshalls, which 
has fulfilled the Chevaliers’ task. You have found and surveyed the Dark’s nest 
here on Amee, another task.” She tapped the wooden arm of her chair with her 
fingernails and even that sound echoed through the room.
Incredible acoustics. Incredible woman.
The Singer looked at Marrec. “And Callista brought you, the finest Volaran 
Speaker, into your true Power. You also completed your task on Exotique Terre. 
You brought the horses to breed with the volarans. I do not travel well anymore, 
and I wanted to meet you here in my home.” Her smile held an edge. “I was sure 
that Alyeka would come, too, as she did, and hoped to see Marian also. Three 
Exotiques.” See them together and study them and their interactions, Calli got 
that. “And their Pairlings.”
Calli’s stomach clutched. “You have our children.”
The Singer nodded. “The only children adopted by Exotiques in centuries. They 
have been very informative.”
“You took the children away from Marian and Jaquar.” Alexa aimed a laser glance 
at Luthan. “You took them.”
His face somber, he made a sitting bow. “I apologize once again.”
Alexa sniffed. “I’ll never let you forget it, brother of my Pairling.” Then she 
stared at the old woman. “And you ordered it.”
“I wanted to see the children, learn their potential, and know of their bonds to 
their adopted parents.”
Alexa hopped down from her chair and paced across the dais and back. “Not fair.”
“And you still think that life should be fair, Alyeka,” the Singer said.
Doves flew through the upper windows. Alexa raised an arm automatically and 
Sinafinal lit on it. The other circled around Calli and Marrec then landed on 
Marrec’s shoulder. He looked pleased.
“Ayes, everyone manipulates the Exotiques—except the other Exotiques.” Alexa 
came over and stood by Calli, but continued to gaze at the Powerful woman. “So, 
my lady Singer. Is it true that you had a magic mirror that connected to a 
crystal on Calli’s mountain?”
The shock of that revelation jolted all the way to Calli’s toes, sharpened her 
concentration until she could feel the faint stirring of a draft over her skin. 
“Is that true?” she asked. Her hand went to Marrec’s, they linked fingers again, 
always. Once again she saw the lost crystal hillface in her mind. Something that 
had been special to her since childhood, that she hadn’t even realized until 
now. It had been a portal. She had seen images of Lladrana through it. Because 
of the crystal, or the Singer?
Outrage pulled Calli to her feet. “Did you destroy my crystal?”
The woman lowered eyelids puffy with age and Calli knew something with deep 
certainty. “You pushed us through to Earth, didn’t you? Broke the crystal on my 
mountain.” The little old lady’s eyelids flicked, but she didn’t meet Calli’s 
eyes. Yet she sensed that what she’d accused wasn’t the whole truth.
“Why?” asked Marrec, cold and softly.
The Singer tilted her head. “Surely you know the reasons.”
When they stood and let the silence grow, a silence that sent furious waves of 
sound through the atmosphere, she waved a hand and banished the negativity. Then 
she met their stares in turn and her musical voice came once more. “I will not 
answer your charge, but I will admit that there was a need for you, both of you, 
to visit Exotique Terre and return here. Bringing the horses was one reason, the 
only one I’ll tell.”
Marrec grunted. “Calli wouldn’t have gone back in the Snap.”
“Ttho,” said the Singer. “She would have stayed.”
“Right,” Alexa said, fingering her baton.
“You made me break a promise to my son.” Calli’s voice quivered with pain and 
anger.
The Singer’s mouth turned down. “I discovered that too late. I am sorry for the 
hurt that was caused.”
“But you don’t admit responsibility for the deeds,” Marrec’s voice grated. “And 
I don’t want to probe these mysteries. I want recompense. No. I demand 
recompense.”
“Ah.” The Singer gave a little cough. She stared at each of them in turn. None 
of them dropped their eyes. Then her mouth rounded and liquid notes of pure 
beauty came from her throat. A servant hustled up with two sheets of paper and a 
bar of soft gold. The Singer put her lips to each sheet of paper. Before Calli’s 
eyes, words appeared as if written in ink on the paper. Then the page was folded 
over and the end of the gold liquefied and dripped onto the paper, then spread 
out like a seal.
Calli goggled.
When it was done, the Singer handed the two sheets to Marrec. “These are my 
recommendations to Lady Knight Swordmarshall Thealia Germaine and Lady Hilaire 
Hallard that you, Marrec and Callista Gardpont, have fulfilled all your duties 
and should be allowed a normal life upon your estate. That all my listening to 
the Song says this is best.” Her lips firmed, then she said, “That much is the 
truth at this time. But I will consult with the Song at moonrise, and that truth 
may change. So these letters are only in effect for two hours, after that the 
spell ink will vanish. You will find the Swordmarshall and Chevalier at the 
encampment.”
Alexa squeaked. “Two hours! That’s barely enough time to use Distance Magic to 
reach the encampment.”
“Sufficient time,” Luthan disagreed.
“We can’t even visit with the children for a few minutes!” Calli said.
Marrec cast a hard look to the Singer, set Tuckerinal aside, put the letters in 
his belt pouch and took Calli’s hand. “We’d better go. The sooner we leave, the 
sooner we can return and claim our children. We’ll be back.”
They left the room without another word, though Calli heard Alexa mutter 
something to the Singer and Luthan, then her short strides sounded behind them.
Alexa caught up to them near the entryway. In a cheery tone, she said, “I think 
that went pretty well, don’t you?”
Marrec snorted.
Alexa raised her eyebrows. “Hey, at least she didn’t grab you and send your mind 
spinning into alternative futures here and on Earth.”
“No, and we guilted her into helping us with this bonus.” Calli tapped her 
finger on Marrec’s belt pouch. “In two hours we’ll be free to raise a family.” 
Then she wished she’d bitten her tongue. Alexa was a warrior, she’d continue to 
fight.
As if discerning her thought, Alexa smiled. “These battles won’t go on forever, 
you know. We’ll beat the Dark, and in the next two years.” She opened the large 
door and afternoon sunlight painted a bright square on the stone floor. “And 
here’s my cowardly Pairling, waiting for us outside the Singer’s lair.”
Bastien immediately began to strip.
“No!” Alexa nearly shouted. “We don’t need to see all your scars.”
He smirked. “I proved my courage in my Marshall Testing that way.”
“Not necessary,” Alexa repeated.
Turning to Calli, he widened his eyes. “Calli may wish to appreciate me.”
“I’ve seen you naked in the baths,” she said drily.
Marrec stared down at her. “You noticed another man?”
She touched his fingers wrapped around her waist. “Only vaguely. And he compares 
poorly to you. You fill my senses with your Song.”
Bastien clutched at his chest. “Oh, the terrible wounds a woman’s words can 
inflict.”
Alexa snickered, then her expression froze as Luthan joined them. He bowed 
stiffly to Marrec and Calli. “My apologies for any concern I caused you.”
Alexa punched him on the arm. “You should apologize to Bastien and me, too. We 
were worried. And you owe Marian and Jaquar more than a verbal apology for what 
you put them through.”
Luthan winced. “I will discuss that with them,” he said stiffly. “The Singer has 
requested you and Bastien join her for dinner.” He turned to Calli and Marrec. 
“Your volarans are saddled and ready to go. Thunder came with me from the 
Castle.”
Since Marrec kept quiet, Calli said, “Thank you.”
“You’ll be fine,” Alexa said. “The camp is perfectly safe. Actually, since you 
were gone, there have been no battles, and the camp is still a fair way behind 
the line of previous fighting.”
“Good to know,” Marrec said.
“This is Thealia and Lady Hallard’s regular inspection day.”
“Ah.”
“Excellent. It’ll be efficient, catching them together,” Calli said.
“Try and arrange that you confront them outside a tent, in public,” Bastien 
advised. “Then they can’t manipulate you as easily.”
“Good idea,” said Marrec.
Bastien smiled and bowed, waving them on their way. “I try my best.”
Luthan hooked his arms with his brother and Alexa. “The Singer’s private dining 
room is in this direction.”
“Private,” muttered Alexa. “Private. I don’t want to be private with her.”
With a sigh, Calli took off her wedding robe and carefully folded it, handing it 
to Alexa. “Will you find a bag and keep this for me?”
“Of course.” Steps dragging, Alexa followed Bastien and Luthan.
A hawk cawed and they looked up to see Sinafinal perched on a gargoyle-laden 
drainpipe attached to a building a few yards to their left.
This way. Faster. Tuckerinal will lead you inside, through buildings. I will 
lead you outside. 
The small greyhound standing in front of the entrance barked. Tuckerinal.
They hurried to the door.
A few dizzying minutes later, they were approaching the gate. Calli glanced back 
in the direction where she sensed their children.
44 
“W e can’t see them now. There’s no time for greetings, let alone explanations 
and goodbyes,” Marrec said.
She swallowed. That was the very reason she kept her link to them very quiet, so 
they wouldn’t notice she and Marrec were back and become overexcited. It would 
be only a couple of hours before they’d all be together and at home.
Marrec was keeping his bond with the children low and thin, too. She nodded. 
“Jetyer’s Song contains a darkness. He thinks we betrayed him, abandoned him.”
Marrec took time to stroke her back. “By the end of this night we’ll be home 
together.”
“Ayes.”
The gatekeeper opened the gate and watched them jog through.
Following Marrec, Calli moved fast. Her greetings to the equines were brief, her 
reunion with Thunder abbreviated. Within fifteen minutes they were rising to the 
sky.
Calli, you’re back? Marian’s voice came strong and clear in Calli’s mind.
Ayes! 
Marian laughed with her.
Jaquar and I attended a meeting on Parteger Island and we want to see you! 
Fly to our home. Too much to explain about the Singer and everything else, 
though Calli sensed Marian’s curiosity.
Marian sent, All right, we’ll leave immediately. See you later.
All too soon, Marrec was gesturing for Calli and Thunder to engage a Distance 
Magic bubble. She sighed, she’d barely gotten a taste of true flying.
Marrec glanced at her. I feel the yearning in your heart. Soar and play, 
Pairling. I will go ahead.
I should not. But she yearned to fly.
His chuckle came to her mind. I will give you an excuse. All the volarans are 
linking with Thunder, to hear whether their Volaran Exotique has taken any harm 
from her days away. How she has changed. Give them the reassurance they need.
Calli found herself grinning. Very well. We’ll catch up. She watched Marrec and 
Dark Lance waver as the Distance Magic orb engulfed them, then set Thunder 
climbing steeply into the sky.
The sheer delight of being back, being home and flying was something she wanted 
to savor with her entire body, feel the movement of the volaran beneath her as 
his wings flapped, the amber scent of him. It felt good to stretch muscles used 
in flying, her mind in telepathic communication, her Power.
Thunder whinnied, matching her joy. He paused to do some spirals upward, 
catching rising thermals. She shrieked in glee, leaned close and said, Loop de 
loop!
Tucking his legs in he soared, whipped over, extended his wings on the downward 
circle to catch the wind at just the right angle to glide.
She saw the first star wink into the evening sky.
Perfect.
Since she was alone, she raised her voice in Song. She sang an old Chevalier 
flying song, enjoying the Power that buzzed around her, the deepening blue of 
the sky bowl around them.
She grew cool, and added this observation to the rest—the seasons were changing. 
They’d reached the edge of summer and would soon be into fall. Autumn would have 
its own Song—Songs—and she relished learning them.
She’d just finished a breathless dive and spin when she caught sight of a small 
blue-gray volaran coming her way—with two even smaller forms mounted on it.
Her heart lurched in her chest. Marrec! she called.
What! 
The children are here! 
The children? 
They’re riding Sapphire. 
He cursed. I will return.
No, you go on. 
I will return. Nothing is more important at this moment than the children.
He reached her just before the children flew the last few lengths up to them.
Pa! Pa! Pa! Diaminta squealed both mentally and audibly, waving her arms. She 
was strapped to Jetyer, and they were both strongly bespelled to the small mare.
Jetyer’s face was set and a little pale. Calli could see a few of his freckles. 
He looked a lot like Marrec, with that expression. His gaze was bruised. He’d 
thought they’d abandoned them. He had paid the most for the Singer’s little 
jaunt. Calli hated that.
So she opened her heart and her mind and let her joy at seeing him, at being 
home, her love for him bubble forth. Her Song brushed her children, enveloped 
them, sank into them—and not her Song alone, but Marrec’s, too. And their shared 
Song. All the bonds between them opened to exchange feelings, brief images of 
the last few days. Jetyer’s tense body eased, his lips curved and his eyes shone 
with dampness. He knew that she’d—they’d—been forced away from their children.
And then there wasn’t much need for words at all.
Marrec jerked his chin southward. “Can’t send them back by themselves, and since 
we don’t know what the Singer put in her letters, I think we’d better both 
confront Swordmarshall Germaine and Lady Hallard.” One side of his mouth lifted. 
“They aren’t going to be happy that we’re retiring. I’d just as soon have all my 
family with me.”
Jetyer cheered. Diaminta screeched joyfully.
Dark Lance circled the children’s mare, sandwiching her between the two 
stallions.
Drawing Power from her joy at seeing her children again, Calli helped Marrec 
settle a Distance Magic bubble around the mare and headed onward toward the 
encampment.
About a half hour later, Calli realized Thunder was faltering.
What’s wrong? 
His neck bent and he rolled an eye at her, blinked in embarrassment. I was at 
our home last night, then went to the encampment this morning, then to the 
Castle….
Then came to the Singer’s Abbey and we played and now we are off to the 
encampment. A lot of Power usage. 
He blew out a soft breath. Ayes.
She sighed. She should not have taken the time and strength to play.
Calli? questioned Marrec.
Thunder is tired…. I am, too. I think I must try pulling those replenishing 
energy spells from the sky and land. The ones she’d just learned before she 
left.
She sensed Marrec’s hesitation.
Go on! Get us the life we deserve. Care for the children. I’ll be along as soon 
as I can. The ladies can both link with me, if they need to, understand that I’m 
on the way.
Very well. Do what you must. 
She’d spent some time playing and now it was time to…not work, because none of 
the time spent here on Lladrana except when she fought was work…but definitely 
time to pay attention to important matters.
And events had swept over her with relentless force again. Her lips twitched up 
in a rueful smile. Only here a few hours and they’d been packed with strange and 
unusual occurrences. That almost felt normal now. And she’d had Marrec this 
time.
God—by the Song—she loved him. She couldn’t think of her life without him. If 
she’d kept him from panicking and sane on Earth, he’d been invaluable to her, 
too, given her someone solid to lean on, kept her grounded in what was 
important—not winning her father’s love, which was something she’d never be able 
to do, but planning their future.
Now they had a future, and it was definitely time for her to implement it. 
Thunder had said nothing to interrupt her musings. She sensed he’d been content 
to be in her company. Their current speed and energy outlay gave him time to 
recover. She frowned in consideration. She seemed more aware of sunlit motes of 
Power around her, as if they were drawn to her—or sent to her. Same difference, 
she supposed. Anyway, Thunder was using that to strengthen himself, as she 
should be.
You know the Live in the Song Spell, she said.
Of course. The flick of his wingtip was smug. Volarans always Live in the Song. 
It is only unaware people who cannot master it.
Enough with the insults. I’ve only been back a few hours! 
He shook his head as if brushing off insects. I did not like you gone.
I didn’t like being gone, but it wasn’t my choice. 
A long breath escaped him, as if he’d needed that reassurance as much as her 
children had.
They wouldn’t let me Call to you, try and get you and Marrec back. 
They? 
His head came up and pointed to the left. Two hawks flew near them. The 
feycoocus?
A ripple of Thunder’s irritation shivered his muscles. Everyone. Only the 
Exotiques tried to get you back.
“Huh.”
Everyone else said you and Marrec were where you were supposed to be, he 
grumbled, and Calli got images of the head volarans, of Thealia and Lady 
Hallard.
Marrec’s voice came. The children and I are above the camp and going down now. 
Everything looks very calm. Dark Lance says there have been no night battles in 
months.
Startled from her thoughts, she looked around to see the sun setting quickly, 
and they were still quite a ways from the encampment. Distance Magic would 
rectify that, but she had to move now. She’d been thinking too much and not 
doing—or perhaps putting off the time when she’d have to try a spell that had 
always been hard for her to master.
All right, she sent to Marrec and Thunder and reinforced her own confidence. She 
could do this, would do this.
She heard her magic teacher and Marian’s previous instructions in her head. 
“Open yourself to all the elements, to the land of Lladrana and the whole planet 
of Amee.” But that didn’t seem right to Calli, so instead of opening herself, 
she tried something different, she imagined sluffing off layers of protective 
shields—around her mind and heart.
Not opening.
Letting go. 
Releasing her fears, her expectations, living in the moment. Living in the Song.
The air around her held the last warmth of day. She drew it into her, felt as if 
sparks traveled up and down her muscles. The wispy clouds above, tinting pink 
with sunset, held cool ice crystals, with the Power of mountain wind and sky 
water. That, too, she brought into her, and the Power was like silk slipping 
along her skin. She kept a little and sent most of it to Thunder and his 
wingbeats grew stronger. She felt him revitalize, gathering and storing energy 
for use in spells.
She lifted her hands from her saddle, held her arms away from herself to find 
the waves of energy from the land below. The rich, heavy feel of earth, the 
pulsing planet. This was harder than fire and wind and water. Hard to feel, hard 
to harness. She thought of landing but brushed the idea aside. No time. And she 
wouldn’t let the tension of a deadline distract her. She settled deeply into her 
seat. Closed her eyes. Yes, the last touches of the sun and the water suspended 
in the air and the wind itself was easier to feel than the land. She let her 
mind flow down with a breeze, play with leaves, ruffle grasses, sift into the 
ground, and through that connection, she pulled the land’s Song into herself, 
let it sink, rich and coating, into her bones.
Then there was simply the Song of existence itself—of life and space and time. 
Something Calli had rarely heard but now knew. The Song of her new home and a 
future shaped the way she yearned for. Deep down, she’d been afraid to believe 
in it, so hadn’t been able to accept the Song and the Power. It caressed her 
now, poured through her, like thunder rolling in her veins.
One last deep inhalation, one last expelling of breath.
Our Song. She sent the energy to Thunder, for him to use, felt refreshed and 
full of vitality herself. With a hummed couplet she formed an orb of Distance 
Magic around them, and they flew fast and far with Power.
A moment later she saw something ahead. A horrible yellow-green-gray cloudy 
smudge against the horizon, blocking star-shine. If she didn’t know better, 
she’d have thought it was smog. She sniffed, smelled only a trace of a noxious 
odor. What’s that? Can we avoid it to reach the encampment?
That is the encampment, Thunder said.
What is that cloud? 
What cloud? 
Calli scowled. She didn’t want to go down there. All her instincts warned her 
that evil lurked ahead. Marrec! she called.
Ayes? he asked with his customary calm.
What’s going on? Why is the camp so foul? 
What are you talking about? 
It’s not bad down there? 
Humor came through their bond. We are still being cheered. Everyone gathered to 
greet us, and all the volarans want to say hello. I gave the letters to 
Swordmarshall Germaine and Lady Hallard. They are not pleased but cannot deny 
the Singer. They want to see you before they release us.
He sighed and his exhaustion came through. The children are tired. We will wait 
for you in our tent. Pride suffused his thoughts. Jetyer has cared for his 
volaran. He flew well, has done everything well.
Everything’s okay? she persisted.
Fine. We only wait for you before we fly home. 
I’ll see you soon, she sent to him, but aloud she grumbled to Thunder, “I don’t 
like this.” The smog trailed upward in wisps and hugged the ground close. Her 
man and her children were down below. She had no choice. Keep your senses open.
Thunder snorted.
They entered the wisps of cloud. Now they were in it, it seemed unthreatening, 
insubstantial. There was no nasty smell. Yet Calli had to keep herself from 
shifting in unease, which would give Thunder wrong cues.
By the time they reached the ground, the events of the day weighed upon her, 
like a burden of weariness. Only a couple of volarans lifted their heads and 
gave her a whicker of greeting. That disappointed her a little since she hadn’t 
seen many of them for what seemed like ages and she’d expected them to crowd 
around her. None of the other Chevaliers or Marshalls had waited for her to 
land, either.
She dismounted, shrugged and stretched, trying to work out kinks she hadn’t 
noticed before. Using more Power than ordinarily, she did a quick groom of 
Thunder so he’d be ready to leave again shortly. He folded his wings and dropped 
his head. I am very tired and want to sleep. The volarans around them were all 
dozing.
She stumbled through the gate and kicked over an empty metal feed bin. The sound 
shook her. She felt it reverberate through her foot to her legs, her chest, 
ringing in her ears. Her wits sharpened a little, and she kicked it again.
Clang! It echoed subliminally, like the very gong that had been used to Summon 
her here.
Amazed, she slipped against the fence and some bridles hanging over the top rail 
clinked. Sort of like the chimes. Again she felt the noise.
Something was wrong.
No.
Everything was wrong.
Marrec! she shouted with her mind. Then realized what she’d done. She’d kept her 
mouth shut, hadn’t yelled for him with breath from her lungs.
No answer.
Thunder! 
She got an Equine grumble. Sleeping, here.
Don’t sleep too deep, we’re getting out of here as quick as can be. 
She left the volaran area fast and quietly. The fug of the camp staggered her, 
no longer benign to her senses but a gray, filthy atmosphere that rasped into 
her lungs. She wrapped a bandana around her face that still held the sweet 
scents of the Colorado Rockies and managed a little smile as she recalled that 
she’d cherished Marrec’s handkerchief at the ranch for the opposite reason. She 
blinked and blinked again as her wits fuddled. Walking was like pulling a boot 
out of thick mud, taking a step and sinking knee high, and repeating the 
process.
She saw no one, and that tinkled an alarm in her mind. She had to get to their 
tent, had to get to Marrec. Had to reach her babies. That fear was strong enough 
to dissipate cotton-headedness, have her picking up her feet faster, holding the 
cloth closer to her nose and mouth. Hum a protective Shield and watch it form 
around her. Yep. The Volaran Exotique was back.
Inside the Shield, she still swayed. It wasn’t enough. Closing her eyes, she 
pulled at her energy, her Power, deep inside her, yanked it up sluggishly 
through her body, stalled somewhere around her heart. Her eyes didn’t want to 
open, she wanted to crumple where she was into the arms of sleep. Though she’d 
prefer Marrec’s arms. She sighed. Marrec! Her brain was definitely half a bar 
slower. That wouldn’t do.
Oddly enough, a commercial came to mind. Some cleaning jingle. She gathered her 
power and whisked the sleepiness and complacency away. Spun the muggy effect of 
another spell from the inside of her egg-shaped Shield.
And came back to her senses, shivering in the cold, crisp air inside her Shield. 
She narrowed her eyes, surveyed the camp. No one stirred.
This was bad. Very, very bad.
Why hadn’t anyone told them that the camp was bad?
Because the dark spell had worked slowly, incrementally, like poison…and the 
Circlets hadn’t been living at the camp since they’d taken the children for 
protection. And another layer—the final trap—had been sprung when Marrec and the 
kids had landed.
By her secret enemy within the ranks of the Chevaliers and Marshalls.
This time she could feel the evil.
The evil one who had wanted to kill her.
The evil one who had bespelled the camp and everyone in it—including Calli’s 
children and husband.
The evil one with great Power linked to the Dark itself.
She found Jetyer in their tent sleeping on a cot, but not Marrec or Diaminta.
45 
F orcing her hand shaking with fear to write, she penned a note to Marian, 
struggled to form words, write them. She lifted the boy, ran from the tent, 
casting her mind about for any volaran patterns. Sapphire was sleeping just a 
row away.
With drunken strides, Calli found the volaran, strapped Jetyer in as if he’d 
been a wounded Chevalier…and he was. Wounded already in this battle with evil 
that shrouded Lladrana and not yet nine. She vowed this would not happen again 
while she lived.
Shouting in Equine, Calli sent enough fear spurting into the volaran to rouse 
her. The mare tossed her head, rolled her eyes, backed.
Calli infused Sapphire with steely determination to leave the camp and fly to 
Marian and Jaquar. The winged horse remembered the Circlets. She could find 
Marian’s and Jaquar’s Songs, especially aloft and flying. Marian had been kind. 
Jaquar had had an interesting smell. She would find them. She would deliver 
Jetyer to them…and the warning about the bespelled encampment. She would save 
herself and bring help! Sapphire, the hero.
Heart thumping hard, Calli watched her soar, disappear too soon into the sky. A 
spell definitely lay upon this place like smog.
She’d rescued Jetyer, done the best to warn others.
But her husband and baby were missing. Her blood pumped sluggishly in her veins, 
cold with terror. The camp was so unnaturally quiet, Calli thought she’d run 
into the Dark lurking around the next tent corner.
She could feel the evil one—and accomplices—like a burning on her skin, against 
her Shield. The closer she got to them, the more her skin heated to bubbling. 
She gritted her teeth and pressed on.
At the break of a row, Calli stopped in horror. Before her was an open gathering 
space around a fire. The flames flickered cheerfully against the darkness—and 
illuminated the three people all too well.
Seeva bent over a sleeping form, framed the woman’s face, inhaled and drew the 
life, the Power from her. Calli could see it sparkle like bedewed diamonds from 
the noble Chevalier to Seeva. She’d never known that could be done. She 
shuddered. Of course she wouldn’t. She hadn’t been taught how to recognize or 
battle evil in human form.
Horror kept her still as she watched Raoul Lebeau strip the body of a jeweled 
necklace and rings. Then he speared the woman casually, as if making sure of the 
kill. He stepped back to observe her body sink into the ground to be embraced by 
Amee.
Lord Veenlit joined them, his face aged—by evil?—heavily jowled and ruddy in the 
firelight, holding a beautifully jeweled sword, stroking the hilt.
Seeva glanced at him. “You finally got what you wanted.”
“My enemy’s sword, yes. And riches.” He gloated.
Calli forced her gorge down. Stepped back in the shadows to look for a weapon, 
ducked into the nearest tent, and shivered with relief as she found it to be 
Koz’s. Anything she chose here would work for her, with her, on several levels. 
She saw the chest, ran over and hummed the keycode. It opened to show her the 
Damascene dagger, wickedly sharp, strong and Singing of the skill and magic of 
two worlds.
Grabbing it, she sped back out, just in time to see three more bodies vanish 
into the soil, the men pocketing more gems, and Seeva moving on toward her next 
victim—Koz. She set her hands on him, frowned.
“Another of those strong in Power and determination against the Dark?” Raoul 
mocked, but he sounded drunk. “So much harder to drain them, ain’t it?”
“Stop!” Calli shouted.
All three jerked to stand before her. Calli swallowed as she met Seeva’s eyes. 
Eyes living with evil, a smile all viciousness. “You,” Calli said, then. “Why?”
Seeva rubbed her hands. “Finally you come.” She glided forward a couple of 
steps.
Calli stood her ground. “Why?”
“The Dark needs a new servant, a Master of the horrors, that we might win 
dominion of Lladranan, of Amee.”
Calli’s mouth threatened to drop right open. “You wish to be the—the—” She 
couldn’t seem to get her brain around the thought.
Lifting her chin, Seeva said, “The new Master. She who rules the horror. She, 
who, after the Dark entity itself, is the most Powerful person on Amee.”
“The Singer—”
“Bah! A weak old woman.”
Before Calli’s eyes, the air around Seeva began to glow, lighting her 
brilliantly, with the brightness and abundance of her Power. The Power she’d 
stolen from others.
“Always and ever I had Power. Wanted to apprentice to a Circlet, but that wasn’t 
what people of our family did. So said my father when he was alive, and mother, 
and my sisters and brothers. None of them listened. None of them understood.”
“Why didn’t you just leave? Do it on your own?”
Seeva’s lip curled. “Live like a servant for years while I apprenticed to some 
arrogant Circlet who was lesser than me in nobility? Precious few Circlets come 
from the noble class. I petitioned the one I thought would be the most useful 
and she rejected me. Me! Sent me a note that she couldn’t be bothered with a 
girl who’d struggle to raise her Tower.” Seeva whirled and Calli looked for an 
opening, but the men watched her narrowly.
“That was then,” Seeva crooned. “But see me now, see how much Power I’ve taken, 
how much I will keep.”
“Enough magic from others that it has made you mad. You have little personal 
Song of your own left.” Calli licked her lips. “And the silver streak in your 
hair is no larger.” Maybe they all were wrong. Maybe Seeva couldn’t keep the 
Power she’d ripped from others.
Seeva snorted. “The silver is so easy to hide if you want to, and my mother 
preferred it.” She shoved back her locks and when her fingers released her hair, 
her whole head glowed silver—as silver as Alexa’s.
“You want my Power,” Calli said, gripping the hilt of Koz’s dagger hard.
With a glittering smile, Seeva nodded. “Ayes. From the moment you arrived—from 
before you arrived.”
“Alexa is too strong a warrior.” Calli was figuring it out. “Marian too strong a 
Circlet.”
Shrugging, Seeva said, “A matter of convenience. A Chevalier’s Power is closest 
to my ancestral family Power, and you are still untrained in the greatest uses, 
concentrating on your stupid volaran speak. You command weak animals. I will 
command potent monsters.”
She had a point in that Calli knew few purely Powerful offensive spells.
“But I will weaken you first.”
“You can’t use me like that.” She looked at Marrec lying on the ground. He 
appeared to be sleeping, but looked as tough and strong as usual. “And you 
couldn’t use Marrec, could you?”
Seeva laughed and it was ugly. Made her ugly. “Many are stupid and excellent 
sources. They’re too lazy to use their considerable Power, so I drain it off 
them just…like…this.” She put a hand on Raoul’s upper arm and sucked. He went up 
like a torch.
“Now, Seeva,” Veenlit scolded.
Seeva turned around and Calli’s blood froze in an instant. Seeva, the evil, 
crazy woman had a limp Diaminta in a backpack on her back. A cry tore from 
Calli.
Laughing, Seeva said, “She’s Powerful—a gift for the Dark.”
Calli leaped, fell far short.
Seeva gestured to Lord Veenlit. “Kill her.”
Calli had to be smart and accurate and fast. She rolled and lunged, butting her 
head hard in his solar plexus. He went down. Rolled and rolled again as Seeva 
stared. The woman had never been athletic. Calli came up behind her, fast. Power 
was making her fast. Desperation was making her fast.
Praying for accuracy, she slipped the dagger between Seeva’s back and the 
backpack, cut the straps cleanly, dropped the weapon to catch Diaminta. 
Thankfully the baby was still alive and asleep.
Marrec! she shrieked.
He shook his head, rocked to hands and knees.
Catch Diaminta! She made sure she met his gaze; he appeared dizzy but 
determined. He reared back to his heels and she tossed the baby to him. He 
caught her close, staggered to his feet.
Screaming fury, spittle flying, Seeva flung herself on Calli, fingernails 
ripping cheek and neck.
The pain steadied her, gave her something to focus on. She’d won. She’d saved 
her family. Now to kill the evil bitch who’d sold her soul to Darkness. They 
rolled. In mud. In blood. Calli pummeled the woman, gasping, hit her on both 
temples.
Thunder! she called.
I…I come. The sound of hooves echoed in her head, she thought she could hear the 
whir of wings.
Seeva was jerked away.
Calli fell back, saw Marrec’s enraged face. He held Seeva by the neck of her 
robe, had the dagger in his other hand.
He plunged it into her.
She arched, gurgled a cry, died.
Marrec fell, too.
Lord Veenlit had regained consciousness, grabbed the dagger, kicked Marrec in 
the ribs and staggered toward Calli. “You ruined it all!” He threw the knife. It 
flashed toward her, hideous pain speared her as it pinned her shoulder to the 
ground.
“You. Will. Pay,” Veenlit panted.
She couldn’t feel either of her hands, writhed and only made the wound worse. 
Desperate, she reached for Thunder’s mind.
Sweeping down, he kicked Veenlit in the head, followed him down to trample him 
into a bloody pulp in pure fear.
Calli fought through Thunder’s violent terror, clamped her will upon his to 
calm. But as he realized what he stood on, he shuddered, threw off her hold, 
began to panic.
The pain was a tearing ache, but helping Thunder distracted her. She could 
handle volaran panic. Once again she imposed her steady mind upon his. “Calm. 
Look at me and step sideways.”
Wiggling a foot the volaran could focus on, and biting her lip to stifle her 
scream, she drew Thunder’s attention.
With delicate steps, he shook each hoof and set it outside Veenlit’s body. 
Dropped his head, barrel heaving. Veenlit’s corpse sank into the ground.
Marrec was there, whispering tender words, removing the dagger with one clean 
stroke. He set his hands on both sides of the shoulder wound and pulled Power 
from Amee, from other minds now throwing off the enervating sleep. He healed 
her, banished her pain.
She gaped at him. He sagged beside her.
“How did you do that?”
“A once-in-a-lifetime gift from Amee, I think.” He rubbed his left temple. The 
silver streak there was wider than ever.
“Why aren’t you with our children?” Her voice rose.
He pulled her into his arms, cradling her close. “They are safe. Koz watches 
them.”
Calli turned her head to where she’d last seen Koz’s body. He wasn’t there.
“Why aren’t you with our children?” she repeated.
“Because you needed me more, beloved.”
In the sky, thunder rolled. Lightning struck in three forks, on the two darkened 
spots where Raoul’s and Veenlit’s corpses had lain, and incinerating Seeva’s 
body. It had not sunk into the ground. Seeva had been as evil as the horrors and 
Amee had not accepted her.
Alexa, Jaquar holding Jetyer, and Marian stood where the lightning hit. Jaquar 
let go of Jetyer and the boy ran to Calli and Marrec, sandwiching himself 
between them.
Marian and Jaquar linked hands and minds and swept their staffs around the 
encampment, chanting. Alexa looked shell-shocked. Her hair stood straight out 
from her head. She fumbled to sheath her baton, stared down at Seeva’s crisped 
remains.
“Eeww.”
More thunder, lightning.
Rain pummeled down, washing away the smog, cleansing everything, then stopped as 
suddenly as it came, and a dry, hot wind followed. Jaquar smiled.
Alexa shook her head. “Bad show.”
“Yes,” Calli said.
“I felt you,” Marian said. “Both Jaquar and I did. We all are linked enough for 
that. We met Alexa and landed, then rode lightning here.” She shook her head, 
glanced around at the sluggish camp. “The sleepiness wouldn’t have alarmed me.” 
She grimaced. “I think your death would have jolted me, but by then it would 
have been too late.”
“Far too late.” Calli coughed.
At that moment, Luthan arrived.
Calli jerked to her feet, glaring. “Your Singer set us up.”
He closed his eyes and sighed. “All three Exotiques live.” When he opened his 
lashes, he said, “Did Koz live?”
“Right here.” Koz exited his tent with Diaminta.
“Thank the Song, the best future won.” Luthan glanced down at Seeva. “She’s 
dead, good.” Then he met Calli’s gaze, face grim. “Only you could make 
everything turn out as it should. She would have been the best Master for the 
Dark. That has been prevented.”
Jaquar tilted his head. “I’ve just been notified that another Master to oversee 
the management and the invasion of the horrors has been chosen.”
“But it is not Seeva. That battle we won,” Luthan said.
“And it isn’t someone from us, from the Castle or the Chevaliers, who know us 
well,” Alexa said.
Silence.
“What?” asked Alexa.
“It’s someone from Castleton,” Jaquar said.
Calli gritted her teeth. “Still not quite as bad.”
“One of Townmaster Sevair Masif’s assistants,” Jaquar added.
“Ouch.” Calli winced.
Alexa tapped her baton. “The Community of the Cities and Towns have approached 
us to Summon the next Exotique.”
Sighing, Calli said, “And so it continues.”
“And so it continues.”
Then Diaminta began to yell. She wriggled and Koz put her down on her feet. She 
rocked a little, held out her arms to Calli. “Ma. Ma. Ma.” And staggered to her.
Marrec grinned. “Her first steps.”
Calli scooped up Diaminta. Her daughter nuzzled her, set her face against her 
and sighed a warm, good, baby breath onto her neck. Standing, she settled the 
little girl on one hip, stretched out her arm for Marrec. He moved in and put 
his solid arm around her waist, kissed her cheek. Jetyer joined them, grasping 
Marrec’s other arm and standing in front of them both. It would have made a 
perfect picture back home. Too bad they had no cameras on Lladrana.
“We’ll hire a painter this very month,” Marrec said. “To image us so our 
children’s children will know how we made a family. And we’ll trade services for 
a musician to set our Songs into the canvas with our images. Song willing, 
strains of us will live for a long, long time.”
Calli swallowed, pressed close to her husband as he shifted toward her. They’d 
survived. Through everything that had happened, on Lladrana and on Earth. They’d 
done more than survive, they’d triumphed, fulfilling the dreams of their own and 
their children, their children to come.
Volarans circled them, running around them, wings slightly lifted, in some 
ritual blessing of their own that flowed out and covered her and her family with 
sparkling Power, and Calli heard for the first time, the Song of the Volarans 
for their Exotique. Tears filled her eyes and she didn’t stop them as they 
meandered down her cheeks.
She kissed Diaminta’s soft black hair. “I love you, Diaminta.”
“Ma. Ma.” Her daughter snuggled closer.
Calli bent and made a loud smacking noise as she kissed Jetyer’s temple. He 
grinned up at her and she noticed he had a dimple. Like his father. “I love you, 
Jetyer.”
“I love you, Mama.” His eyes, too, sheened.
When she turned to kiss Marrec, his lips were there, a little open. Their mouths 
melded, his tongue caressed hers and sent Power through her. They withdrew from 
the kiss at the same time. His eyes were as deep and rich and soft as melted 
chocolate. “I love you, Calli.”
“I love you.”
The volarans stopped running and fanned around the family.
Alexa and Bastien, Marian and Jaquar faced them, all in attitudes reflecting 
their character.
“A real Hallmark moment,” Alexa said, hand on hip.
“You look a picture,” Marian said at the same time.
“Of a happy family,” Bastien said.
“We are a happy family,” Marrec said.
Content, Calli smiled.
“Let’s go make a home and a family and a life,” Marrec said.
“We’ll make a family,” Calli agreed. She glanced around the now-busy camp, 
bustling with Power and energy and life. The stars were bright against a black 
sky, and she felt like one of them, as the people around her were stars, too. 
Bright and burning. “But there will be a last battle.”
Marrec’s arm tightened like steel around her waist. His gaze had gone tough and 
hard. He nodded. “We’ll be there for that, too.”
“Together,” they said.

PROTECTOR OF THE FLIGHT
ISBN: 978-1-55254-859-2
Copyright © 2007 by Robin D. Owens
Author Photo by: Rose Beetem
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They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the 
author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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