Sacred King: Prologue

Magical energies prickled at the edges of Margren's awareness, slowly and insistently drawing her attention from the grip of her dream. She rolled over, pushing herself up on her elbows to gaze expectantly at the head of her bed. When the bed had been placed there, there had been nothing but a solid wall at the head. Margren's lover had changed that. He was the most powerful mage in the Sharani Empire, though no one even knew he was in the realm. The curtains parted as two slender long fingered hands slipped through, pushing them further and further apart, revealing the hidden enchantary gate connecting Margren's bedroom to an arcane fortress concealed beneath the ground on a distant bluff crowned by ancient ruins.

"Mephistis?" Margren sat up, crossed her legs, and made more room for the almost gaunt, young man to emerge at her side. She opened her arms, reaching to draw him into them as she did on their frequent trysting only to draw back again at the grim expression in his eyes.

"Ladonys has sent for your sister," Mephistis whispered softly into her ear.

Margren's large, doe-like eyes widened, "No! She mustn't come back! She mustn't. I'd… I'd shrivel up and die if she came back…"

"She's sent the one person your sister can't refuse: Brendorn," his voice was soft with a very slight lilt, so unlike the Sharani, Margren's race, seductive even in its seriousness.

Margren sucked in a deep breath, steadying herself, her eyes going suddenly hard as black ice. "Then our agent will have to get there first."

"I've also sent people to stop Brendorn from reaching her."

"Good. What can a silly flower tender do," she snarled, anger edging her voice now. "Even if he is her lovemate… a gardener."

"Don't underestimate him, my love. He may not know how to fight, but he is sylvan. His woodscraft is great."

Margren turned away from Mephistis, folding her arms across her stomach. "First you tell me not to worry, now you tell me to worry."

"Not at all. Just to be very careful." Mephistis wrapped his comforting arms around her, his black goatee tickling her neck ashe pressed his face into the back of her cheek. "Besides, the Blade of Nine Souls is nearly done. Not even a paladin of Aroana can fight that."

"Ha'taren," Margren said, supplying the Sharani word for the paladins of the God Aroana. "She got everything I ever wanted handed to her on a platter as if she'd earned it. But she's not ha'taren any longer. She's wallowing in the filthy gutters of Vorgensburg with the rest of the pigs she attracts. Now her filthy lifemates, Ladonys and Brendorn, think they're going to bring her back here to tear up my life… rip all my plans and dreams to pieces all over again… For all I know they're bringing her back to rip my heart out despite all the oaths and promises she made not to. Oaths don't mean much to one who abandoned her faith, her god and her family — her small child."

"I won't let her touch you. If she comes, she dies. If she doesn't come, she dies. You are very, very safe, My Love." He felt her trembling with rage as his hands slipped beneath her robe to cup her breasts.

She paused in her rant as if startled, then relaxed against him. "Yes, I am. And no one is ever going to hurt me again."

Mephistis turned her in his arms, kissing her forehead and working his way down to the cleft between her breasts, murmuring between kisses, "Soon there will not be anyone left who can hurt you. Just as I promised."

A strangled sob forced its way past a sudden catch in Margren's throat, "You're the only one who's ever kept their promises tome… the only one."

"There will be others — others who recognize your worth." Mephistis gently pressed Margren backward onto the bed. "Together…we will bring this land to heel… punish those who have caused you so much pain… so much sorrow and loneliness."

As his body began to move in rhythm atop hers, Margren released herself to pleasure and ceased to think about her sister for the first time in days.

GODWAR CENTRAL

Sacred King: Prologue