Spring – 842 AQE


    Hanamei sat in the blackness, dressed in little more than a light, silken gown that left her delicate shoulders and long, elegant neck exposed. Hair fell down her back, straight and every bit as black as the room where she was seated. The young woman’s face was painted white, with brilliant red lipstick and bold, golden markings swirled over her smoothly etched features. The slightest bit of red streaked her half-closed eyelids.


    A flash of lightning from the rain-streaked window masked a candle being lit across the room from her. It cast her surroundings in a dim, soft light and gleamed against her sleek train of unbound hair. She glanced up at the man who had lit the candle, and the faintest trace of fear shivered across her otherwise expressionless face.


    Warlord Tzulan was an older man, tall and powerful. His short-cut hair was more brown than hers and streaked with a fair amount of gray, but it was still dark and straight. Right now, he was only wearing a pair of silk pants, fastened at the top with a wide, gold sash. The smile on his broad, wide-jawed face brought another fleeting glimmer of fear to her eyes.


    “Hanamei...” He breathed her name as he approached slowly, his fingers working free the sash as his expression turned hungry. “The daughter of my archrival, waiting in my bed.” His grin grew more sinister as he stopped and stared down at her with baleful eyes.


    She tried to maintain her blank expression, but the fear made her bottom lip quiver. She knew if she wasn’t careful, she would succumb to the mix of emotions whirling unpleasantly in her belly. Here stood the enemy of her people, the man who had waged war on her homeland for the last decade. Long had he wanted to possess her father’s territory, and long had the primitive tribes defended it...


    Until now. When her father had looked upon his wounded people and war-torn land and lost heart. Some called it senility. Others cowardice. But the truth was their great leader, who had stood with them in every battle, finally saw the futility of their plight and realized his only course of action was surrender. He made a pact with the Warlord, swearing fealty, and in exchange was allowed to keep a figurehead position over the tribes who had rallied to him. But there was one more thing the proud man had to relinquish... his only surviving child.


    Hanamei felt the tears prick her eyes as Tzulan’s fingers touched her chin, tilting her face upward. She willed herself not to cry, not to let him see any of her weakness, but what she saw in his eyes made her very heart quiver.


    Her people allowed her to suffer so their suffering could end. And she knew, with a single glance, that Tzulan intended to make her pay dearly tonight for all the trouble the Taiku tribes had caused him over the last ten years.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    His fingers traced along her jawline, moving slowly until they were tangled in her black hair. She could feel his hot breath against her cheek as he leaned in close, and all at once, the fear was replaced by anger.


    How dare they! She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to keep herself from trembling as his lips brushed her soft skin. They sent me here; they abandoned me... Father sent me to the monster’s lair! My sacrifice was expected... I wasn’t given a choice...


    Hanamei pulled away without thinking of the consequences, turning her face from him in defiance and disgust. She didn’t have a chance to fully realize her mistake or consider begging forgiveness before he made her pay the price for such insolence.


    A rough yank on her hair caused her to let out a cry of despair. This outburst was met with a slap that nearly sent her off the bed and onto the floor. Had it not been for his grip, she undoubtedly would have collapsed.


    “I will teach you obedience, savage...” His words scorched like fire, threatening, warning, promising.


    Hanamei was certain it would be easier to give in, to surrender just as her father had, but the anger coursing in her veins gave her courage. “And I will teach you humiliation...” she whispered, her voice quiet and smoother than the fine silk she wore.


    Before he could react, she reached up and pressed her palm against his face, summoning a power she had spent her whole life burying deep down. She had been born with a curse nobody in her tribe had understood. Not the medicine woman or her father. Perhaps that was why he had sent her to suffer this fate, because she was considered tainted? Had they figured it was better to let her pay their price than allow such a bad omen to exist among them?


    Now was not the time to contemplate such thoughts. Hanamei felt the sweet, tantalizing energy flood her body, warming her skin and causing her eyes to turn a solid, fathomless black. That same power flowed out of her hand, caressing the Warlord’s handsome cheek for the briefest of moments and then searing his flesh in the next instant.


    He cried out in agony as the spell spiraled across his skin, scorching a strange but elegant pattern across the side of his face and down his neck, shoulder, and even licking his chest. Despite the intense pain he must have felt, he managed to clobber her in the face with his fist, knocking her off the bed this time and onto the floor. He staggered back, still gasping and groaning.


    “Heathen bitch!” he bellowed in anguish.


    Hanamei gathered herself up, coming shakily to her feet. Blood almost as red as her painted lips trickled down her chin. Fear reached out to grab her again, but now the power she’d carefully concealed kept her anger and courage fueled as well.


    “Burn, you bastard!” she shouted back and then raised her hands to hurl a blast of raw energy straight at him.


    Much to her dismay, he leapt out of the way, and the blow that would have surely obliterated him missed the mark. It did slammed into the wall and tore it to pieces. Splinters and smoke filled the air. There was no way Tzulan’s guards hadn’t heard that, which left Hanamei in a frustrating position. She wanted to stay and fight the Warlord to the death. She didn’t understand this desire, but it was there, and it very nearly overrode her good sense to run while she had the chance!


    Letting the sweet power slip away, she dove into the billowing smoke toward freedom. Tzulan’s enraged screams harried her escape like a pack of wolves.