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  “What kind of training?” Candace asked, jockeying to get closer to Lilith as they walked towards a second set of doors that looked like glass—a rarity in Dome City—darkened to a smoky opacity.

  Lilith glanced back at Candace with searching eyes. “I’m sure I don’t know. I never asked.”

  Stacia found the entire interplay curious. Lilith was acting a bit strange towards Candace and even Deon, but it wasn’t surprising her best friend would be defensive towards other humans. Though she was now the official liaison to DC, humans had a tendency to treat Lilith like a freak—or something even worse—for taking an umbrose as a lover. Yet, they all went groveling to her whenever they wanted something from the umbrose. It was an interesting position for Lilith to be in, and one Stacia didn’t think her friend appreciated.

  The double doors opened before they could touch them. As soon as they entered, an excited young male umbrose approached them, bowing to Lilith, his wingtips touching above his head. “My Lady, honored guests, the prince has blessed us with his presence this dawning. He has requested that you and your guest dine with him in the Royal Room.”

  “What of us?” Candace asked before Lilith had a chance to respond.

  The male umbrose blinked in surprise at her question. “My Lady’s handmaidens will surely join her for breakfast. Are you not Stacia Dornan’s handmaiden?”

  “Yes! I’m Ms. Dornan’s handmaiden,” Candace said, winking at Stacia above the rather plain veil she’d donned before their tour.

  Stacia shrugged, more concerned with the unexpected meeting than with Candace’s misrepresentation of her position. If Candace wanted to play handmaiden, then Stacia would let her. The other woman was no servant. It would be interesting to see how she dealt with her role.

  “Very good,” the umbrose said. Then he eyed Deon with an assessing look. Deon stood taller than this particular umbrose and broader as well, but he was still only human, and the umbrose possessed inhuman strength. “You will not be permitted within the Royal Room, but you may dine with the prince’s honor guards in the anteroom, if you so prefer.”

  Deon glanced at Stacia, who gestured that he should follow the umbrose, although she regretted the fact that she would face the prince for the first time with one less human at her side. “I suppose that’s what I’ll do then.” He nodded to Candace, then to Stacia. “Ma’am.”

  The male umbrose summoned a veiled female umbrose to lead Lilith, Stacia, and the other women to the Royal Room. Stacia looked back and saw him leading Deon in a different direction.

  Stomach twisting in trepidation, she linked her arm through Lilith’s so she could whisper in her ear. “Is the prince requesting your presence for breakfast a normal occurrence?”

  Lilith shook her head in a slight movement. “I’ve never been summoned into the prince’s presence before. All my dealings go through Ranove.”

  “Shit,” Stacia said under her breath.

  Lilith nodded. “I second that.”

  Stacia had a more pressing concern. “Why did they send Deon away? He’s supposed to be my protection.”

  Lilith stealth-rolled her eyes at this so that only she and Stacia could see. “The umbrose are very touchy when it comes to honor. To keep Deon at your side would be a direct insult to Balfor, as it would be clear to him that you doubted his honor.”

  Before Stacia could ask anything else—though she figured it was probably too late to get answers to all the questions she had—they arrived at another set of doors. These were wooden and heavily carved with enough symbols that her eyes ached trying to make them out. The strange thing was, the symbols seemed to shift in the dark wood, or perhaps it was the shadows they cast that shifted. A guard outside the door nodded at the female who’d led them here and then opened one of the doors. “The prince has been expecting you.”

  Lilith set her shoulders, took a deep breath, and went in first. The handmaidens held back, looking at Stacia.

  Sari put a hand on Candace’s arm to stop her from following Lilith. She met Stacia’s eyes and waved to the doorway. “You are the guest. You must go first. After you are seated, the handmaidens enter in order of rank.” She tapped Candace’s arm. “You will be last to enter.”

  Candace nodded understanding.

  Stacia clenched her fists, took a quick breath, and stepped into the Royal Room.

  Chapter 7

  Balfor’s first view of Stacia Dornan struck him like an unexpected blow. He’d been about to wave Ranove’s concubine to a seat when Stacia entered. He froze in mid-gesture. Her hair was the golden color of Father’s Eye. It was like having an enemy suddenly appear when he’d expected an ally. Rationally, he knew that human hair came in many shades that had nothing to do with their abilities or allegiance, but the way the blue-green light caught in the pale strands of her hair made it glow. The sight made him angry.

  Perhaps his voice was harsher than it should have been on this first, long-anticipated meeting that now filled him with disappointment. “You may sit,” he snapped out as Stacia attempted a clumsy curtsy. She looked up and met his eyes, and he got his second surprise. The alien center orbs of her eyes were the same blue color as her gown.

  Those eyes narrowed above her veil as she stared at him longer than she should have, certainly longer than any of his people would have dared. She was bold, but then he’d expected as much, given that she’d thrown herself into combat against the adurians. Bold and foolish.

  The two females sat—almost in unison—in carved chairs as far from his throne-like chair at the head of the table as they could get. He gestured to Stacia and then to the chair at his right. “You will sit here.”

  “I’m fine where I am, thank you.” Her tone was cool, her voice lower pitched than most umbrose females, yet it still sounded smooth and feminine. She placed her hands palm-down on the marble tabletop, lifting her chin so that their eyes met across the table. Hers sparkled like jewels in the bioluminescence. Though the veil concealed the rest of her expression, the way she sat ramrod straight with her chest thrust out and her shoulders back told him she had no intention of obeying him.

  He treated the obstinate female to a hard smile, not used to being defied even in simple matters. Grinding his teeth, he pondered the best way to play this. Despite his disappointment in her rather ordinary appearance, other than her hideous hair color and beautiful eyes, he still wanted her close enough to him that he could fill his senses with her, to see if the experience was as he remembered. The voices in his head remained unusually silent, offering no guidance whatsoever. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he was at a loss on how to proceed. “I request that you sit here.” He again indicated the seat on his right.

  Stacia’s glare shifted just long enough to rest on the chair before returning to him. “I understood your request.” On the tabletop, her hands folded together. “I have declined. I prefer this seat.”

  Despite his best efforts, Balfor couldn’t keep his falsely polite smile from twisting into an angry snarl. “While in my city, I expect you to do as I say.”

  She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, regarding him with hard eyes. Lilith moved abruptly. Stacia gasped in pain and turned to Lilith with wide eyes.

  Before he could ponder that further, the handmaidens entered.

  Distracted by greeting the new arrivals, he wasn’t able to interpret the nonverbal communication that went on between Stacia and Lilith. By the time the other females had folded themselves onto their pillows along the sides of the wall, Lilith and Stacia were sitting suspiciously silent as he turned his focus back to them.

  When his gaze fell upon her again, Stacia rose to her feet. “Your Highness, it would be my pleasure to accept your invitation to sit at your side.” Though her tone sounded like she was being forced to eat glass, she moved with innate grace to the chair he’d indicated.

  Pleased that she’d finally decided to behave in an appropriate manner, he took this moment to study her
fully, now that the color of her hair no longer drew his attention. She had a rounder body than most umbrose females, but not as round as her friend Lilith. He decided that he liked the shape of her.

  He’d never before understood Ranove’s attraction to Lilith. The wingless human female was weak, pale, and skittish. Yet now he found Stacia appealing, though she was no less weak or pale. She wasn’t nearly as skittish. It surprised him to find her defiance somewhat entertaining. The idea that had been forming in his mind since he’d agreed to meet with her crystallized. He wanted her as his concubine. Once she belonged to him, he had complete faith that he could adjust her attitude to better suit him.

  Once seated beside him, Stacia slouched back in the chair and crossed her arms over her chest as if to keep everyone out, or perhaps to hold in all the nervous tension that was apparent now that he was this close to her.

  He could smell her personal scent. It was just as he’d remembered, even though two years had passed that should’ve dulled the memory of it. Moonfloss blossoms in full bloom, but not exactly. There was something underlying that scent—a soft feminine musk that had no parallel in his world. That was what had been teasing him, urging him to identify it even when he’d been wounded and incapacitated. It was as alien as she was, from a world even the Mother did not know and could not name. Yet it made him want to press his face against her skin and breathe her in.

  He smiled at her with what he intended to be a magnanimous expression. Her eyes simply narrowed on him again and a small line appeared between her pale brows. The barely restrained tension in her suggested she might explode into some sort of reaction at any moment. Without the shadows guiding him—perhaps still punishing him for his latest loss of will—he had no way of predicting what she would do or say next. She remained a mystery, and that intrigued him.

  He struggled for long-forgotten social graces in an attempt to be diplomatic, wishing he’d taken Ranove’s earlier offer of guidance. “Thank you for sitting here. Now I can speak to you without raising my voice.” His tone had been low enough that the others would have to strain to hear it. His words were meant for Stacia alone.

  She glanced up at him, before quickly dropping her gaze to the side, where she appeared to be intensely focused on the empty chair to her right. “There was no need to rearrange the seating.” Her sexy voice grew husky with some unnamed emotion. “Whatever you have to say to me can be said to Lilith as well. She’s as involved in these negotiations as I am.”

  He didn’t bother to spare a glance for the meek human at the end of the table. Ranove’s woman meant nothing to him but leverage. Telling Stacia that was probably not the diplomacy his advisor had asked him to consider. “Anything I have to say to you is between us, unless I tell you otherwise.” His sharp hearing picked up her low growl even muffled by the veil as it was. He almost chuckled, surprised by his amusement. Such times were so rare and fleeting now.

  When she spoke, it sounded as if her words came through clenched teeth. “If that’s the case, let’s get this over with. I didn’t bring the datapad with the contracts on it, but I’m sure—”

  Her voice cut off on a high note of surprise when she shifted in her chair and bumped into his wing. His flight receptors sent him delicious signals of her touch, the softness of the skin on her arm, the feel of the barely visible hairs there being caught up in the fine sensory hairs on his wing. He noticed that her arm suddenly had a layer of small bumps that he hadn’t seen before. He studied them curiously. When Stacia caught the direction of his gaze, she looked down at her arms. With a soft gasp, she rubbed her hands up and down the bumpy skin as the visible part of her face turned red. The bumps faded from the friction, but her color remained high.

  Wondering at this odd physical reaction, Balfor decided he would leave the question for Ranove to answer at a later time. Given the decision he’d made to claim Stacia as his concubine, he was going to have a lot of questions for Ranove about human females and their bodies. “There’s no need for the contracts. I have no intention of discussing business before breakfast.”

  Her wide eyes met his, before she turned her attention down the table. Her veil fluttered as she exhaled a breath. Clearing her throat, she glanced over at Lilith, seated at the other end. “I guess we should eat now, then.” She said the words as if he’d been waiting for her approval, which he hadn’t been. He’d merely been too distracted watching her, smelling her, and feeling her to send the summons for the servers.

  The hairs on his body strained towards her, practically vibrating from her suppressed energy. He could sense her confusion and wondered whether it was from their conversation, or if she could feel the underlying desire he had for her, and perhaps if she returned it. The urge to touch her, to see if her skin felt as he remembered, did nothing to settle his body’s reaction. Only his honor kept him from following through on that impulse. Feeling the primitive emotion of lust even through his mental veil, his primal struggled against its chains. It suffered no illusions of honor and if it could break free… No, it will never be free again. Certainly never around this female.

  He turned to the room at large to distance himself from the thoughts causing his primal such rebellion. “Let’s eat.”

  Upon his words, servers entered the room bearing overloaded trays filled with every food the restaurant had to offer.

  *****

  Though the feast set before them was far grander and more diverse than anything Stacia had ever eaten, she didn’t pay any attention to the food or the many beverages offered to her and the others.

  It didn’t help her appetite that Balfor confused her on every level. Her first sight of him upon entering the dining room had her body responding with embarrassing eagerness.

  As she’d expected, based on the other umbrose she’d seen, he was big. Even sprawled in his chair, he overwhelmed the spacious dining room. His wings partially spread on either side of him to frame his impressively muscular body. Unlike the other umbrose, he wore a shirt that opened down to mid-chest to reveal large, well-defined pectorals. He also wore pants instead of the ubiquitous loincloth. The animal hide seemed to strain over his leg muscles with each movement. Jeweled silver rings encircled his horns, which swept back from his forehead only to rise to upward-facing points above him. His body was impressive, and his face would have been stunning on a human man. The all-black eyes and mouth filled with sharp teeth did nothing to detract from the effect of it.

  But she’d never been brought low by a handsome face. That wasn’t what made Balfor appeal to her. There was something about him that spoke of tension and vulnerability. Though he looked as far from weak as any living being could be, there was tightness around his eyes and mouth that she’d seen in her own mirror, which spoke of scars that weren’t evident on the surface, maybe even wounds that still bled within him. That reminded her of her very first sight of him, when he’d been nothing but a tortured body suspended in the adurian tower with swords sticking out of him. He’d suffered. They shared that kinship, even if he might never acknowledge it.

  He’d thrown her off-guard the moment she’d entered the room with his demands that she sit beside him. She’d been afraid to do so, not only because he was huge and dangerous, but she also didn’t trust herself in proximity to him. Without Lilith there to guide her and grab her hand or kick her leg when she was saying or doing something stupid, she might’ve inadvertently offended him.

  So, I overtly offended him instead. So much for diplomacy.

  When she’d finally sat down beside him, the spicy musk of him had teased her senses, only fueling the unwelcome desire she felt for him. She tried to remain defensive, holding her body in as tight a space as she could get, but Balfor overflowed the space he should be taking up. When she’d brushed against his wing, it had sent shivers down her arms, followed by a line of goosebumps as the fine hairs stood on end. That minor brush of wing had a completely different effect on her core.

  It had been over two years since she’d ha
d a lover. She told herself that was why he made her feel this way, but she’d seen other male umbrose since she’d arrived and had felt nothing but wariness around them.

  As she glanced over at Lilith, who skillfully maneuvered food into her mouth without removing the veil, she wondered why Balfor had not invited Lilith to take a seat next to him as well. Now, it was just her and the prince at the head of the table, and all of the other females at the end. It put a feeling of intimacy on this meeting that caused a fluttering in her stomach she hadn’t felt since her very first kiss.

  “The food does not please you?” His tone was almost solicitous, but not quite, as if he was trying to act in an unfamiliar role. His accent as he spoke DC Common was flawless, each word pronounced with an orator’s perfection in a voice so deep it seemed to vibrate in her chest, competing with the rapid thumping of her heart.

  Looking down at her plate, she realized she’d been toying with the food there, rather than eating it. Whatever it was had both smelled and looked appetizing once, before she mashed it into a mess on the silver plate. She put down the two-tined fork she’d used to destroy the food. “I’m not that hungry.”

  The sound of clicking drew her attention. Balfor’s obsidian-tipped claws tapped on the table edge in an impatient gesture that was so human it surprised her. “There’s bound to be something here that whets your appetite.” The clicking stopped as he lifted his hand and gestured to the food spread along the entire length of the table.

  It was an impressive variety, and no doubt, if she hadn’t been so nervous, she could have found more than enough that would tempt her. However, his words didn’t make her think of food. She looked up at his face to find him watching her intently, his expression unreadable. The veil concealed most of the flush that burned her cheeks, making her even more grateful for the custom. At least the embarrassing goosebumps had faded. “This food looks and smells amazing. I’m sure it’s all very good. I just don’t eat much in the mornings.”