The Temple of Sacrifice Read online

  The cynfar was even more elaborately detailed than she’d envisioned. A diamond glittered in the center of the piece, a perfect stone without a single flaw. Tiny spider-webbed veins of silver crossed the crystal. Upon closer inspection, she saw they were roots, all emanating from the diamond. A laurel wreath enclosed the pendant, its leaves fluttering at her touch. Sulein had infused ancient Artagh ShantiMari into the charm.

  “It’s remarkable. Thank you, Sulein.” She took him in and noticed he’d recently bathed and attempted to comb his matted hair. She fished a gold crown from her pocket and handed it to him, but he waved her off.

  “You’ve paid too much as it is. I can’t accept your gold.”

  Taryn narrowed her eyes at the funny little man. “Then you still have my gratitude.”

  A smile teased the outer edges of his lips. “Don’t need none of that, either. Just be careful with godsteel. It can turn on you if abused.” He shuffled behind the counter, kicking straw with his toes. He’d even clipped his nails.

  “I will.” Her gaze drifted to the display case, and she decided to purchase the little dagger for Tessa. Her mother would most likely kill Taryn if she knew she’d bought the girl a weapon, but it was perfect for her sister. “I’ll take that dagger. Can you wrap it and the pendant, please?”

  Sulein eyed her appreciatively. “You have a good sense for quality metals. This was forged from ore from the deepest mines on Haversham. It will never miss its mark, nor will it allow any harm to its owner.”

  A dagger made with Artagh power. It was perfect for her adventurous sister.

  Sulein left them for several minutes and Taryn used the time to study his other masterpieces. For that’s what his work truly was. Each item, whether a weapon or stylized trifle, was exquisitely crafted. The image of a grierbas caught her attention and she reflexively reached to stroke Kaida, but she’d left her at the palace. Her hand felt strangely empty and a desperate darkness overcame her.

  Sulein returned and she shook the somber feeling from her mind. He handed her two boxes—Rhoane’s small and wrapped in oak leaves, Tessa’s long and rectangular, with cornflower blue silk fastened with pearls. The fabric matched Tessa’s eyes perfectly.

  “Again, thank you.” Taryn reached for him and he leaned closer. Instead of running her fingers along his cheek, she cupped his face in her hand and sent a thread of ShantiMari to him. His eyes widened and his mouth gaped at the violation, but he did not pull away. “If you ever need me, I will come to your aid,” she said in Eleri.

  He nodded mutely, a star-struck look on his face. If all Artagh were like Sulein, she’d have no problem winning them over. She smiled sadly at the thought. War wasn’t something she wanted, but knew was always an option.

  On impulse, she withdrew her sword and laid it on the counter. The starry-eyed look disappeared and he stood straight.

  “Can you read the words on this sword? Do you know who made it?”

  He shook his head and growled low in his throat. “That sword was made for a goddess. Not for the likes of an Aelan.” The old Sulein was back and Taryn sighed. So much for winning over the Artagh.

  “Yes, I know. But I’m in possession of it now and would like to know what it says. Can you at least give me the name of someone who might know?”

  The door opened and Baehlon stuck his head inside. “Those storm clouds don’t look like they’ll wait much longer. We should be going.” With one glance, he took in the entire shop, his dark eyes resting on the Artagh. “Have you concluded your business?”

  Sulein barked several curses at Baehlon and then stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him.

  “What the hell was that about?” Taryn demanded of Baehlon.

  “What was what about?” Baehlon grinned as if he’d stolen a fresh-baked pie and eaten the entire thing before being caught. She suspected the crime was worth the punishment.

  “Never mind.” Taryn stormed past him to the others who waited beneath a low overhang.

  Baehlon hadn’t been wrong and they made it safely to the palace mere minutes before the storm broke. They were shaking out their cloaks when Tessa’s voice tickled Taryn’s mind.

  Dear sister, all is ready. We’re in the petite salon.

  Taryn patted the leather satchel she carried. The same one Rhoane had given her on her first day on Aelinae. It held Tessa’s dagger and Rhoane’s cynfar. Nothing more. She often carried it, even if it was empty.

  We’re on our way.

  Taryn knew Rhoane hated surprises, but hoped the party would be a welcome distraction. They were leaving the next day for the Narthvier and preparations for their secret trip had been strained, to say the least. Taryn still had to tell her mother they were leaving, but had put it off. After the party, she promised herself for the hundredth time.

  She smiled brightly to her friends. “If you’ll follow me, I have something I’d like to show you.”

  Sabina gave her a sly smile, having been in on the planning of Rhoane’s surprise, but the others looked at her with questioning glances.

  The party, as it turned out, was a huge success. Taryn had invited not just their friends, but Rhoane’s valet, Alasdair, as well as several of the soldiers Taryn and Rhoane trained with. Lliandra made an appearance and stayed a short while before saying her goodbyes. She gave the soldiers and servants an imperious glance before sweeping from the room. Even Marissa stopped in for a quarter bell, excusing herself shortly after Lliandra left.

  Taryn didn’t mind. She preferred they stay away, actually. Rhoane surprised everyone by drinking and laughing, thoroughly enjoying himself. It was rare to see him so relaxed and Taryn was grateful she was at least able to give him that for one day. Of her gift to him, he was speechless.

  “I suspected you were up to something with the Artagh,” he said, “but I never thought you would craft a cynfar for me. I am honored, Darennsai.”

  The fact she had surprised him not just with the party, but the pendant, was all the reward she needed.

  At the end of the night, Taryn said her farewells to her friends, lingering over hugs until Faelara and Sabina began to question her dawdling. She slipped the wrapped dagger into Tessa’s hands with a whispered, “Open this when alone in your rooms and don’t let Mother find it. It’s from the Artagh’s shop.” Tessa’s eyes widened and she tucked the parcel into a pocket of her skirt.

  With a wink to Tessa and a last embrace to her friends, Taryn left the salon with a heavy heart. Rhoane insisted they keep their trip north a secret, even from their friends. He feared the Shadow Assassin might stalk them on the road and the only way to ensure their safety was to keep the details of their journey between the two of them.

  Except Taryn had to tell her mother.

  She stood before Lliandra’s doors, taking several deep breaths to calm her fractured nerves. Her mother’s mercurial moods kept Taryn on edge. She never knew if, at any given moment, she would be smacked or soothed. When one of the guards cleared his throat and indicated the door, Taryn shot him a foul look, but grinned all the same. She’d come to like the guards stationed at Lliandra’s doors. They were fierce fighters in the training ring, and treated her as another soldier, not a princess. She respected that.

  “Fine, fine,” she mumbled and knocked with more force than she’d meant.

  The door opened immediately and she was ushered into her mother’s sitting room. Marissa stood by the huge windows that overlooked the ocean, and Myrddin was seated across from Lliandra. His reddened face had the look of someone who lingered too long in the sun. When she entered, he stood and smiled as wide as his sunburn would allow.

  “Taryn. It’s good to see you again.” Within two steps, he was grasping her arms and kissing her cheeks.

  “I’m glad you’ve returned. I missed you.” The admission surprised her, but it was true. Although he kept mostly to himself, only becoming animated after several pints of ale, she’d missed his quiet counsel.

  “I heard what happened. Ar
e you recovered?” His denim colored eyes searched her face, scanned her body. “Dreadful, it was to hear. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to assist you. I promise that won’t ever happen again.”

  The concern that shone from his features touched her. “It was Sabina who was injured, not me. We’re both fine now. Thank you for asking.”

  He patted her hand in a grandfatherly sort of way. “I’ll be sure to speak with Sabina tomorrow. Was the party pleasant?”

  The four of them made small talk for the next several minutes before Myrddin begged off, citing exhaustion from his travels. Marissa followed Myrddin from the room, leaving Taryn alone with her mother.

  “I take it this isn’t a social call,” Lliandra said the moment her servants left the room.

  Taryn raised her chin and took a deep breath. She’d as soon face the phantom again than tell her mother what she was about to say. But it had to be done.

  Chapter Seven

  The carriage pulled away from the back door of the house and Marissa watched until it rounded a corner out of sight. She knocked twice, followed by a third a moment later. A small window opened and the face of Nena’s doorman appeared. He took in Marissa without a word and opened the door enough for her to squeeze through. It enraged her she had to play this silly game, but Nena’s rules were absolute. Crown princess or no, she had to follow them.

  A young boy dressed in short breeches and nothing else led her up the back stairs to Armando’s room. He rapped on the door before sauntering away, leaving Marissa alone in the darkened hall. An agonizing moment passed and then Armando opened the door, inviting her in. She stifled the gasp that always came when she saw his immaculate body.

  Burnished coppery skin with dark, almost black hair covered his well-muscled chest, becoming a tantalizing trail over rippled abs and disappearing beneath the thin pants he wore. The fabric left little to the imagination and Marissa thrilled at the sight of his excitement.

  She pulled her gaze to his eyes, the only thing about him that wasn’t exceptional. Dull brown without a trace of ShantiMari sparking in their depths. She swept past him into the handsomely decorated room. Although masculine, she never felt out of place there. In fact, his room was one of the few places she was truly comfortable.

  Perhaps it was the rich fabric on the walls, burgundy in shade, which complemented the dark-stained furniture. Or the way candles flickered within crystal sconces, casting shadows across the huge bed. Marissa grinned and settled her glance on two ornately carved black screens. Hidden from view were the whips and toys she craved.

  Armando reached out to unbutton her gown and her skin reacted to his touch, igniting little flames to dance over her bare shoulders. The whore needed no ShantiMari. His power was in the way he used his body.

  His breath tickled the hairs on her flesh as he worked the buttons of her gown, his fingers skimming her hips as he slid it off her body. She stepped out of her dress and stilled her desire, waiting anxiously for him to hang the blasted thing and return to her. Within moments, his hot lips were on the back of her neck, warming her. He licked a figure eight, enflaming her desire even more, and then his tongue left her skin. She whimpered at the loss, only to moan a moment later when he blew cool air against her. The hot and cold sensation went straight to her core. Her nipples strained to be touched. Her sex moistened in anticipation. Armando knew what she needed.

  “What will it be tonight, my dove? The lash? Or that wicked little toy you acquired from Ulla?”

  “None of those.” His eyes sparkled with mischief. “Tonight, I show you what it is to be loved.”

  Marissa quirked a brow. “I don’t pay you to make love to me. I pay for the special kind of pleasure only you know how to inflict.”

  “If you aren’t satisfied, you don’t have to pay. Now shhh, and let me love you, Princess.”

  His mouth commanded hers, taking in her lips and tongue with a promise of future savagery that quelled her argument for the moment. If he didn’t satisfy her, she’d do more than not pay. She’d have his balls for supper.

  His hands roamed over her body, massaging her breasts in time to the movements of his mouth. Soon she rocked with him, swept up in the simplicity of his actions. He caught her beneath her knees and cradled her in his arms, nestled against his chest. She’d bedded him dozens of times, sharing every orifice of her body and his, but the way he held her, protectively, lovingly, was more intimate than anything they’d done together. His heart beat against his chest in a rapid staccato, giving away his apprehension.

  The fact he was nervous didn’t anger her—quite the opposite.

  She gazed at him as he gently set her on the feather bed. His unremarkable brown eyes took in her body, a look of hunger dancing in their depths. A blush crept across her cheeks, and she looked away. The sudden shyness surprised her.

  A lone finger trailed its way from her lips, down her chin to her breasts, where it made lazy circles around her nipples and then continued over her abdomen. She tensed as his finger rounded on her most sensitive parts, but instead of stopping to tease her, he ran both of his hands down her legs, gripping her ankles and spreading her legs apart.

  A tortured moan escaped her lips as she lay naked and vulnerable on the bed. His responding smile gave little comfort. In fact, it stoked the fire of need nestled between her legs.

  With practiced seduction, he untied his breeches and let them slip to the ground. His erection sprang forward, released from the thin fabric at last. Marissa’s sharp intake of air brought another smile to his lips, full of wicked promises.

  Armando positioned himself between her legs, massaging her thighs, his thumbs almost coming in contact with her before moving away far too quickly. Each time his fingers neared, she would thrust up to force contact, but he was too quick.

  The smell of her desire filled the room, mixed with Armando’s exotic scent of musky spiciness. His cock bounced inches from her, teasing her with its perfection.

  “Please,” she said, “please make love to me, Armando.”

  His hands roved over her thighs to her hips, then up to her breasts. He bent low, taking one nipple into his mouth, burning her with his heat, making her ache for his touch. His tongue traced circles around her areola before moving to her other breast. She squirmed beneath him, eager for the touch, but yearning for his cock, kept just out of reach. She had no doubt Armando knew exactly what he was doing to her.

  He rose up, his gaze locked on hers, the intensity thrilling in an unsettling way. A whimper escaped her lips and he slid into her with calculated slowness. She clenched around his girth, fighting the powerful urge of release. The fact Armando had barely entered her and she almost came undone frightened her. No man had ever had that kind of power over her body.

  He rocked in and out of her, almost fully pulling out before pressing in to the hilt. He was too big for her like this. She couldn’t possibly take all of him, and yet her body stretched to accommodate him. His hands rested at the sides of her face, his thumbs stroking her cheeks, his eyes boring into hers.

  It was too much. Too close, too intimate. Of all the lovers she’d had, Armando knew her darkest secrets, but this intimacy was a boundary she never wanted to cross. Yet she didn’t look away.

  Her hands snaked up his back and over the hardened muscles contracting with his movements. Slow, ever so slowly, he thrust in and out of her. Her hips acted of their own accord, tilting to match his movements. A dizzying sensation started at the corners of her mind, spreading over her body. Unfamiliar sensations, a light-headedness she didn’t recognize, followed by a comforting warmth that made her giddy.

  Armando’s breathing became labored. Beads of sweat dotted his brow as he controlled his movements. With each downward stroke, his chest skimmed her nipples, teasing them to tight little buds. Every part of her body pulled in on itself, taut like the string of a bow. She gasped at the feeling, unsure what to do.

  He shifted his position, tilting his cock upward to stroke that sensitive
part of her and she lost all thought as stars burst in her mind. Stars and fire and ice and a weightlessness that couldn’t be defined. She trembled from hairline to toes and grasped him with her hands. Her stuttered cries echoed in the room, joined by his grunts of completion.

  This is love. Pure. Simple. Love.

  A strange prickling of her heart filled her with peace. This is what it must feel like for others. She’d always wondered, and truth be told, was a bit jealous of people like Taryn and Rhoane. People who could find pleasure in someone’s company simply because they shared a bond of love. She held Armando tighter, silently thanking him for showing her what it meant to be loved.

  When at last their bodies stopped convulsing and he softened within her, Armando pressed his lips to hers. “Well, Princess?”

  “Well what?”

  “Did I earn my pay?”

  She pushed him off her and scrambled from the bed, furious with him, and herself. How could she be so stupid to think a whore would love her?

  “You think that was special?” She tossed her hair with a haughty sniff. “It was boring. You were boring. Next time, I expect my wishes to be fulfilled, not what you want. Do you hear me?” She retrieved her gown and slid it over her still tingling skin.

  “No,” Armando said when she stood in front of his mirror, arranging her mussed curls.

  “No?”

  “I will not beat you, Princess. You can find someone else for your needs.”

  He reclined against the headboard, too beautiful by half with his dark hair covering part of his face, his long legs stretched before him. And his cock. That magnificent piece of art that brought her to the edge of delirium rested against his thigh, half erect, taunting her.

  He had to be joking.

  “I’m serious,” he said as if reading her mind. “No more. I don’t enjoy whipping you. Nena has others who will be only too happy to take up the task.”

  Marissa tossed a silver feather onto the bed. It landed with a dull thud beside his hip. The amount was a fraction of what he was worth and from the dangerous dip of his lips, he saw the insult for what it was. He’d made a powerful enemy that night.