Heart of the Exiled Read Free

coupled as she made Yaras yield to her his memories of his own child’s conception. She thought her flesh had come close to opening to Yaras then, close to conceiving the child she wanted. It had brought her a better understanding of the mystery. She hoped to use the knowledge to her advantage, though so far she had not succeeded.
    Time, then, to remind herself. Yaras would yield to her again, in flesh and in mind.
    As if he sensed her thought, he looked up at her suddenly. She saw the muscles of his throat move in a swallow.
    “Bright Lady, I have a boon to ask.”
    “Oh?”
    “I saw Islir in Nightsand while we were gathering the army.”
    “Oh?”
    Shalár felt a twinge of anger but hid it. Islir was the mother of Yaras’s daughter. She had declined to hunt again, preferring to stay at home on her own farm, where she grew flax and cordweed and watched over their daughter.
    “We have decided to handfast.”
    Shalár frowned. “That is an ælven custom. We have left all such behind us.”
    Yaras’s lips tightened briefly. Though his expression remained neutral, she could see a hint of dismay in his eyes.
    “Some customs have merit.”
    “That one puts us at a disadvantage, however. A variety of partners improves the chance of conception.”
    “But partners who have conceived once may likely do so again.” She sensed the anxiety in his khi flare more strongly.
    “Perhaps.”
    Yaras looked at her, his eyes pleading as he whispered. “Bright Lady, I would ask your blessing.”
    “My blessing for a practice I do not condone?”
    He was silent, his brow creased. Shalár resumed her slow pacing, circling Yaras now instead of the kobalen. He stood still, not meeting her gaze as she looked over the clean, strong lines of his flesh, remembering their feel, their taste. His hair was as white as her own, as white as any of her people’s. His eyes stared at nothing, and the color in his cheeks grew brighter.
    A small shifting sound diverted Shalár’s attention to the kobalen. Only a tiny movement of its feet, but itshould not have been capable of that. Yaras had let his guard drop.
    Shalár sent a stab of khi toward the creature, seizing control of it herself. It let out a sharp whimper and its eyes grew wide, but it did not move again. She turned to Yaras, holding back her annoyance.
    “You cannot handfast. You have no ribbons.”
    Handfasting ribbons were made with magecraft, woven especially for the couple, with blessings and symbols of personal meaning. Magecraft, however, was one of the many talents lost to Clan Darkshore. No mages had survived their flight from Fireshore, nor had any with talent been born to the clan since.
    Yaras’s eyes closed briefly. “We will do without. A pledge is a pledge.”
    Shalár was displeased but forbore to express her annoyance. The hunger was partly to blame for her mood. She stepped up to the kobalen, drawing the hunting knife she wore at her hip, and made a neat slice on either side of its neck. The hot tang of blood, rich with khi, filled her nostrils.
    “You are not pledged yet.” She wiped her knife and restored it to its sheath. “Feed with me.”
    Yaras hesitated. Her patience at an end, Shalár wrapped a warning pulse of khi around him, a shadowed demonstration of her strength. At the same time she drew a little of his khi to herself. His cheeks paled, and he moved toward the kobalen without further resistance. Having one’s khi fed upon was not a pleasant sensation.
    Shalár hid a small smile as she set her mouth to the creature’s throat. The hot sting of khi on her tongue made her forget all else.
    She had not realized how tightly her stomach was clenched until it relaxed as the flood of warmthentered it. She drank deeply, conscious at first only of the heady richness of khi flowing through her, restoring her full strength, making her feel alive. It tingled through her flesh, to her fingertips and every part of her.
    She became aware of Yaras, very close,