“I am willing, son of Arevenia.” Si’Yeni’s voice filled them all with loving comfort. “You are family to my Valer.”

  “We all will pay blood price for our cousin,” Asfalea said.

  “An’ me,” Sed said quietly.

  “And me!” Jethain piped up from the couch.

  “Agreed.” The God’s voice rang through Valer Square.

  Chapter Sixteen: Blood Price

  Rak took the sacred dagger and an ornate bowl off the altar. He sliced his hand and let blood pour into the bowl. He allowed more blood than he should have into that bowl. He was as pale as Jisten when he passed the dagger on. The more blood, the more power, and the more complete the healing. Even Ritsa held out her palm, biting her lip for courage. Rak saw her wince in pain, as did each of the willing participants, and it was meant to hurt, for the pain was part of the sacrifice. But it was over quickly, and there wasn’t even a scar left behind as nightflames healed each person.

  The bowl was so full it was in danger of spilling by the time it made it back to the altar. Black flames roared up, consuming the blood, but then the power arched, flowing into Jisten. Rak said, “Now, Dhelion. Heal him now.”

  Her song altered and she passed her staff over Jisten, starting at his head and going down to his feet. The sunset spilled from the hearth to envelop Jisten, ending in night where the power from Zotien’s altar touched Jisten. Zotien’s power swirled around Si’Yeni’s, freely interacting, feeding the sunset glow.

  The wound in the neck knit until not even a scar remained. Even more importantly, the ruin of Jisten’s face was simply undone, as if the chaos bolt had never struck. Rak knelt beside Jisten and peered into his restored face anxiously. Jisten’s eyes opened, unfocused.

  Rak sighed in relief. “Thank you, my Lord. And I thank you also, my Lady.”

  Sunset fingers caressed Rak’s wings briefly. “I am pleased that he did not fail you, favored of Zotien.”

  “How could he? He is perfect for me.”

  Si’Yeni laughed, and everyone heard the joyous laughter of their mother, even if they had never known her. “Your dear Lord and I have a bonding gift for you, dear Loftoni. You will recognize it, in time.”

  Rak’s fingers curled around Jisten’s. “You have already given me the greatest of gifts. This Valer, and the transfer of the kironi magic.” Jisten’s eyes cleared as he watched Si’Yeni and his fingers tightened around Rak’s.

  Rak looked at Zotien. “My Lord, the chaos priest is dead. May I come home now?”

  “The lesser threat is ended, but the greater remains, and the prince’s life hangs in the balance yet.”

  “My priestess’ visions are similar,” Si’Yeni confirmed.

  Rak bowed his head. “I understand, Lord. I accept.” He smiled at Jisten. “You do not need to pack yet.”

  Jisten’s return smile was shy, but Sed and the prince looked dismayed.

  “Yet?” Jethain blurted and then subsided into melancholy silence.

  Jisten slid his gaze at the prince, then back to Rak.

  Rak addressed Jethain firmly. “You heard my God. I will be here for a long time. Probably until you are secure on the throne.”

  “You won’t die alone, Jethain.” Jisten’s voice was hoarse, but steadfast. “I will stand with you when you ascend.”

  “He will not die at all,” replied Rak. “Except, perhaps, from old age.”

  “And what do you mean, she gave you Jisten? He’s mine!” Jethain all but snarled. “And what’s this kironi magic you mentioned? Is it safe? Will it hurt him?”

  “We are bonded. Did we not discuss this just last night?” The tired tone that crept into Rak’s voice only hinted at his true measure of exhaustion.

  “Uhm, that didn’t sound right,” Jethain apologized. “But gifting Jisten to you and transferring magic to him sounds so…so…permanent.”

  Rak stroked Jisten’s bare arm. “It is permanent.”

  Jisten smiled, looked at his arm, then almost convulsed when he noticed his nudity. He clutched the thin cloak covering him in a death grip.

  “So, this magic, what does it mean?” Jethain was nothing if not dogged.

  “It’s sacred,” Jisten said with pride. Elenna and Asfalea assented readily, smiles wide, but Rak muttered something under his breath. “Even if someone doesn’t think so.” Jisten was half teasing, half pleading.

  “Kironi are Loftoni men who bear babies,” said Ritsa, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Very sacred.”

  Jethain made a gagging noise, his blue eyes full of horror. “Kironi? Pregnant? A man? Pregnant? Uuuggghhh.”

  “What I am is a freak.”

  “I’ll say!” Jethain agreed readily. “Jisten, please tell me you impregnated him magically, because that would be absolutely disgusting otherwise.”

  “Prince Jethain!” Jisten snapped, eyes flashing in anger.

  “Jisten adopted the baby. When he did that, Si’Yeni transferred the magic that bound me to the sire over to him. That is the kironi bond.” Rak explained only the barest facts of the matter.

  “Adopted? Someone else made you pregnant? Ugh! Who?”

  Jisten struggled to sit up. “Prince. Jethain. Shut. Up.”

  “Murson overpowered me. It was so fast. Once it was done, the freak kironi magic would not let me hurt him. Or stop him, until Si’Yeni transferred the blood bond to Jisten.”

  “Oh, the chaos mage. Thank the highest heaven, it was magic.” Jethain sounded relieved. “Because a man impregnating another man…ugh, I just can’t imagine how utterly humiliating…Oww!” Jethain scooted back from Jisten, who had slammed his fist into the prince’s knee, the only place he could reach.

  Rak closed his eyes and remembered the pleasure of watching Murson’s head bounce across Jethain’s office. Jisten succeeded in sitting up. Once he had the cloak tucked about him, he gathered Rak into his arms.

  “My poor Valer, bound to a freak.”

  “Shhh.” Jisten laid his head on top of Rak’s. “Gift. Sacred. Permanent.”

  “Sacred freak,” said Jethain helpfully. Jisten’s fist lashed out again, but the prince avoided it easily.

  Asfalea brandished her staff. “Not freak! Sacred kironi! Big mouth! Just like Owain! Bah!”

  “Jisten’s sacred freak.” Rak was not above teasing his lover. “It has a certain ring to it.”

  “S’Rak!” Jisten’s tone was pained.

  Rak stroked Jisten’s whole, unblemished face. “But freak or not, I am yours.”

  “Pregnant sacred freak…Oww!”

  Asfalea’s staff connected soundly to the prince’s head. “Royal oaf out!”

  Sedrael could no longer contain his guffaw. Rak could see that he had tried. “Sire, let’s you ‘n me take a walk.”

  “Royal pregnant sacred freak.” Jethain’s giggle had a hysterical note. Sed yanked the prince out of range of the staff’s arc and hustled him outside. Out in the square, Despina herded Jethain and Sed to her house for a snack, exclaiming all the while how skinny the solid prince and huge sergeant were.

  Asfalea saw Rak’s expression. “Leave sacred kironi alone with Valer! Out! Out!”

  Elenna returned with the spare uniform that Jisten always kept at his mom’s and he almost snatched it out of her hand.

  “I will help you dress.” Rak stood up and offered Jisten a hand.

  Jisten clutched Rak’s cloak around his waist with one hand as he accepted Rak’s help with the other. Rak stroked a long leg once Jisten was upright, and said, “The spare room. Come, Jisten.”

  Jisten fumbled with the cloak some more, making sure his front and backside were both covered. Rak made sure Jisten didn’t see the saucy wink he delivered to Asfalea before he pushed his Valer into the spare room and shut the door.

  “I feel your fires.” Jisten studied Rak. “Why do you burn so badly, so soon? It’s early, and I’m not exactly attractive at the moment. Pale, weak…”

  “The battle…I always burn, after. I can even channel the fires into battle rage. But then I pay for that edge.” Rak stroked Jisten’s bare thigh. “Are you up for this? That was a major healing.”

  “I am always up for satisfying your fires. You never have to go elsewhere.” Jisten yanked Rak to him and kissed him deeply.

  Rak’s wings flared open in surprise, but he melted against his Valer as he yielded to the kiss. Jisten fell backwards on the bed, still holding Rak. Rak kissed Jisten’s neck and upper chest, worry radiating off of him. The position implied Jisten wasn’t really up to the exertion.

  “Just a little glide down,” Jisten grinned up at him. “You know how much I like flying.”

  “Is there space?” asked Rak, with visions of himself hitting the low ceiling.

  “Fine, we’ll just cuddle,” Jisten said loftily. He rolled Rak to his side and rubbed his flaccid cock against Rak’s opening. “Hmm, need a little help.”

  Rak turned over, pushed Jisten onto his back, and slid down. His tongue wrapped around Jisten’s shaft a moment later. He slowly licked and kissed every fingerlength of the Valer’s package. His mate took a lot longer to stiffen than usual.

  When Rak had licked and kissed it all, his lips slid over the head of the cock and down the shaft. He sucked as he massaged the meat with his tongue. Jisten tugged on Rak’s arm when he reached full erection. “S’Rak, please.”

  Rak pulled off his mate’s manhood and licked his way up Jisten’s body. He tongued both nipples, then straddled the man, smoothly pushing himself onto the upright pole.

  Jisten lay back on the bed, much more passive than usual. He brought his knees up, angling his hips to increase his penetration, but otherwise, Rak controlled the rhythm. He worked himself with urgency up and down the massive member until he had taken it all in, and could feel Jisten’s coarse pubic hair grating against his sensitive skin.

  Rak paused to savor being full of Jisten. The stretchy pleasure-pain of penetration had given way to the far sweeter sensation of fullness. Each shift of the shaft impaling him so deeply sent a wave of intense tingly warmth through him.

  The pleasure fed back into Jisten through their bond, and Rak could sense Jisten’s enjoyment flowing into him as well. His internal muscles massaged the Valer’s cock, and he was rewarded with subtle rolls of Jisten’s hips.

  He pumped himself, eyes closed to better concentrate on the feel of Jisten as the thick shaft slid in and out of his body. The more he raised up, the deeper the stroke, and the greater his pleasure. He clenched himself against the pole inside him that caused such marvelous sensations and gasped from the love that swelled in his heart. He did his best to show Jisten his love the way he knew best, through sex. Mere words were nothing compared to that. Words lied, men lied, but the deep sexual submission of his body, his willing submission, could not be mistaken.

  He cried out in ecstasy as Jisten exploded inside him, causing his own orgasm. He felt the heat and rough calluses of Jisten’s hand as it stroked his cock and caught his seed. The hand fell away quickly, and Rak felt bereft and exposed by its absence, and then guilty that he’d demanded too much of his mate. He hung his head and took deep, even breaths. He still burned, and only the cock still impaling him kept the pain of it at bay. He knew it was the residual effects of the chaos he’d handled, feeding into and strengthening the potions.

  He waited until Jisten had softened before he pulled off, grunting as the fires slammed back into him, but it was bearable. He could wait for Jisten to recover. His Valer was sleeping, breathing evenly and deeply, looking far more vulnerable than he did awake, and just as innocent. Rak lay between his legs and set his tongue to his manhood, enjoying the additional contact. Once Jisten’s package was licked clean of every trace of sweat and seed, Rak slipped out of bed and tucked the blankets around Jisten. His fires might be able to wait, but his rumbling belly was demanding to be filled. He dressed quickly and padded out in search of food.

  Chapter Seventeen: Spinach

  Rak slid off Vyld and gave the fanged beast a pat. He padded on silent feet back into the neat cottage. Jisten was sitting on the couch, drinking soup. Rak sat down beside Jisten and studied his Valer. “Are you feeling better?”

  Jisten gave him a sheepish look. “Yes.”

  Rak tucked a strand of hair back behind Jisten’s ear. “I need to braid your hair.” He could feel the waves of embarrassment washing off his Valer. He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow in silent inquiry.

  “I should be able to stay conscious for that.” Jisten grimaced and ducked his head over his soup.

  “I asked too much of you. I knew how badly you were hurt, how much strength was pulled out of you, and you are not even recovered from the other day. Please, forgive me for putting you at risk.”

  “You didn’t ask anything unusual,” Jisten said stubbornly. “Just what you ought. I’m the weak one here.” He tilted the soup bowl up and drained it.

  “You nearly died twice in three days, and you call yourself weak? If you actually die and are brought back, then will you go easy on yourself?”

  “A Valer should be there for his Loftoni. And I didn’t die.”

  “You would have. It required blood sacrifice to raise enough power to save you.”

  “I was lying down!” Jisten blushed and Rak stroked his hands. “Thank you for the blood sacrifice.” Jisten raised Rak’s hands and kissed them.

  “It was my pleasure. Everyone helped.”

  “They did? Good, you shouldn’t be the one to give all the blood.” Without looking up at Rak, Jisten said, “Jethain told me that if I hadn’t come that time, you would have gone to Hasaviz for relief.” He kept his eyes cast downwards. “You didn’t go to Hasaviz, did you?”

  “Ix.” Rak admired the long, black eyelashes. “I was not that desperate. You held on long enough to give me the relief I needed. After that, I went to find food.”

  Jisten let out the breath that he had been holding. “Thank the sunset.”

  Rak stroked his cheek with his free hand. “My Valer.”

  “I am yours.”

  “And I am yours. Aeohnis.”

  Jisten looked up, and Rak kissed him, gently. Jisten cupped Rak’s face and deepened the kiss.

  Rak’s fingers tangled in Jisten’s loose hair. His fingers combed out the tangled strands. He broke off when he felt Jisten’s heart hammering and his Valer’s chest heaving for breath, but not from passion. He pulled a silver and bone comb from his pocket and started to work on the hair. Jisten lay on the couch and put his head in Rak's lap. Rak felt utterly content as he worked Jisten’s hair into a supple, shining mass without a single tangle.

  “Forael wants to hold a special conjoined rite to celebrate the defeat of chaos.”

  Jisten brightened. “Excellent!”

  “Tomorrow night,” specified Rak. “Tonight, we rest.”

  “Time for sunset, eh?” Asfalea appeared at the doorway.

  Rak glanced at the dhelion and asked, “Do you mind if we remain?”

  She took in Jisten with an appraising eye. “No mind.”

  Rak returned to the task at hand, now dividing and subdividing the mass of hair in preparation for the braiding. Jisten’s eyes fluttered closed and his breathing evened out. He was still pale. Rak braided the hair with a deft hand, using only nightstones and silver chains in the weave. Rak’s voice joined the sunset hymn at precisely the correct moment, even though he appeared to not be paying attention. At the sound of Rak’s voice, Jisten stirred and cuddled closer to Rak. His arm slid around Rak’s waist.

  Rak paused between braids to brush his fingers along Jisten’s jaw. Jisten kissed the fingers. Rak continued to chant as he returned to the braiding, refusing to let Jisten distract him into something they would both regret.

  By the time Rak finished Jisten’s braids, Despina arrived at the door and scratched on the lintel. She peeked in, expression anxious. She held a woven basket that emitted heavenly smells that couldn’t be masked by the black and tan patterned cloth on top.

  Rak’s evening hymns had just ended, so perfect was Despina’s sense of timing. He smiled at her. “Rav-i-oh-li?”

  “For you, but for Jisten, something Photas say.” She bustled in and unpacked the basket.

  Jisten stretched and sat up with Rak’s unobtrusive support.

  Despina set the ravioli before Rak, muttering about peasant food, then unpacked a pie plate. The pie was very green, but it smelled of cheese.

  “Mooother,” Jisten eyed it with suspicion. “Why is your pie green?”

  “Photas say spinach. I make. You eat spinach.” She set her hands on her hips.

  “I hate spinach.”

  Rak sniffed. “Smells like that salty goat cheese, and not like spinach at all.”

  “I know! I make nice! You eat!”

  Jisten leaned forward and sniffed. Rak snuck his large bowl of ravioli off the table and onto his lap.

  “You try,” Despina went from commanding to cajoling, worry writ large on her face. She cut a generous slice and set it on a plate. “Lotsa nice goat cheese. Here, I grate more. See?” Despina produced her wedge of precious hard cheese and blanketed the green slice of pie with snowy flakes.

  Jisten looked at Rak for support.

  “You need to eat that,” said Rak. “You need what is in the spinach to help make more blood. It is far superior to the yellow moss that grows on the red rocks.” Someone who had once been fed only what his master felt like giving him was the last person to appeal to on matters of food preferences.

  Jisten laughed in surprise. “When you put it that way!” He dug his fork into the mass of cheese and spinach. His eyes opened in surprise as he chewed.

  Despina smiled smugly.

  Rak smiled and slid a slice of the pie onto his own plate. Despina quickly grated cheese on Rak’s slice.

  “Thank you, matre,” said Rak. He dug in, and nodded in satisfaction with the first bite. “This is an Okyran dish also. With a flaky crust.”

 

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