surprising leaps from cliffs . . ." Her guilty look made his heart pound in a very peculiar rhythm. He finished in a strangled voice, ". . . no testing on the Blood Run
... or any other Run until they feel you're ready."
Andulvar turned away, muttering a string of curses.
"Agreed?" Saetan asked, holding his breath.
Jaenelle nodded, unhappy but resigned.
Like the Gates, the Runs existed in all three Realms. Unlike the Gates, they only existed in the Territory of Askavi. In Terreille, they were the Eyrien warriors' testing grounds, canyons where winds and Winds collided in a dangerous, grueling test of mental and physical strength. The Blood Run held the threads of the lighter Winds, from White to Opal. The other ...
Saetan swallowed hard. "Have you tried the Blood Run?"
Jaenelle's face lit up. "Oh, yes. Saetan, it's such fun." Her enthusiasm wavered as he stared at her.
Remember how to breathe, SaDiablo."And the Khaldharon?"
Jaenelle stared at the floor.
Andulvar spun her around and shook her. "Only a handful of the best Eyrien warriors each year dare try the Khaldharon Run. It's the absolute test of strength and skill, not a playground for girls who want to flit from place to place."
"I don't flit!"
"Witch-child," Saetan warned.
"I only tried it a little," she muttered. "And only in Hell."
Andulvar's jaw dropped.
Saetan closed his eyes, wishing the sudden stabbing pain in his temples would go away. It would have been bad enough if she'd tried the Khaldharon Run in Terreille, the Realm furthest from the Darkness and the full strength of the Winds, but to make the Run in Hell . . . "You will not make the Runs until Andulvar says you're ready!"
Startled by his vehemence, Jaenelle studied him. "I scared you."
Saetan circled the room, looking for something he could safely shred. "You're damn right you scared me."
She fluffed her hair and watched him. When he returned to the desk, she performed a respectful, feminine curtsy. "My apologies, High Lord. My apologies, Prince Yaslana."
Andulvar grunted. "If I'm going to teach you to fly, I might as well teach you how to use the sticks, bow, and knife."
Jaenelle's eyes sparkled. "Sceron is teaching me the crossbow, and Chaosti is showing me how to use a knife," she volunteered.
"All the more reason you should learn Eyrien weapons as well," Andulvar said, smiling grimly.
When she was gone, Saetan looked at Andulvar with concern. "I trust you'll take into account her age and gender."
"I'm going to work her ass off, SaDiablo. If I'm going to train her, and it seems I have no choice, I'll train her as an Eyrien warrior should be trained." He grinned maliciously. "Besides, Prothvar will love being her opponent when she learns the sticks."
Once Andulvar was gone, Saetan settled into his chair behind the blackwood desk, unlocked one of the drawers, and pulled out a sheet of expensive white parchment half filled with his elegant script. He added three names to the growing list: Katrine, Sceron, Chaosti.
With the parchment safely locked away again, Saetan leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples.
That list disturbed him because he didn't know what it meant. Children, yes. Friends, certainly. But all from Kaeleer. She must be gone for hours at a time in order to travel those distances, even on the Black Wind. What did her family think about her disappearances? What did they say? She never talked about Chaillot, her home, her family. She evaded every question he asked, no matter how he phrased it. What was she afraid of?
Saetan stared at nothing for a long time. Then he sent a thought on an Ebon-gray spear thread, male to male. "Teach her well, Andulvar. Teach her well."
5/Hell
Saetan left the small apartment adjoining his private study, vigorously toweling his hair. His nostrils immediately flared and the line between his eyebrows deepened as he stared at the study door.
Harpies had a distinctive psychic scent, and this one, patiently waiting for him to
... or any other Run until they feel you're ready."
Andulvar turned away, muttering a string of curses.
"Agreed?" Saetan asked, holding his breath.
Jaenelle nodded, unhappy but resigned.
Like the Gates, the Runs existed in all three Realms. Unlike the Gates, they only existed in the Territory of Askavi. In Terreille, they were the Eyrien warriors' testing grounds, canyons where winds and Winds collided in a dangerous, grueling test of mental and physical strength. The Blood Run held the threads of the lighter Winds, from White to Opal. The other ...
Saetan swallowed hard. "Have you tried the Blood Run?"
Jaenelle's face lit up. "Oh, yes. Saetan, it's such fun." Her enthusiasm wavered as he stared at her.
Remember how to breathe, SaDiablo."And the Khaldharon?"
Jaenelle stared at the floor.
Andulvar spun her around and shook her. "Only a handful of the best Eyrien warriors each year dare try the Khaldharon Run. It's the absolute test of strength and skill, not a playground for girls who want to flit from place to place."
"I don't flit!"
"Witch-child," Saetan warned.
"I only tried it a little," she muttered. "And only in Hell."
Andulvar's jaw dropped.
Saetan closed his eyes, wishing the sudden stabbing pain in his temples would go away. It would have been bad enough if she'd tried the Khaldharon Run in Terreille, the Realm furthest from the Darkness and the full strength of the Winds, but to make the Run in Hell . . . "You will not make the Runs until Andulvar says you're ready!"
Startled by his vehemence, Jaenelle studied him. "I scared you."
Saetan circled the room, looking for something he could safely shred. "You're damn right you scared me."
She fluffed her hair and watched him. When he returned to the desk, she performed a respectful, feminine curtsy. "My apologies, High Lord. My apologies, Prince Yaslana."
Andulvar grunted. "If I'm going to teach you to fly, I might as well teach you how to use the sticks, bow, and knife."
Jaenelle's eyes sparkled. "Sceron is teaching me the crossbow, and Chaosti is showing me how to use a knife," she volunteered.
"All the more reason you should learn Eyrien weapons as well," Andulvar said, smiling grimly.
When she was gone, Saetan looked at Andulvar with concern. "I trust you'll take into account her age and gender."
"I'm going to work her ass off, SaDiablo. If I'm going to train her, and it seems I have no choice, I'll train her as an Eyrien warrior should be trained." He grinned maliciously. "Besides, Prothvar will love being her opponent when she learns the sticks."
Once Andulvar was gone, Saetan settled into his chair behind the blackwood desk, unlocked one of the drawers, and pulled out a sheet of expensive white parchment half filled with his elegant script. He added three names to the growing list: Katrine, Sceron, Chaosti.
With the parchment safely locked away again, Saetan leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples.
That list disturbed him because he didn't know what it meant. Children, yes. Friends, certainly. But all from Kaeleer. She must be gone for hours at a time in order to travel those distances, even on the Black Wind. What did her family think about her disappearances? What did they say? She never talked about Chaillot, her home, her family. She evaded every question he asked, no matter how he phrased it. What was she afraid of?
Saetan stared at nothing for a long time. Then he sent a thought on an Ebon-gray spear thread, male to male. "Teach her well, Andulvar. Teach her well."
5/Hell
Saetan left the small apartment adjoining his private study, vigorously toweling his hair. His nostrils immediately flared and the line between his eyebrows deepened as he stared at the study door.
Harpies had a distinctive psychic scent, and this one, patiently waiting for him to
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