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  Bethara held the reins tight as she steadied her mount and eased to the ground. She tried to peer into the castle’s inky darkness but saw nothing. Where the hell had Dragon gone? A bone-chilling scream echoed from inside. It was a feminine voice but had a supernatural echo. It quelled any curiosity she might have had. There was absolutely no way Bethara was going in there. She could barely muster enough courage to stay where she was. Without warning, a frosty breeze rushed over her, almost causing her to tumble down the steps. Luckily, she kept her grip in the reins.

  “Dragon?”

  No answer.

  This was it. Bethara wanted to go. She climbed back on her hyperia and nestled in the saddle. What could possibly be taking him so long? When they got back, she and Harlan were going to have a serious talk about Dragon. She didn’t want to be his caretaker anymore. All she wanted was a normal life. To do that she needed to be free of him and all the creepy elements that surrounded him.

  “Dragon!”

  Silence.

  “Dragon Theron!” she yelled as loud as she could. “You had better answer me or I am taking my animal and leaving! Then you can walk home.”

  Strange, eerie voices whispered to her from the dark. They offered temptations into...something. Cool shivers ran up her arms and tingled down her neck and back. Invisible danger lurked everywhere. She so wanted to leave this place. Bethara pulled in a deep breath to shout his name one last time. Before any sound came he emerged through the open doors and mounted up in front of her. He said nothing. The doors slammed behind him. The thing that caught her eye, making her seethe the most, was that he wasn’t carrying anything, not a damn thing.

  Bethara wrapped her arms around his waist but couldn't resist the urge to interrogate him. “So where is all of this important stuff you came here to get?”

  Dragon pressed his spurs into her hyperia's sides, causing the animal to growl and lurch forward into a gallop. “I couldn’t find it.”

  They raced across the land bridge so fast, Bethara was sure her animal would lose its footing and send all three of them plunging to their deaths. She squeezed Dragon while closing her eyes. I know you're lying to me. I just don't know why.

  Chapter 6

  “Well?” Desmond said, pacing the sandstone floor in one of the hospital's private waiting rooms. Scarlet was hungrily devouring some protein cubes, which gave him a minimal amount of comfort.

  “Well what?” his wife replied, smiling triumphantly, like she'd just won a prize at the Spring Festival.

  “How are you feeling?”

  Scarlet popped another cube in her mouth. “Much better, thanks.” She was resting on a plush reclining chair, not in a bed like Desmond had wanted.

  Before he could get her into a patient room or a bed, his wife had woken up and insisted that he put her down. Thank the gods she had still been unconscious when he got to the hospital or that would have been another fight.

  Doctors Harlan and Krull had suggested she stay the night, but as usual his wife refused. She was adamant that as soon as she finished eating she was going home. It wasn't the first time Desmond had to fight off the urge to wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze.

  He stopped pacing and stood in front of the door with his arms folded, as though that act in itself would make her stay the night. “Will you please stay until tomorrow morning so they can keep any eye on you?”

  “No, I will not.”

  “And why will you not?” he said through his teeth, abandoning any attempt to hide his anger.

  She stuffed the last morsel into her mouth and sat up. Stretching her arms above her head she said, “Because I’m feeling much better. Harlan and Krull are busy enough and being pregnant isn’t a disease.”

  Desmond was through talking to her. He stalked out of the room to go find Krull or Harlan. He came to Krull's office first, slipping in and pulling the door closed as quietly as he could.

  The Kirillian had been sitting behind his desk writing in a paper chart. That struck him as odd because most things in the new hospital were dictated directly into wall terminals or ear pieces. The doctor put his pen down and stared at Desmond with an expression of patience.

  To impede his wife’s eavesdropping, Desmond spoke to Krull in Kirillian.

  “When are you going to get that baby out of her?”

  Krull glanced at the door. “We really should have Scarlet in here too. She has a say in her treatment.”

  “I’m not taking away her say. I'm just asking a question.”

  “When we are sure the baby is strong enough,” Krull answered.

  Desmond pointed at the office door. “It’s killing her.”

  Like a Saleen raptor that caught the scent of prey, the door opened and Scarlet marched in. Desmond wasn't sure if her flushed cheeks were the result of her pregnancy or because she was pissed off. Her eyes were rimmed in dark, reddish circles and narrowed the moment they spotted him.

  I guess I'll go with pissed off.

  “What are you doing?” she asked sharply. “And don't lie. I know you're talking about me.” Then she spun toward him. “You know, Desmond, I do speak and understand Kirillian. Just because the dialect is different doesn't mean I'm completely clueless.”

  Desmond scowled. “Calm down. I don't think you're clueless. I’m just asking Dr. Krull for his professional opinion.”

  Scarlet folded her arms tightly atop her enormous stomach. “I happen to be a doctor too. Why not ask my professional opinion?”

  “Because I never stop getting your opinion. Now I want someone else's.”

  Krull sighed. “Scarlet, your husband is only worried about you. You shouldn’t be angry with him for that.”

  If this was the only backup Desmond was getting, he’d take it. “Yeah.”

  “I’m ready to go home now,” Scarlet announced.

  “You don’t say?” Desmond dug in. “Well I’m not. I want my damned second opinion.”

  “Scarlet,” Krull said in a soft diplomatic tone, “maybe we should explore inducing you.”

  Desmond could feel victory within reach. He wanted his wife free of this agonizing pregnancy. It was killing him too.

  “I think that is premature. Call Harlan.” She swayed a little and Desmond’s stomach iced over. He took a step closer to her because she didn’t look well at all. He was torn between fighting her on this and letting up so she didn't get overly stressed.

  Krull used the wall intercom to call Harlan in. That struck Desmond as odd too. The intercom was used for backup emergency communication only.

  “Is something wrong with the personal communication devices?” Desmond asked.

  Krull got up and went to his office door. “Our technology was either stolen or repossessed from the hospital last night.”

  Krull opened the door for Harlan. She came in with a smile and he closed it behind her before returning to his chair.

  “It’s like a party in here,” she said taking a seat on the edge of Krull's desk.

  Scarlet frowned. “Not exactly.” She pointed an accusing finger at Desmond. “He's fighting with me again about my health. Will you tell him to stop worrying and stay out of it?”

  The smile melted from Harlan’s face as her gaze ran down Scarlet’s body. Desmond felt himself grow cold as he followed Harlan's eyes. A dark, crimson stain had spread through the front of his wife’s gray cotton pants. He was only vaguely aware that Harlan had jumped to her feet and bolted into the hallway shouting orders to medics. Krull ran from behind the desk toward her. Desmond turned toward Scarlet and when her knees buckled, he scooped her up before she reached the floor. Every sound around him slipped into the background. All he could hear was the quickening of his own breath and the thumping of his heart.

  Harlan gestured to the hallway and followed behind Desmond as he rushed Scarlet down to the closest surgery suite. There were already a few gowned medics preparing the room. He gingerly placed his wife on the table and looked for the rise and fall of her chest. She
was still breathing, but whatever was happening was really bad.

  Krull and two medics pushed Desmond out of the room. At first he stood his ground and resisted them, but then he just backed out. The doors closed, cutting off any sight of his wife. The frosted windows only allowed him to see moving shadows. Everything around him faded. He looked down to where he felt dampness. The front of his uniform was drenched with blood; his hands and forearms red and sticky below his rolled up sleeves. What am I going to do if she dies?

  Desmond had no idea how long he stood outside the surgery room. It could have been minutes or hours. A hand gripped his shoulder, startling him. Turning, he was surprised to see it was Gavin.

  “Come, boy, let’s go sit down.”

  Desmond shrugged his father’s hand off. Looking back toward the door, he moved in closer, trying to discern what the shapes were doing.

  “No,” he said. “I have to stay. I should be with her.”

  Gavin grabbed Desmond’s jaw hard, turning him halfway around. “Look at me!”

  Desmond glared into his father’s one good golden eye. “What?”

  “I promise you, she will live. But you must let Harlan and Krull work. They will save her. Now come with me.”

  Desmond knew Gavin was only telling him what he desperately needed to hear. Logically his father couldn’t possibly know if Scarlet would live or die. But a part of him wanted to believe Gavin so much, and he was so tired of arguing with everyone that he had lost the will to fight. If he forced his way into the operating room he would take attention away from Scarlet and he didn't want that.

  Deflated, he resigned himself to following his father down the hallway. Gavin guided him to the small private waiting room he had been in with Scarlet before everything went to hell. Desmond lowered himself into a chair. His father took the seat next to him. The only thing left to do was wait and hope.

  Chapter 7

  Gypsy showed up at her victory party because she was required to. Tannyth had announced the festivities to all the nobles in the arena’s great hall and no one dared snub her, Gypsy least of all. If it hadn't been for Tannyth's financial and political support, she would have never made it this far. Gypsy sat in a far corner of the tavern and watched as everyone congratulated Tannyth like she had been the one fighting.

  Most of the nobles stopped by her corner table. They brought her drinks and congratulated her. Gypsy smiled and engaged in polite chitchat, but she wasn’t welcoming. For the most part she watched the nobles get drunk, ignoring the eight drinks in front of her. After an hour she allowed her eyes to close for a moment. Exhaustion swept through every part of her as her body begged for sleep.

  “Do you mind if I sit?” Gypsy was taken aback that Tannyth's husband, Grand Duke Molitov von Goth, stood at her table. It was a surprise because he was intensely private and didn't often attend parties.

  “You know I don't mind, Lord. Please.” She gestured to the seat across from her.

  He removed his signature monocle and placed it in his breast pocket then slid into the seat across from her. Despite their one time sexual romp for Tannyth's benefit, there was no chemistry between them. In fact, he gave off almost a fatherly air when he looked at her.

  “Husband troubles?” he asked.

  Gypsy laughed bitterly. “Is it that obvious, or does gossip travel that fast?”

  “A little bit of both perhaps. I doubt I'm the only one who noticed his absence today. Even now he is nowhere to be found and you sit alone in no mood to celebrate your victory.”

  “You're right. My marriage is all but over and I am ashamed of my arena win.” She chewed her lower lip, feeling her eyes sting. A deep breath steadied her. She wasn’t sure why she was sharing this with the Grand Duke, but it made her feel a little better.

  “Don't be remorseful over the outcome of your match. All fighters know the opportunity to surrender is nothing more than a wan courtesy. No matter what he told you, I have no doubt that Wynter would have killed you just for the notoriety of having been the one to do so.”

  “I didn't know I could do that with my bare hands. It felt like I cheated.”

  “Don't be ridiculous. You killed him with a newfound skill, nothing more. There was nothing dishonorable in it. He was caught unprepared just as you were when he pointed out Scarlet's distress.”

  “Yeah, that was stupid and by all rights should have gotten me killed.” She let out a deep sigh and leaned her head against the wood-paneled wall. “I should've known better.”

  “Those are the follies of youth and inexperience. You won't make that mistake again. Learn and let it go. As for what is causing the bulk of your distress, I am confident that you will work through that as well. All marriages have their problems. You and Commander Kharon share something very special that isn't so easily ignored.”

  “It doesn't matter. He doesn't want me anymore.” Gypsy bit down hard on her lower lip, allowing the physical pain to cloak the storm of emotions.

  Molitov stood and affectionately stroked her hair. “Don't be so sure of that,” he replied before strolling out the front door.

  The evening dragged on with the comings and goings of the party attendees. When two more hours passed, Gypsy felt like she had been there long enough to show respect. She got up to leave and felt a hand squeeze her shoulder.

  “Wait, please,” a familiar voice said warmly.

  Looking over her shoulder she saw it was Kharon. His presence shocked her enough to sit back down. He took Molitov’s old seat across from her.

  “What do you want? I thought you were busy chasing Caraculla.” She tried to make her voice sound cold and disinterested.

  “I heard about your victory from some traders. I came to wish you congratulations.”

  Gypsy shrugged, avoiding eye contact, and stared at the drinks on the table. He was causing her so much agony she wished he'd just go away. She wasn't ready for this.

  “Talk is that you killed him rather unconventionally. Do you still train with Augustus?”

  “No,” she said barely above a whisper. Even after talking to Molitov, shame still ran through her as she remembered the last few minutes of her match. “I should have given Wynter the chance to surrender.”

  Kharon got up and moved into the booth next to her. He shifted in his seat so their thighs were touching. “That doesn't matter. This was an honor challenge. There was no guarantee he would have done the same. These challenges usually end in death. Astor would have never allowed me to yield, or I him.”

  Gypsy remembered how Count Vadeem had issued an honor challenge to Kharon because of her. It was the day of her graduation from the academy, which was no coincidence. The match occurred immediately afterward, ruining any opportunity for celebration. Vadeem's champion was a warrior named Astor, and Kharon killed him that day.

  Kharon slid his arm across her shoulders and Gypsy stiffened, both wanting him to stay and still wishing he'd leave.

  “Besides, had you not killed him, I imagine the Grand Duchess’ wrath would have been worse. It is done. There will be more challenges to worry about,” he said in a low rumble that tickled her ear.

  “Is that it? If so, then let me out. I'm bored and ready to leave.”

  Gypsy slammed her palms against his side trying to shove him out. Unfortunately, unseating a warrior who is twice your weight is a futile gesture. Her husband remained where he sat. Gypsy slumped toward the wall away from him, angrily crossing her arms across her chest. Finally she said, “Go on and finish what you want to say.”

  He squeezed her shoulders to pull her over and leaned in close. His mismatched eyes held a sober misery.

  “I’m sorry I told you I wanted to put our marriage aside. It was cruel and a mistake. I was angry and jealous and I admit I did it to hurt you. If I could take it back I would. I truly want to stay your husband if you will still have me.”

  Her throat tightened but she remained stoic. “Do whatever you want. Are we done now?”

  Gypsy w
anted him to be angry, but he wasn't. Instead he took her hand in his large, calloused one and held it. Then he opened his mind to her a little.

  The tavern and everything melted away as she became awash in his emotions. She felt his anger at Gavin for releasing Caraculla; it mingled with his rage and shame at being denied justice. There was mild anger at her as well for not being more supportive about it. But there was a strained understanding that showed he was trying to accept things that he didn't like, especially about Caraculla.

  She pulled her mind back and let him feel the anguish he'd caused her over these past few months. It was true that she didn't want Caraculla dead, but it didn't dilute how much she loved Kharon and how easily he could ravage her emotions. Their communion was painful but healing.

  “Look at me,” he commanded.

  Gypsy did.

  “I do love you more than anything. We will get through this.” Kharon pulled her into his arms and held her for a long time, opening his mind even more. It felt good to be even this close to him. He was trying.

  They left the party together and walked along the deserted Imperial streets. Kharon forced her to hold his hand the entire time.

  As they passed one of the brothels he grinned and said, “Now tell me about your new lover.”

  Gypsy tried to be casual. “You were rooting around in my head, so you already know he’s Falken.”

  He nodded and seemed deep in thought. “Word has it he is engaged to be married very soon. Watch out for his betrothed. Noblewomen are no strangers to treachery when they want to protect what is theirs. Unlike men, there are no arena fights.”

  “Why should she care? I'm already married and there isn't a drop of noble blood in me. I am hardly a threat.”

  “Is it only sex between you two?”

  Gypsy stopped and turned to face him. She didn't want to hold back. “So far.”