15 Targeted (67 page)

“In this, I am afraid you do not, Mother Chundra,” Brother Hurx said mildly. “As Brother Gr’nir and I explained, once the Right of Conflict has been invoked, it must be carried through.”

“But this male—”

“Was named a candidate by you, yourself,” Brother Gr’nir said blandly. “Had you rejected him outright and not so named him, he would have no right to invoke the ancient law. But since his candidacy was acknowledged by the High Priestess and Head of the Holy Council, he is well within his rights.”

“I suggest we all go immediately to the Arena where this matter can be settled in combat,” Brother Hurx said.

“We…I…” Mother Chundra seemed to be at a loss for words. Clearly, Emily thought, she was used to the other two Council Members just falling in line and doing everything she said. The fact that they were backing someone besides her seemed to have left her momentarily at a loss.

“Come, the sooner we begin, the sooner the victor can be declared,” Brother Gr’nir urged her. “We must hurry—the
Khalla-to-be
may slip into the fourth stage of her
Tenrah
at any moment.”

“Very well,” Mother Chundra snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. “But I am not pleased about this. And there
will
be a reckoning for it—you may depend upon it.” She glared at Tragar and Emily and then swept down the aisle, looking neither right nor left as she went. She was followed by the other two members of the council, Turra, Lit’aal and Daro, murmuring earnestly together, and the twittering flock of priestesses. Emily and Tragar found themselves bringing up the rear.

“I’m so glad you came,” she whispered, looking up at him. “I was about to do something, well…desperate.” She held up the stalk of Bitter Sorrow.

“Poison!” Tragar grimaced and took it from her, throwing it down on the grassy floor of the grove. “I too, was about to do something desperate when I got a call from Xen’dex. He was the one who told me about the Right of Conflict.” He smiled and cupped her cheek. “That was when I decided to come back and do what you asked me to do—to fight for you.”

“Tragar…” She put her hands on his broad shoulders and looked into his eyes. “Thank you. But why don’t we just run away from here? Look, everybody else is going out to the Arena. Let’s just go get in your ship and make a break for it.”

His face looked serious. “I cannot. I must win the right to have you, Emily. And even if there was no sacred oath involved in invoking the Right of Conflict, you still need to stay here through the end of your
Tenrah
.”

“Why? What’s here that I can’t get anywhere else?” she demanded.

“The
lovesuckle
vines growing in the breeding suite,” he said, taking her hand in his. “Their blossoms breathe out a fragrance that make the passage from
Vlammen
to
Hel
much easier and less dangerous. Their scent contains a chemical your body needs when you begin to go into your breeding cycle.”

“All right.” Emily squeezed his hand. “We’ll stay. But I want you to know, you’re the
only
one I want in that breeding suite with me. You’re the only one I want to…to breed me when the time comes.”

His golden eyes flashed.

“I would not have it any other way, my
Khalla.
Now, come—the Arena awaits.”

Chapter Twenty-eight

The Arena area was a large, grassy circle with benches on either end of it that reminded Emily of every high school sporting event she’d ever been to. Daro was already there, standing beside Lit’aal who was gazing up at him with an expression of mingled fear and admiration on her face. For the first time, Emily wondered uneasily, what exactly this Right of Conflict involved. Was it just a hand-to-hand combat kind of thing? Or was it some kind of duel to the death?

She didn’t like to think about that. Though she didn’t want Daro for her chosen mate, he was a nice guy and she didn’t want him killed either. But she could foresee no other outcome of a death match with Tragar. He was, after all, a trained assassin. And he looked so much more deadly, standing there all in black in the pale Rageron sunlight, his long hair blowing in the wind and his golden eyes gleaming.

The High Priestess and the two other members of the Holy Council were conferring in whispers at the far side of the arena and the other priestesses had already taken their seats like spectators at a sporting match. Turra was standing behind the High Priestess with her arms crossed over her boney chest, the same sour look on her face.

“It appears that everyone is assembled—it is time.” The look on Tragar’s face was grim but calm.

“Tragar, be careful!” She gripped his arm hard. “I wish you didn’t have to do this.”

“But I do.” He cupped her cheek gently. “And I
want
to—it will be my honor to fight for you, my
Khalla.”

“But—”

Before she could finish her sentence, Emily saw a strange sight. The grassy arena was located on the edge of the plateau the Temple and its various adjunct buildings was built on. A few feet from the wide circle, it sloped down sharply into a steep hill. Now, coming over the crest of the hill, she saw four people—two men and two women.

The men looked to be Kindred—or something like Kindred, anyway. Both were extremely tall and muscular although one of them had slightly pointed ears. Both of the women had red hair but they didn’t look like sisters. One was tall and slender with long auburn hair that fell in waves down her back. The other had a riot of coppery-red curls that blew in the slight breeze. There were strands of gold in her hair that made it glimmer in the pale sunlight like a shimmering mass of rubies. She was tiny, Emily saw—no bigger than a large child. But she had the full breasts and hips of a woman and she moved with ease and confidence. In fact, right now she was moving directly towards Emily—all of them were.

“Emily!” the petite woman with the riot of red curls called. “Emily Brooks!”

“What in the Seven Hells?” Tragar growled, stepping in front of Emily protectively. “Who are you and what do you want?” he demanded, glaring at the woman, who was the first of the four to reach them.

“What we want is to know that Emily is safe.” She lifted her chin defiantly and looked him in the eyes, though she had to crane her neck to do it. “We have reason to believe that you abducted her from her home on Earth some time ago and we were sent by the Kindred High Chancellor, Commander Sylvan, to be certain that she’s well and safe.”

“I’m fine,” Emily said, stepping out from behind Tragar. “Really, I am! Or I will be if this whole Right of Conflict goes okay.” She looked uneasily at the arena and the High Priestess who was eyeing the newcomers with barely veiled hostility.

“What are you talking about? No, never mind—just touch me.” The girl with curly red hair put out her hand. “Then I’ll understand everything and I can explain to the others.”

“Is everything all right,
Lalli?”
the big male with slightly pointed ears asked, coming up behind her. He put an arm around her protectively and Emily thought she had never seen a more mis-matched pair—size-wise, anyway. He was huge and she was so tiny and delicate looking. Plus there was something animalistic about him—even more so than a Beast Kindred…

Suddenly she knew what he looked like—the men she’d met in the Howlund on G’nera. The ones Saskia had rescued her from! Could he be a Wulven Kindred? Weren’t they supposed to be incredibly dangerous?

For a moment she was worried about the tiny girl with curly red hair. But she was leaning into his touch, taking the support he offered freely. And from the way he was looking at her, his glowing blue eyes filled with love and adoration, Emily could tell there was a trust between them that anyone would envy.

“It’s going to be fine,” the girl answered him. “I’ll explain as soon as Emily shakes my hand. Go on,” she said, to Emily. “It’s okay—I don’t bite. I have a gift that will tell me all about you the minute our skin touches.”

“Well…” Emily didn’t see the harm in it but Tragar frowned and held her back.

“How do we know it’s safe for Emily to touch you? Who are you and what do you really want?”

“We’re trackers,” the big Kindred with the pointed ears and glowing blue eyes, growled. “I’m Rone and this is my bonded mate, Kate. We were hired to track Emily shortly after you abducted her. But our ship broke down so Solar and Kaylee here…” He nodded at the other couple who waved briefly. “Came along and helped us out. Otherwise we would have been here sooner.”

“We only want what’s good for you, honey,” the girl called Kate said earnestly. “Please, come back with us! We were sent to take you home.”

“But I can’t go home until…” Emily shook her head. “Oh, to heck with this. There’s too much to explain.” Reaching around Tragar’s restraining arm, she gripped the other girl’s hand.

Tragar started to protest but it only took a moment. After a second, Kate dropped Emily’s hand and nodded.

“Okay, I understand now. Hey, guys,” she said, turning to her mate and the other pair he had introduced as Solar and Kaylee. “Seems we came kind of in the middle of things. Emily’s okay but we’re going to have to wait until the situation here gets resolved before anyone goes anywhere.”

“What’s this? Who are these people and what do they want?” The High Priestess came striding up, her long robes swishing over the grass.

“We’re just spectators, Priestess.” Rone bowed his head respectfully. “For now, anyway.”

“We’re here for Emily—to back her up.” Kate gave Mother Chundra a very unfriendly look. Emily wondered if she’d seen what the High Priestess had been up to during their brief handshake. What kind of gift did she have, anyway?

“Well, you cannot stay! No one outside the Temple may witness the Right of Conflict,” Mother Chundra declared.

“A-hem.” Brother Hurx, who had followed her over, cleared his throat. “Actually, I am afraid you have gotten that particular law backwards, Mother Chundra. It clearly states that
anyone
can come to view a Right of Conflict, even if they are in no way affiliated with the Temple. In fact, having completely unrelated persons present was often encouraged in the past as it proved the veracity of the contest.”

“Oh, very well.” The High Priestess was looking angrier and angrier. “But whatever you do, stay out of the way. This is a contest to the death and we cannot have any outside interference.” She stalked away.

Emily felt her mouth go dry as she watched Mother Chundra leave.

“To…to the death? Did she say to the death?”

“Do not worry about it.” Tragar’s eyes gleamed. “I will dispatch the other candidate and we will be together before you know it.”

“No, it’s not that!” Emily took his arm as Kate and Rone and the other couple went to sit on the benches. “I know you can slaughter him in no time flat—I just don’t want you to!”

“What?” Tragar frowned. “Have you suddenly developed feelings for him? Do you wish me to step aside and let you mate him instead?”

“Of
course
not!” Emily exclaimed. “Would I threaten to kill myself if they wouldn’t let me be with you if
that
was how I felt?”

He shook his head. “Well, then why—?”

“Because he’s a really nice guy,” Emily said earnestly. “And because Lit’aal over there is in love with him. Just look at the two of them!” She gestured to where Lit’aal was holding Daro’s arm much in the way she was holding Tragar’s. There was an anxious look on her face and she and Daro were talking softly, leaning in to each other to get closer.

“Seven Hells,” Tragar muttered savagely. “I had hoped to be fighting against an opponent who deserved death. I thought that anyone who dared to take you away from me fell squarely into that category.”

“He only agreed to take me on because Lit’aal told him how hard this whole process has been for me,” Emily said in a low voice. “All the other candidates think of me as damaged goods—you saw how they looked at me.”