even if Korl shared that distinction.
She looked at Sh’ra’s pain-ravaged face. While they stood here arguing, worrying about their own selves, her niece could die. She’d have another death on her conscience, another life she could’ve saved if she’d been strong enough. How could she stand here and refuse the very thing that could help this child?
Mahri looked into Korl’s eyes, watched the sweep of those incredibly long lashes when he blinked at the furious resolve in her face. “We have no other choice,” and her own words rang with the finality of a command.
He blinked again. The tips of his lashes were edged with the same pale-gold color of his hair. “Mahri, we have no idea how this would affect the rest of our lives. I won’t take that kind of risk.”
Had he ever spoken her name before? she wondered. The sound of it in that husky, deep timbre made her shiver with pleasure. “No risk, Korl,” she replied, purposely rolling his own name over her tongue.
If anyone had told her that she’d try to convince someone, much less a Royal, to Bond with her, she never would’ve believed it. And that she’d use feminine persuasion, well, she would’ve laughed until it hurt. Nevertheless, she curled her arms around his neck before he had a chance to know her intent, molded her body against his, met the firm softness of his mouth and kissed his breath away.
“You already told me,” she whispered, after running the tip of her tongue along the fullness of his bottom lip, “that I’d never survive the zabba I’ve taken. I’ll die anyway, after we save them, so you needn’t worry about the Bond.”
His arms had somehow managed to wrap themselves around her and they tightened when she spoke. “Not if I can help it,” he muttered. And then louder, “You don’t know very much about a Bond, water-rat.”
Mahri didn’t know what he meant, didn’t care. “You’ll do it?”
“I can’t.”
She sighed. She couldn’t be sure that it would work if she forced him to form a Bond, for it took a mutual intent to meld the Power, but she had to try anyway. “Unless you save this child you’ll never see the Palace Tree again.”
Korl looked at the expression on her face and gently pushed her away. “I can find my way back.”
“You think? It’s possible, although I doubt if you’ll make it back alive.” Mahri’s voice lowered with exasperation. “You can’t even tell the difference between a krizm and a dedo.”
“I’ll get someone to take me back.” Korl stuck his tipped, arrogant nose in the air.
“Right. After you let this little girl die. You’ll be lucky if they don’t throw you to the leaf wolves.” She could tell he didn’t even know what a leaf wolf was and knew he was dying to ask but wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.
During their whispered argument Jaja had crept into the room, his head whipping back and forth between the two of them. When Korl opened his mouth to fling another retort the monk-fish chirped with disgust and leaped onto the bed. He took Sh’ra’s hand, reached for the Royal’s larger one, and clasped them together. His soft brown eyes widened to enormous proportions as he gazed at Korl with sad indignation.
Mahri smiled at her pet. “I think he’s reminding you that you once said ‘I’m a healer first, a prince second.’ And while we argue, Healer , my niece is dying.”
He contemplated the three of them, then sighed in exaggerated defeat. “What do we do?”
“I’m not sure.” Mahri blinked. She felt so taken aback at his sudden agreement that she forgot to wonder why he didn’t seem so terribly angry about being forced against his will.
Caria spoke from the doorway. “Jaja knows.”
How long has she been standing there? wondered Mahri. And why does she think the monk-fish knows anything about Bonding?
“Jaja’s always been more than a mere pet, sister,” answered Caria, as if Mahri had spoken aloud.
Mahri started, watched the
She looked at Sh’ra’s pain-ravaged face. While they stood here arguing, worrying about their own selves, her niece could die. She’d have another death on her conscience, another life she could’ve saved if she’d been strong enough. How could she stand here and refuse the very thing that could help this child?
Mahri looked into Korl’s eyes, watched the sweep of those incredibly long lashes when he blinked at the furious resolve in her face. “We have no other choice,” and her own words rang with the finality of a command.
He blinked again. The tips of his lashes were edged with the same pale-gold color of his hair. “Mahri, we have no idea how this would affect the rest of our lives. I won’t take that kind of risk.”
Had he ever spoken her name before? she wondered. The sound of it in that husky, deep timbre made her shiver with pleasure. “No risk, Korl,” she replied, purposely rolling his own name over her tongue.
If anyone had told her that she’d try to convince someone, much less a Royal, to Bond with her, she never would’ve believed it. And that she’d use feminine persuasion, well, she would’ve laughed until it hurt. Nevertheless, she curled her arms around his neck before he had a chance to know her intent, molded her body against his, met the firm softness of his mouth and kissed his breath away.
“You already told me,” she whispered, after running the tip of her tongue along the fullness of his bottom lip, “that I’d never survive the zabba I’ve taken. I’ll die anyway, after we save them, so you needn’t worry about the Bond.”
His arms had somehow managed to wrap themselves around her and they tightened when she spoke. “Not if I can help it,” he muttered. And then louder, “You don’t know very much about a Bond, water-rat.”
Mahri didn’t know what he meant, didn’t care. “You’ll do it?”
“I can’t.”
She sighed. She couldn’t be sure that it would work if she forced him to form a Bond, for it took a mutual intent to meld the Power, but she had to try anyway. “Unless you save this child you’ll never see the Palace Tree again.”
Korl looked at the expression on her face and gently pushed her away. “I can find my way back.”
“You think? It’s possible, although I doubt if you’ll make it back alive.” Mahri’s voice lowered with exasperation. “You can’t even tell the difference between a krizm and a dedo.”
“I’ll get someone to take me back.” Korl stuck his tipped, arrogant nose in the air.
“Right. After you let this little girl die. You’ll be lucky if they don’t throw you to the leaf wolves.” She could tell he didn’t even know what a leaf wolf was and knew he was dying to ask but wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.
During their whispered argument Jaja had crept into the room, his head whipping back and forth between the two of them. When Korl opened his mouth to fling another retort the monk-fish chirped with disgust and leaped onto the bed. He took Sh’ra’s hand, reached for the Royal’s larger one, and clasped them together. His soft brown eyes widened to enormous proportions as he gazed at Korl with sad indignation.
Mahri smiled at her pet. “I think he’s reminding you that you once said ‘I’m a healer first, a prince second.’ And while we argue, Healer , my niece is dying.”
He contemplated the three of them, then sighed in exaggerated defeat. “What do we do?”
“I’m not sure.” Mahri blinked. She felt so taken aback at his sudden agreement that she forgot to wonder why he didn’t seem so terribly angry about being forced against his will.
Caria spoke from the doorway. “Jaja knows.”
How long has she been standing there? wondered Mahri. And why does she think the monk-fish knows anything about Bonding?
“Jaja’s always been more than a mere pet, sister,” answered Caria, as if Mahri had spoken aloud.
Mahri started, watched the
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