Dance With the Enemy (2 page)

Chapter 1

The End…..for now!

The young woman lifted her eyes, satisfied with the words she’d just penned. The smile that haunted her lips lent a false sense of contentment to her flawless features. She closed her journal, caressing the cover, tracing the indented image of a young girl gazing up at the stars in a night sky. Her fingers knew every bump, every crease, every line of that cover. A gift from her grandmother, she’d been writing in it since she was old enough to write, old enough to understand who she was.

And who she was loomed before her, ready to create the story that would fill the blank pages of the rest of her life.

The firstborn daughter of Madrik and Senya Avenille of Aleone, her mother was a direct descendant of the royal family. The fact that Senya’s lineage came from the King’s sister, just as Elenya’s own lineage came from a woman, mattered little. Her blood was still royal, from a line known for producing exceedingly beautiful women with distinguishing emerald eyes and hair the perfect combination of cinnamon and honey. And in a decision to end Aleone’s undeserved exile, she’d been
chosen.

A simple injection had marked her for a match with a man also from the royal lines. The serum, perfected by the Masters centuries ago, contained a vial of her future mate’s blood, taken when he was three, and mixed with other unrevealed components. The celebration of her third birthday, some unknown years behind her husband-to-be, was observed with a grand ceremony. She remembered the joy, all eyes on her, hailing her as her Drille’s salvation. She’d been honored, lavished with attention and gifts that poured in from other Drilles. The trinkets and monetary gifts represented adulation in their extravagance that dizzied the child for whom they were intended. She knew she was special, even above others marked that year within the kingdom of Dorengar.

There was an awfulness that accompanied the marking as well, something she didn’t like to think about, though her imminent parting seemed to open the floodgates, those memories refusing to be held back now, on the eve of her departure. It wasn’t until the ceremony had neared the end that the beast of reality reared its ugly head. Her small body strapped to the stone altar at the front of the gathering hall, she lay still, terrified as one of the Masters lifted the syringe high in the air, blessing it, blessing her before plunging its length into her outstretched arm.

Even at three she’d been taught about the marking, though no one had told her about this part, how she would be gagged and tied, her parents held back by guards as the liquid poured from that vial into her. She remembered the heat flowing through her tiny veins. She’d tried to scream, a silk cloth keeping the sound inside while the room began to spin above her head. A blurred face peered down into hers, one of the Masters. His lips moved, she’d heard sound, though his words were unintelligible, seeming to come from the far end of a long tunnel.

When her body stilled, the convulsing stopped, she found herself veiled in peace. She remembered turning her head, a slow, labored movement. Her vision swam before settling on her parents. The guards still blocked them from her. Her father, red faced, had to be physically restrained while tears fell from her mother’s green eyes, streaking otherwise perfect porcelain cheeks. Elenya had never seen her mother cry.

“Mamma.” The word was whispered when the cloth was removed from her mouth. A single tear grazed her temple, dropping to the table beneath her head.

Everyone within the hall stood quiet, sobered. Because of the length of the exile, the marking ceremony was mostly foreign to the citizens of Aleone. No one had expected what they saw, that such treatment would be thrust upon an innocent child. And why? So that royal bloodlines would be assured. Even in exile, the families of Aleone had maintained certain marrying protocol to assure that matches were made only among the pure and strong within the lines of the royal. They had planned and prepared, doing so without the need for barbaric markings or marriages among unwilling parties, young maidens pulled away from their families to face the unknown alone. The women and their families were supposed to feel honored. To Elenya, it felt as though they were little more than glorified breeding stock.

She was reminded continually that she should be proud, that her marking had restored Aleone’s grace with the Centrehead. She was also told there was no way she could have remembered the marking, that she was too young. But she did remember. The whole event imprinted vividly within her head … and in the pages of her journal. It was all a part of who she was.

A wistful smile tugged the corners of her naturally tinted lips as she rose and crossed the room to look at her reflection in the gazing ball. That little girl stared back in the form of a woman, looking very much as her mother had some fifteen years before. The years had transported the child, now maiden, to the time she must go to meet the man whose blood she bore.

She laid the journal on the table and reached for the carving that sat beside the globe, her fingers caressing its smooth curves even before her eyes fell upon it. Another smile flitted across her face, this one genuine, though whether it was from thoughts of the entangled wooden figures she held or for the one who had given it to her was anyone’s guess.

“Soon enough that will be you, just as I’d imagined when I procured it.” The deep voice resonating quietly into her chamber caught Elenya off guard. She wheeled toward the window, her face aglow with candid welcome.

“Shemek!” She rushed toward the young man lounging against the wall just inside her window. His lazy smile lifted the corners of his mouth and her heart. “I wondered when you would be able to come. There are so many guards. Oh, Shemek! I’m so glad you’re here.”

Her delight was unmistakable as she threw herself into his arms.

Shemek held her close, her head resting against his breaking heart as he stroked the length of her loose, dark red curls. “You’re shaking, Ya.” His use of her childhood nickname made her want to cry. She held it in, for her and for him, smiling instead as he tipped her face up to his. “What’s wrong? And don’t tell me you’re cold.” He knew her too well. Even with the night breeze coming off the water, the air of Aleone remained balmy.

He also knew the answer to his question. They both did. She wasn’t cold. Her trembling came from the fears of a young woman about to embark on the unknown. Leaving the only man who had ever held her heart made fulfilling her duty to her people that much harder.

As Shemek stared down at her, he longed to hear her tell him how she felt. They both knew they were words she would never say regardless of the volumes spoken from her soul shining behind the green eyes that bore into his.

“You’ll be fine!” He broadened his smile, pushing her back to take her hands in his. He brought them to his lips. “Ya, there’s no way he will not fall madly in love the moment he sets eyes upon you. You’ll see. He’ll lavish you with his affections, shower you with finery, and you’ll forget all about this crazy world where we live.”

Elenya grimaced and pulled away, turning her back on her old friend. She shook her head. She didn’t want to forget. This was her home, they were her people. She loved them. She loved him… She walked to the table where her journal lay. Tomorrow she would begin to write within a new book, but tonight, she only wanted to remember, to feel Aleone.

“Can you sneak me outside, Shemek?” They both knew he could. Shemek was a master at getting around undetected. “I want to see the stars above Aleone one last time.” Her voice broke. She closed her eyes willing the tears to subside.

Shemek didn’t try to comfort her, didn’t speak. Instead, he dimmed her chamber’s light and slipped his hand around hers. With the stealth of the warrior he was, he led her out the window, through the shadows, and into the night.

They stopped far down the beach at a secluded spot secure from the view of any wandering villagers. Elenya breathed deeply, relishing the familiar scent of Aleone air. She kicked off her shoes to caress the sand, imprinting the feel of it between her toes. No, she didn’t want to forget. She tilted her head up, taking in the stars in the night sky, just as the girl did on her journal front. How different would they look in her new life? Would she be able to see them from the Centrehead, to know Shemek was staring at the same stars back home?

“You will come see me, yes?” She waited for his answer, looking at him only when it did not come. The moon was bright enough for her to clearly see the pain etched in the lines of his face. “My sister, Shemek… Surely my family will join me eventually, wherever I end up. Marry her and join them. Join me.”

Again Shemek didn’t answer. Elenya moved quickly, dropping to her knees before him, grabbing his hands into her own and pressing her forehead to them. She looked up, imploring him with her eyes, her lips grazing his knuckles as he’d done to hers not so long before. “Please, Shemek,” her words wrapping around him in a whisper on the night winds.

“Elenya.” He grasped her upper arms, pulled her up to face him. “Tomorrow you begin anew. What you have now,” he motioned around with a circular gyration of his hand, then shook his head. “No, Elenya. You must say goodbye for good. Why should your sister give up her future? No, I will not break your sister’s heart for my own, knowing that seeing you with the one for whom you were marked will pain me more than never seeing you again. I feel certain it would drive me quite mad.” He shook his head again. “No, Ya. No. This is the end.”

Elenya couldn’t keep the tears from her eyes nor could she help as they spilled onto her cheeks. “Yet, it is well enough that I must give up.” Her words, nearly inaudible, screamed of self-sacrifice.

Shemek nodded. “Like the stars, you must shine for all of us. You are Aleone’s future. Your sacrifice has opened gates kept shut against us. It’s what you were born to do.” He pointed at the sky and Elenya looked up, the stars orbed spears through her tears. “They shine alone, yet every night they still shine and are greatly loved by those who watch them from afar. Even for those who know they will never touch them.”

Fresh tears coursed down her face. Shemek wiped at them with his thumb, to no avail. And then he surprised her by doing something he’d never done before. He lowered his head to hers, covering her lips with his own.

Heat swept through Elenya nearly rivaling that of the marking. Breathing became difficult, her legs weakened and Shemek caught her, pressing her into him as his lips continued their silent demand.

They were both shaking when he finally pushed Elenya away from him, knowing that kissing her violated Drille code. Since she was
chosen
, it was an offense punishable by death in order to keep her pure.

She continued to look up at the sky as he led her away, her heart lighter as they walked back toward her family’s home. A smile played across her swollen lips. Tomorrow she would leave, a piece of Shemek seared into her heart. He had risked his life by kissing her, and though she was sure he meant it as a kiss goodbye, she knew the effect it’d had on him. Somehow, someway, he would find her again. And even if he didn’t, she knew a part of him would always love her. That was enough to allow her to look forward to a new dream, one that had begun to take hold the day she was marked.

Yes, life as she knew it was over, but now Elenya saw it for what it truly was: a continuation. She would rise with the sun tomorrow morning, setting out toward her new life. And in the evening she would gaze up at the stars that now represented for her a different kind of hope. She thought of the words she’d written in her journal and knew they were truer than she’d thought. As penned, this was only the end…for now.

Chapter 2

Tahruk slipped his arms into the soft fabric of the dove gray tunic he would wear to the gathering. With a poorly contained tremble, the corisan’s small hand inched forward to smooth the lines over his charge’s thick biceps only to be pushed away. Tahruk’s countenance was darker than it should have been for one preparing for celebration. The time of the Dremis was upon them.

With clipped movements the warrior wrapped a near-black sash around his waist and tightened it with a sturdy jerk. He despised this yearly ritual, hated the fact that the Masters chose whom the elite would marry. Not that he cared. He’d never had any need for love, observing marriage as a mere means to fulfill his obligation to beget children. Besides, his
chosen
had eluded him for eight years. Few were the men who reached his age of twenty and six without being bound by some maiden at the Dremis gathering. Perhaps the Masters had forgotten him.

He smiled, only the corners of his full lips twitching upward to match the wickedness of his thoughts. Either way, his bed would be warmed by an unknown maiden, one as fresh as the new clothing that hung on his powerful frame. Hopefully she would be one of the women brought in specifically for the pleasures of the warriors whose
chosen
had not yet arrived. He wondered… he’d heard this year’s gathering was far more alluring in their innocence than in most years, though tonight he craved a maiden perhaps knowledgeable even though unskilled. Too often the young women, made up to whet the appetites of the too long denied warriors, were fearful, untaught -- combinations that did not go well together. Tahruk had never minded, really. Under normal circumstances he very much enjoyed his part of easing a reserved maiden into her new position as a Lady of the Courts. He was known for leaving ladies skilled in the art of love, a proficiency appreciated by visitors and need-laden warriors fresh from training or the fields of battle.

Why then did he not feel the weightless anticipation that usually accompanied preparation for the ceremony? Though true that he despised the ceremony’s reasons for being, he was usually able to look beyond the fanfare to the payoff. And then to the three weeks of rest that followed. Tonight, though, he wore a brooding veil that refused to lift.

Your enemy will soon walk by your side
.

The odd words darted through his mind, pinging within Tahruk’s head while he pulled on his boots. He knew the exile had been lifted from his family’s enemy and their
chosen
was said to be in the midst of the Dremis maidens. Again Tahruk wondered why her presence should concern him. Since her marking some fifteen years ago, their exile had ceased and her people had begun to venture to the Centrehead, though not yet in the masses that were sure to come with her union. Some already trained alongside the royal guard.

He supposed his concerns lay in her match. Depending on whose blood she carried, her family may very well be spending a lot of time near Zanak – his family Drille. It seemed likely since the majority of Drilles were centered about Dorengar’s Centrehead that she would be living close by. He sighed. Their families would be forced into becoming civil neighbors after being at odds for nearly a century. The Courts would demand it, especially with Princess Damalenya’s line continuing their cause, claiming the death of the Aleone man should have served as punishment enough and that the exile as a whole was unjust.

Damn their claim! Zanak had been wronged. Life had been lost there too. The woman, marked for someone else, had given birth to a child, a scrawny boy with hair the color of honeyed cinnamon, not long before the woman’s death. And soon after, the child had died as well. How could they not believe the punishment was just? And what did it matter to him? He would not be paired with the daughter of his enemy. As absurd as the reasoning for these pairings seemed, so that the royal bloodlines would remain pure and strong, idiocy in the matches did not appear to rein. Thankfully.

The dark gray breeches of the softest leather received a rough thrust into black boots before the warrior straightened, towering over the man sent to assist him. He paid little heed to the corisan, bellowing instead for Nema. The older woman breezed in, pride simmering in the depths of her eyes nearly as dark as Tahruk’s blue-black ones. She looked him over, her neck craning toward the ceiling to take in all of him.

“A finer man among the elite has never been, my lord.” Her voice cracked, garnering a sharp scowl from the young warrior. She chuckled, nonplused by his dark demeanor, and brushed away an errant tear. “Your
chosen
will be honored to carry your blood, and your children.”

Tahruk huffed, pushing back a strand of the night black hair as it escaped its leather tie. “Were my
chosen
here to see me … perhaps. Though, if she were, I would surely know,” he ground out between clenched teeth.

“As you say.” Nema pointed to a chair near the garden door of Tahruk’s chamber. “Now sit so I may properly bind your hair. You have a long night ahead of you.”

He stared at her for a few moments before complying, both of them continuing in silence -- the warrior’s thoughts returned to the feeling that gnawed his insides, Nema on what she believed she knew to be true. If she was right, tonight would change the course of the young master’s life.

“Why do you smile, Nema? You look as guilty as a cat whose mouth is full of yellow feathers.” His eyes locked with hers in the reflection of the gazing glass before him. “What do you know?”

“No more than you.” Her gaze was steady, lips thinned after she answered.

“My senses tell me nothing.” One fine brow shot up.

“You have already said as much.”

Tahruk watched, knowing her shrewd senses were on alert. She would know, perhaps even before he knew himself, that his body sensed the presence of his
chosen
. “Your intuition tells you otherwise?”

The older woman who had always been a part of his life, who had acted as his nursemaid and governess when he was young, sat at the family table, and took the same liberties as any other family member didn’t answer at first. Instead she stared out the garden door appearing to look beyond the lovely flowers.

Tahruk’s heartbeat quickened, his mouth drying as he watched her, relaxing only slightly when she shrugged her bony shoulders.

“We all wait in anticipation, my lord. Each year, you go to the ceremony while we idle away the hours, hopeful your
chosen
will be among the maidens and the match will be superior. Until she arrives, it will be so.”

The warrior stood, drawing the older woman’s gaze back to him. She smiled. He returned the gesture before pulling her to him. “You are a terrible liar, Nema.”.

Her aged cackle rose into the air as she pushed him away. “An old woman is unfit for the arms of a mighty warrior when fair maidens await, my lord. And you shall much sooner find your answer there than here.” She shooed him toward the chamber’s door with a look over her shoulder. “See, the Dremis moon has begun to shine. Make haste, lad.”

Tahruk turned in the doorframe to see the moonlight beginning to creep in through the garden door. Only Nema, who knew him even better perhaps than his own mother, understood the flash of emotions that played across his handsome face before his warrior’s mask dropped firmly into place.

“Do not wait up, Nema, for the lady I bring home will surely not be my own,” he practically growled. He looked at her one more time, then turned, a confident stride removing him from her presence where he pushed out into the night, wishing the moonlight would wash away the churning he felt inside.