ROBIN D. OWENS
PROTECTOR OF THE FLIGHT

www.LUNA-Books.com

To My Critique Group,

a better bunch of writers I’ve never met.

Don’t think you’ll ever get rid of me,

because I can’t do this without you.

“Love is eternal—the aspect may change, but not the essence. There is the same difference in a person before and after he is in love as there is in an unlighted lamp and one that is burning. The lamp was there and was a good lamp, but now it is shedding light too, and that is its real function.”

—Vincent Van Gogh

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Coming Next Month

1

Colorado Mountains

Summer, Morning

Since her fall in the National Finals Rodeo, pain had been a daily enemy. Calli Torcher hesitated at the top of the steep stairs from her attic bedroom to the first floor, took a breath, braced a hand against the wall and gritted her teeth at the prospect of pain. No matter how carefully she set her feet, she’d jar herself, then stop and pant through the agony. Or she might fall and end up in the hospital. Again.

Recovering from a broken pelvis took time. The bad dreams that peppered her sleep didn’t help matters. She’d dreamt of people lost in a winter blizzard. Cries for help. Short notes of doom from a clock gong or the ranch’s iron triangle or a siren…

She shook her head to clear her mind and concentrate on navigating the stairs. It happened the third stair from the top, just a tiny misstep and she was leaning against the wall, trying to shut out waves of agony. When she recovered, she went on and made it to the ground floor with no other problems.

As she rested against the wall at the bottom landing, she wondered if she should ask her dad if she could use the downstairs storeroom as a bedroom until she fully healed. But things hadn’t been right between her and her father for months, ever since she’d fallen and lost the barrel-racing championship, ending her career at twenty-five.

That was the past. She could—and would—still train horses, take a more active role in the ranch now that she wasn’t on the road all the time, traveling the rodeo circuit.

Her nose twitched at the smell of strong coffee and frying bacon. Dad was up and fixing his own breakfast. Since he’d started without her, she decided she’d get some air, clear the images and sounds of the dream—the string of bad dreams—from her head and replace them with the beauty of the Rocking Bar T Ranch in their mountain valley.

Calli limped to the corral, breathing deeply, feeling the tingle of the breeze on her face, the softness of worn flannel and denim from her shirt and jeans on her skin. The ball of the sun shot yellow streaks of light into the sky.

She reached the corral fence and leaned against it, breathing fast, still weak from her last surgery. Still, if she continued to work hard, in another few months she’d be able to start training horses.

No whicker of greeting came from her gelding. Calli whistled. Nothing. He always greeted her. A twinge of alarm ruptured her calm. “Spark! Spark, here!” She called as if her horse was a young, heedless colt.

Her dad strode up, a lean tough man with a weathered face and hard lines carved from the rigors of cattle ranching. He leaned on the fence to her right. “The gelding ain’t here.”

She looked at him from the corner of her eye. Bristly gray whiskers sprouted from his jaw. He could speak well if he wanted, if he respected the person he was talking to.

She wet her lips. “What do you mean, Spark isn’t here?”

His hat shadowed the eyes as blue as her own, but he squinted down at her all the same. Hard as the distant mountains. “He’s a highly trained rodeo horse, worth a lotta money. Couldn’t expect me to keep him ’round when you can’t ride him anymore and a profit can be made. Your last doctor’s appointment made me realize that.”

Calli pivoted so quickly it wrenched her hip. She ignored the pain in her body, so much less than the anguish in her heart. She spoke through the shock. “Spark is my horse. I gave you the money for him.”

Her dad shrugged. “I bought the gelding from the racetrack. The horse was registered in my name. I’m the owner of Rocking Bar T and everything on it.”

“Except for Spark. I paid for him,” Calli said through clenched teeth.

His stance was still casual. “Huh. My name is on the papers. And who paid for that horse’s keep when it was young? I did.”

Money wasn’t the issue. Love was. Giving and receiving love was everything. She’d needed something to love and return that love in her life. “How could you do this? I love him.”

He faced her now, as impassive as always, as if nothing touched him, not even a hint of irritation in his eyes. He looked her up and down as if judging a heifer, not as if he saw his daughter. “You should know better than that. Stupid to love an animal. Stupid to love at all. Love ain’t nothin’ that gets a return. A profit could be made, and Spark wasn’t no use to me. I sold him to Bill Morsey.”

Usefulness had always been Dad’s bottom line.

Her insides clenched, the pressure of hard tears backed behind her eyes. She couldn’t stop the question. “What about me? What about my usefulness?”

He grunted. “You can do your chores and stay. Do the cookin’ and cleanin.’ But I went to the bank. Since the ranch is paid for, I set up a reverse mortgage. The money’ll last long as I do, then you’ll have to find another place.”

Shock and nausea rolled through her. “I’d planned on training horses.”

“This is a cattle ranch.”

“We could build up a fine reputation—”

“No. We run cattle.”

She went to the bottom line. “You aren’t leaving the ranch to me?” Ever since she’d gone on the circuit, she’d always thought of the ranch as her future. Working hard, she’d sent money back for expenses. She’d thought she and her dad were partners.

His gaze fastened on her middle as if he could see her abdominal scars. “No reason to. Ain’t as if you can gimme a grandson, even.” Without another word he sauntered back to the house, leaving Calli’s world broken.

A noise tore from her, some animalistic cry of pain. Blindly she gripped the top fence rail, splinters lanced her hand.

All her life she’d shut out the knowledge of what her father was. Instead, she’d woven illusions that he cared about her. False, lying illusions that had been so comforting and that she’d held so long that she couldn’t see reality.

Her mother had abandoned them, then died. If her father had loved Calli before, he’d shut off his emotions afterward. As long as she proved useful, she was tolerated.

He might have enjoyed the reflected glory of her rodeo wins and liked the big bucks of the prizes. He’d taken care of her in the hospital and later when she was healing. But now that it was obvious she wouldn’t return to the rodeo she was nothing more than a woman to cook and clean.

She glanced around but refused to see past the surface beauty of the day. This place wasn’t her home anymore. She couldn’t afford the wrenching sense of loss.

Blood pounded in her ears and with it came the sounds of chimes and singing. Tinnitus, ringing in the ears, the doctors had said, and that it should go away soon. The illusory sounds might pass, but the very real loss of the ranch would always shadow her. More bad dreams.

Her white-knuckled hand on the wooden rail hurt from splinters, rough wood impressed hard on her palm, the ache of her stretched tendons. She let go.

She had to escape, allow emotions to surge through her—her grief for the loss of Spark, the destruction of her dreams. She’d plan later. This heartache she’d brought on herself for not letting herself see what the man who fathered her was—hard and bitter, guarding his heart from everyone, including her.

She limped, stumbled, caught herself, limped a few more steps—and found that she did so in rhythm to the reverberating rise and fall of melodic voices. Her foot brushed a fallen branch and she picked it up and used it as a walking staff.

By the time her eyes cleared from tears, she’d passed the edge of the ranch yard and was on her way to the sandstone rocks and the wide ledge on a hill that had always been her refuge. She needed air to breathe.

When she reached the ledge, her pelvis ached all the way up to her teeth. She hobbled past the huge sheered-off crystal face of the hill to solid rock and gingerly lowered herself to sit. She leaned against the hillside, her legs straight, and set the stick beside her. Then she wiped the sweat from her face, wrinkling her nose at the brown and red dirt smears on her bandana.

Her breath came fast with exertion. Her teeth hurt from gritting them when she’d negotiated her way up the rocky path. Up here, the wind blew and she heard a tinkle of chimes rushing around her.

She closed her eyes and whirls of bright colors streaked inside of her eyelids. The spots would fade as she rested.

Her heartbeat decreased to normal. Too much emotion and exertion in such a short amount of time had drained her.

Time seemed to slow until one moment was everything. The scent of rock and pine, the faint tumble of a distant stream, the cool wind, all etched on her memory.

She opened her lashes and looked out over the ranch, the kitchen gardens, the sprawling house, the land that stretched to the mountains, higher than this backyard hill. So beautiful. The stream was full—no drought this year.

For a while, Calli just sat and enjoyed the calm of her emotions. Too many problems had pressed down on her lately, flattening her spirits. For this one moment she could be quiet and enjoy life, let thoughts drift through her mind without jabbing at her heart.

Did she love the ranch?

No. It had always reflected what her dad wanted, not the kind of ranch she wanted, a horse ranch.

But she loved the land. And she loved the potential of a horse ranch. She wanted the land, wanted to shape that potential.

The rock was cold and hard against her back as her head throbbed with equally hard thoughts. She’d been a fool.

Well, that was the past. Maybe only the recent past, but time to wake up and fix her mistakes.

Spark was gone. Her heart twinged, jerking her body. She could barely stand that thought. Bill Morsey was a good horseman, and his daughter would be thrilled to have Spark. Calli’s lips turned down. Her father had probably done the best thing for Spark. The horse loved to run, delighted in an audience. Calli gulped and blew her nose on the corner of her bandana.

Now that she knew she’d have to fight Dad for her vision of the ranch, or walk away, she must make some decisions.

Should she fight for the land or get a check for her share and leave? She had a chance of winning—never Dad’s respect or love, she finally realized that, but she might be able to prove her contribution to the ranch, her vision was more profitable than his. In any event, she’d go to the bank and straighten them out about the equity she had in this place. She had records. There would be deposits, bills paid, after she’d sent money back, and everyone in town knew of her triumphs.

Fighting would take a lot of energy—physical and emotional, and that was a rare commodity for her during her recovery. And it would be bitter, turn her father against her forever.

But she loved the land and he already had no affection for her. How much did he love the ranch, the land? Would he hate her for fighting?

She didn’t think so. She loved. He didn’t.

He could take his share of the ranch money and walk away. It would be tough on her own at first, but she was confident she could make a name for the ranch, for herself, by horse training. She’d be well in a few months. Or after one more surgery.

Calli glanced at the smooth plane of crystal that was the face of the hillside beside her. Milky white with tints of green, the sheer face of the glassy rock stood taller and wider than herself. A small rim framed it, protecting it from the weather.

She hadn’t been able to look at the faint image of herself in the crystal for a long time.

A while back, she’d done a little research and discovered it was a fine piece of microcline. Devil’s Hole wasn’t too far away, and it had had even bigger crystals.

When she’d first found the path and the crystal when she was six years old, she’d been a little afraid of it. The green had tinged into dark shadows inside that reminded her of the tiny, dark bedroom her mom had locked her in when she’d left the ranch as evening fell—walked away from the land and her husband and her daughter forever. A memory Calli suppressed as much as possible.

Years later, sunlight had danced on the face of the crystal and lit the angles deep inside. Then she pretended she saw a different world dimly through the crystal, a place with flying horses and those who rode them lifting flashing swords. Later still, she just saw herself in the shadows.

She’d faced disillusionment today, maybe it was time to face herself again—then she’d know she was strong and able to deal with the future on her own. She’d never ride the rodeo circuit again, but she’d come to terms with that. She’d never have her father’s love, and that left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Levering herself up the wall slowly, she rose from the ledge and balanced on the stick.

She stared into the crystal and the shadows beyond the smooth outside plane. Her image was wavery, her blond hair a shade of yellow on the milkiness. She made out the curve of breast and hip.

But besides herself, she once again saw an imaginary vision of otherwhere. This time a section of a great, circular stone wall, and flickers of colorfully robed figures. Once again the strange sounds the doctors had called tinnitus plagued her. Chimes. A gong. The chanting of many voices in words she couldn’t seem to grasp. Gregorian chants, maybe.

Bong!

The sound came next to her ear, louder and more vibrant than ever. She pivoted, lost her balance and fell. Ah, shit, she was going to hit her head on the damn crystal.

But she fell through it, into a blank whiteness so pervasive she couldn’t tell if her eyes were open. She choked on a scream. All the emotions that had calmed as she sat on the ledge jammed into her. Fear. Despair. Most of all, a great longing for someone to love. Someone to love her back. A partner.

It lasted instants. It lasted an eternity. Then bright colors whirled in her sight—patterns, stained glass! She glimpsed pillars around the curved walls of a circular room, and rafters with huge crystal ends.

Pain shot up her hip, stealing breath. Calli didn’t believe this. Her throat closed with fear. She must have hit her head on the rock and was dreaming. She rubbed her head, but didn’t feel any bumps. Dazed, she examined her surroundings. A big round stone room with an altar and colored goblets. A gong. A circle of people.

Calli sucked in air. It didn’t smell anything like a hill in Colorado. It smelled like incense in a church. She gulped and shivering seized her.

A small woman with white hair and a young face, green eyes and a long scar along her cheek caught Calli’s attention. The lady wore a long velvet robe with silver threaded designs. “Hi, I’m Alexa Fitzwalter. Welcome to Lladrana,” she said.

This couldn’t be happening! But she wouldn’t take it lying down. When Calli awkwardly sat up, pain lancing low in her torso, the singing stopped.

Alexa stepped forward into the center of the star, compassion in her eyes. “It’s a rough trip.” She held out her hands.

Calli stared at her, touched her fingers. They felt solid and warm! Another moment passed and Calli realized that Alexa wouldn’t push. The dream woman was courteous. Alexa would let Calli make her own choices. A hard knot in her chest loosened, she was in charge of the dream. She put her hands in Alexa’s and was drawn to her feet with surprising ease and strength.

Alexa kept an arm around Calli as if to steady her and Calli was grateful for the physical and emotional support. Her gaze swept the circle of people, pausing at the men and women who were dressed more roughly than those in velvet robes.

When Alexa looked up at Calli, her expression was haunted. “We need you really, really bad.” Alexa licked her lips. “Do you know anything about horses?”

Clang! An alarm shrilled. Everyone in the room tensed.

Alexa cocked her head, her hands fisting. “We have no volarans,” her voice broke. “We can’t fly to battle.”

Stranger and stranger. Calli shot glances around the room, wanted to run, didn’t think she could hobble fast enough to escape…what?

“How good are you with horses?” Alexa demanded again, squeezing her arm.

Calli knew she flushed but shot up her chin. “Excellent. I’m an excellent horse trainer and one of the top barrel racers—”

People ran to the great door, flung it open, sending in bright summer-morning sunlight. A whir of wings rushed into the room.

Cheers rose outside. A young man shouted something.

“They came back,” Alexa whispered. Tears ran down her face. “The volarans have returned.” She looked up at Calli, sniffed. “I knew it was right to continue with the Summoning.”

Hooves hit the stone courtyard. The next moment people were spreading out in the room, making way for…for a winged horse.

Calli blinked. Blinked again. The pegasus didn’t vanish. In fact, more swept into the room. Ten. With dozens outside. Chestnuts, roans, piebalds, even a palomino or two. She caught her breath in sheer wonder and thought the top of her head would explode with this huge wave of horse-thoughts and horse-love radiating from them, inundating her.

A gray clopped up, stretched his wings, forcing people aside.

Her mind spun. Her mouth dropped open.

The stallion’s large dark gaze fixed on her. We love you. You are the Volaran Exotique. She heard the words in her head.

Then chimes clashed and she felt the sound storm through her, plucking at muscle and bone and nerve. She cried out, arching away from Alexa, escaping the woman’s grip. Reached for the winged horse, missed. Calli landed on the floor again on her butt and shrieked with the pain radiating through her pelvis.

Only agony existed. Everything else around her dimmed—she couldn’t see. Again and again the chimes rippled, but they sounded muffled as she grimly fought through the pain and hung on to the edge of consciousness.

Then someone struck the gong. Once. Twice.

She only heard a part of the third beat. Sweet darkness descended.

2

“She’s hurt!” Alexa Fitzwalter, once of Denver, now a Swordmarshall of Lladrana, whirled to face the Marshalls and Chevaliers.

Few were paying attention to her or the new Exotique. They were herding the newly arrived volarans out the door, the gray stallion grumbling, then taking off. People ran with unseemly haste to find their own winged companions.

The defection of the flying horses ten days ago had devastated the Chevaliers and Marshalls. A black pall of despair had filled the Castle. Calls to battle had been blessedly few—only three—but fighting without the flying horses was nearly impossible. Lladrana would be lost to the invading monsters without volarans. Dread had circled the Castle like a vulture.

They’d been desperate when they’d worked the ritual, praying the one they Summoned would somehow lure the volarans back.

A medica strode forward and crouched by the woman on the floor. Alexa turned back to watch the examination. She didn’t even know the woman’s name yet, but Alexa feared for her. She and the Marshalls had Summoned this woman from Colorado, away from Earth to this world, so Alexa was responsible for her until she made her own place on Lladrana. Biting her lip, Alexa shifted from foot to foot, grateful when her husband, Bastien, joined her.

He cocked his head, as if he listened to the mind-Song of a volaran—or many. His nostrils flared, then he grinned. He grabbed Alexa and spun her around and around, then placed her gently on her feet. Holding hands, they looked down where the medica sat next to the new Exotique, smoothing blond strands of hair away from a pale forehead.

“The volarans came back,” Bastien said. “For their Exotique.”

Alexa leaned against him in relief.

The medica said, “The Lady’s pelvis has recently been broken in three places.”

Alexa winced.

Glancing up at them, the medica said, “I suggest we all join together to do a healing spell.”

Alexa said, “I’ll call Marian, the Exotique Circlet Sorceress. She can help, too.” The community of Sorcerers had had Marian Summoned from Boulder, Colorado, just a few weeks ago.

“Good idea.” The medica hummed a slow lilting spellsong that settled the woman deeper into a healthful sleep.

Marrec watched as Lady Hallard closed the door of the healing room behind her, muting the continuous lilting of a healing Song. Hallard, the noble he swore loyalty to, ran her fingers through her hair.

He pushed from the wall where he’d stood, guarding the corridor for the last hour. “How’s it going?” he asked.

“Good,” Lady Hallard rasped. She rubbed her throat. “She might not be able to ride long hours horseback, but flying a volaran will be possible.”

“She’s the right one?”

Hallard shrugged. “Has to be, if you believe in the Song and the Marshalls’ Summoning.”

Amusement unfurled inside him, mixing with deep gratitude that his volaran had returned. He’d never prayed so hard as he had the last ten days, wanting Dark Lance back. Marrec was a poor man with only the one treasure—his volaran—to his name.

But he answered his liege-woman. “I don’t dare disbelieve in the Marshalls’ Power.”

She grunted, pulled out the gloves tucked in her belt and put them on. “Think I’ll take a late-afternoon ride—if my lady volaran will deign to do as I say.” There was irritation in Hallard’s tone. Like all the rest of them, they’d thought of the flying horses as their property. They’d never been so shocked in their lives as when the volarans—even those born and bred in noble stables—had all deserted to the wild herds and the legendary Volaran Valley. It had never happened before.

All the Chevaliers—and the Marshalls—would be uneasy for some time.

Looking at him from under lowered brows, Hallard said, “You’re one of those who can hear and talk with the volarans mentally, right?”

He kept an easy smile on his face, though all the muscles of his body had tensed. Now that their special gift was known, those like him could be either prized or destroyed by the rest of the Chevaliers, and everyone knew it. A delicate situation. A balancing act. He ducked his head. “Yes, my lady.”

“Huh. Your volaran say anything to you?”

“No.”

“I asked Bastien, he says they aren’t talkin’ to him, either. Says they want to talk to the new Exotique first.”

Marrec lifted and dropped a shoulder. “Bastien’s the best with the winged steeds.”

Without another word, the Lady strode away. Marrec exhaled a sigh and rubbed his forehead. Lady Hallard was rich, had six volarans and fifty Chevaliers who’d sworn fealty to her.

He had one volaran, Dark Lance, that he couldn’t even consider his anymore. He shuddered. He wasn’t getting any younger. Time to seriously think about making his fortune, taking risks on the battlefield for booty. He’d have to give the Lady thirty percent of what he earned, but somehow he must come up with a stake to buy a small parcel of land where he could retire and ranch. He didn’t want to spend his older days as a pensioner in Lady Hallard’s castle. If he lived that long.

The Chevaliers were hoping that the new Exotique would participate in a Choosing and Bonding ritual for a mate. Marrec hoped, too, that she might choose him.

Fast footsteps approached. Marrec moved to stand in front of the door, listening to the stride. A tall man, rich because he had good, hard leather for the heels and soles of his boots. Arrogant. Probably a nobleman.

Even before the man turned the corner so Marrec could see him, Marrec sensed it was Faucon Creusse. A nobleman with many Chevaliers, wealthier than most Marshalls, and nearly of equal status. Attractive to the ladies.

Faucon glanced at the door behind Marrec, probably didn’t even notice Marrec.

Faucon would want the woman. Marrec had heard that Faucon was one of those men who was innately drawn to Exotiques. Something in their mental Song or their strangeness or even their otherworldly scent, drew Faucon like light drew moths. He’d sniffed around Alexa until Bastien, and Bastien’s brother, Luthan, had interfered.

He’d met the Circlet Sorceress Marian and given her expensive gifts. Marrec had heard the nobleman had become close friends with the Lladranan-Who-Was-Now-Exotique, Marian’s brother, the Chevalier Koz who had a Lladranan body and Exotique mind.

The new female Exotique behind the door had been expressly Summoned for the Chevaliers, would bond better with the knights than any other segment of Lladranan society. All the more exciting for Faucon. Yes, he’d want her.

Any smart Chevalier would want a Powerful, rich, volaran-beloved woman.

Marrec wanted her, too.

Faucon’s expression was pleasant, but his body tense with need. His eyes burned. A smile formed on his lips, but he didn’t meet Marrec’s gaze. “Lady Hallard asked me to relieve you or join the healing circle.”

Marrec knew which one Faucon preferred, but the man was being courteous to him, lesser Chevalier, giving Marrec the choice. He didn’t particularly want to take part in the healing, his Power was only fair, but he wanted Faucon near the Exotique even less. The nobleman already had too many advantages and would no doubt charm the lady out of her senses…when she came to them.

“I’ll go in,” Marrec said. He opened the door and entered, shutting it behind him.

He’d never been in the Marshalls’ Healing Room before and hesitated on the threshold. For a stone room inside a stone tower in a stone Keep, it looked unexpectedly…soft. The curved room was paneled with wainscoting along the lower wall. Plaster above it was painted warm tones of some pinky-yellow-peach colors that seemed to shift in the light from the fat pillar candles of dark green and the sunlight. A row of pointed windows showed a summer-blue sky. The healing dais was set on richly layered rugs with long gold fringe. Atop the dais was a thick mattress, from the looks of it, made of pure down. The injured woman lay on her stomach, still fully dressed.

The rhythm of the chant did not break, though several gazes fixed on him. The circle was a mixture of Chevaliers and Marshalls—with two Circlets, mages of the highest degree—the Exotique Circlet Marian, who held the yellow-haired woman’s right hand, and her own husband, Jaquar.

Alexa was on the opposite side of the prone woman and held the new Exotique’s left hand and was linked to Bastien. Marrec could see the strong aura of Power rippling the air from the magical and prayerful Singing. He stiffened his spine. He didn’t care for linking with others, but he was needed. “I’ve come to replace Lady Hallard,” he said.

Two people raised their connected hands, indicating he should insert himself between them. Marrec sucked in a big breath. He’d be between the Circlet Sorcerer Jaquar and the leader of the Marshalls, Swordmarshall Thealia Germaine. The Power that cycled through the group was strong indeed. Flying out of his class. Too bad.

Moving as smoothly as he could, he walked around the foot of the dais and the people there, then stood in front of a plush chair and slowly insinuated himself into the circle, disturbing the flow of magic as little as possible. The medica at the foot of the table handled the uneven stream as he joined the group.

The force of Power rushed through him, the Singing whipping his blood, flooding his every cell, even as he passed most of it from Jaquar to Thealia, sending it around and on.

His hands heated to unbearable tenderness. He held on. The Power threatened to rock his balance. He hunkered down. His chest constricted. He opened his mouth to breathe and when he could, he added his voice to the Song.

It was an intricately layered Song, blended of voices from bass to soprano, harmonizing, hypnotic, healing. After a few minutes, Marrec became accustomed enough to the huge energy pouring through him to sink into the deep softness of the chair. He was aware of every nerve of his body, every pulse of his blood, every hair on his head—and some of those were turning silver with the Power he handled—making his own gift stronger, opening up rivers in his mind that had been trickles before.

Wondrous.

He wouldn’t walk away from this place the same man he’d been when he entered the door. The thought scared him, but he squeezed the fear into a tiny ball and hid it from the others.

His throat cleared, and he sent strength to his voice, to his words, full of Power. Gazes flew to him. He inclined his head. He knew he had a good voice, clear and true, he just hadn’t been able to use it fully until now.

A whispered murmur came to his mind. You add beauty and Power to our healing. Our thanks. Swordmarshall Thealia on his left dipped her head to him. The compliment surprised him, but he kept his Song steady.

Now that he was linked, he could see the green energy web they spun, blanketing it over the lady, subtly shifting it into her, healing as it went.

The lilting melody swept him along and now he felt the traces of the others—the steely bond between all the Marshalls at the table, forged time and time again as they linked during battle; the sizzling might of the Circlets, with hints of wind and wave and lightning—and an additional strange tang of other from Marian. Exotique.

Another taste of spice and blood and alien from Swordmarshall Alexa. Exotique.

And a fabulous, poignant sweetness that cycled several times before he realized where it originated. The lady on the mattress. Exotique.

She would never go unnoticed in Lladrana, this woman Summoned for the Chevaliers. Her hair was filaments of light, a color he’d never seen, never imagined. As golden as freshly minted jent coins. For long moments he stared at her hair, wondering at its fineness, pondering the texture.

Her face was turned toward him. Her skin was not as fair as Marian’s, slightly more tanned than Alexa’s. The woman worked outdoors, and for longer than Alexa had, but Alexa had come to Lladrana in the early spring and it was now late summer. Still, the new lady’s skin was not the color of a Lladranan’s and here and there he could see the interesting blueness of her veins.

Her brows were golden, too, her lashes a shade darker.

Her features were…not what he thought of noble. Surreptitiously, he studied Alexa and Marian. Of the three Exotiques, he’d have said that Marian looked the most “noble” with straight nose and comely eyes and lips, though her hair was that odd shade of dark red.

The light flickering on the golden hair caught him again, brought him back to the woman. Her energy was stronger now, more mixed with theirs. A new pitch had been added to the Song through her, vibrant, potent—pure, raw Power.

Marrec swallowed. All three of the ladies were Powerful, though their magic took different aspects, and the new one contained a greatness that matched the other two. She was for the Chevaliers, his portion of Lladranan society, the knights. He couldn’t see her in battle. He shook the thought away. Anticipating too much.

She whimpered. Marrec flinched. Thealia squeezed his fingers, reminding him to keep the Power flow even.

Their healing net had penetrated the woman’s body, was working on her broken bones. Marrec sensed this wasn’t the first time the procedure had been done in the hours since she’d arrived, but the fifth or sixth. Everyone had taken shifts of Singing except the Circlets and Alexa and Bastien, who had stayed the entire time. But then Bastien carried the wild magic of a black-and-white.

Marrec wasn’t tired at all, in fact he was still a little jittery from joining the circle, but he could tell others were at the last of their strength.

He glanced around, some looked worn and weary, gray-faced. Everyone here was of higher rank than he. It was not his place to tell them when to leave.

Projecting his voice, he added more Power so some could relax.

Eyes met his, and thanks were nodded.

As the Song swept him away, he studied the woman they healed again. A redness had come to her cheeks. He stared—of course Lladranans flushed, but it wasn’t nearly as noticeable as this. Her lips had parted and he saw even white teeth, but her mouth attracted his gaze. It was a deep pink. He’d never seen lips that color. A wash of heat slipped along his blood as he considered what the rest of her would look like.

Her breasts were flattened on the mattress, but they looked round and full. He eyed her butt and legs, muscular, like a rider’s would be.

He’d heard there were no volarans in the Exotique Land, but that there were horses. She had the tone of horsewoman.

A frisson of awareness raised the hair on the nape of his neck. He lifted his gaze from the woman to find four beady eyes fixed on him. Marrec tilted his chin at the two beings who hunched on either side of the injured woman’s head, still staring at him.

Then Marrec realized what they were—magical shape-shifting beings called fey-coo-cus. One had become Alexa’s companion after she arrived, the other had originally come from Exotique Terre with Marian. Today they appeared as foot-long rabbits, brown and white with dark patches over their eyes and noses as pink as the horsewoman’s lips.

They should have looked harmless, fluffy. They looked dangerous and threatening.

The door opened and several Chevaliers walked in, including Faucon and Lady Hallard.

“This is a good time to switch singers,” the medica rasped. “We have lowered the web through our patient and it is below her. We can swap people, then raise it one final time through her body. That should be enough.”

The rabbits turned their combined gazes to Faucon. He stopped under the weight of their scrutiny, then nodded. “Salutations, feycoocus.”

The magical beings twitched their ears, radiating welcome. Even they wanted Faucon for the woman. What chance did Marrec have?

3

Calli woke to foreign singing. Muzzy-headed, she didn’t know where the sound came from, but it was a lot better than the chanting of her tinnitus. She felt good, except a little cramped, and her face was squashed into something so soft she had trouble breathing.

She stretched, long and slow. Her mind caught up with her body. No pain! She rolled over to her back, eyes wide open…

And saw a bunch of strangely dressed people standing around her whispering, and not in English. Her insides clutched and she was suddenly afraid to move. These folks were armed. Those who wore richly colored poncho-like robes had chain mail underneath and a sheath on each hip. The people in leathers had swords at their sides.

She gulped, realizing they looked a lot like the people she’d glimpsed in the crystal on the hill for years. Riding flying horses—like those winged horses who’d come to look at her, speak to her in her mind.

She remembered falling through the face of the hillside—how could she do that?—and…and…being greeted by someone.

Glancing around, she saw that same someone, a small woman with silver hair, smiling at her from the right side of her bed.

“Hi, welcome to Lladrana.” Her face clouded. “It would have been better if you’d told us you were hurt as soon as you came.”

“Urgh,” was all Calli could manage.

A woman’s laugh came. “Give her a break, Alexa. Don’t you remember how it was?”

Calli struggled to sit up, strong hands grasped her shoulders from behind and lifted her easily. She heard a tinkling song. She eyed the people around her. They were all tall and beautiful, with golden skin and dark hair and eyes, not quite Asian looking. Other.

“You’re not in Kansas—well, Colorado—anymore,” the other woman said.

Alexa chuckled and patted Calli’s hand. “You’re not in Oz, either. This is Lladrana, another dimension and I’m Alexa Fitzwalter.” She beamed.

Calli must be dreaming.

A tall, auburn-haired woman, plump and pretty, came to stand next to Alexa, the second woman who’d spoken in English. “Hi, I’m Marian Dumont, late of Boulder, now a Circlet of Lladrana.” She touched a golden band she wore around her forehead. The hammered design showed clouds and lightning.

Sticking out a hand, Alexa said, “I came from Denver in the spring. Pleased to meet you, Ms.—”

Letting her gaze roam, Calli figured out that the rest of the folks were watching intently and not talking because they didn’t understand English. She wondered what language they spoke. She looked at Alexa’s hand, put her own in it and received a surge of warmth that flooded her and left her fingers tingling. She licked her lips and tried her voice. “I’m Callista Torcher. Calli.”

The redhead jostled Alexa aside in a teasing manner and held out her hand. There was something about the gesture, maybe the way Alexa and Marian stood, that warned Calli that she was being tested somehow. Besides the incredible little surge of…something…she’d felt from Alexa, the smaller woman’s grip had been firm and strong, her hand callused.

Calli shivered and slid her fingers against Marian’s. This time she felt a heady zip that made her head buzz. She shook her head to clear it. Marian released her fingers and chuckled, a richer sound than Alexa’s.

Large hands squeezed her shoulders, making her aware of them once more. Man’s hands. Thumbs brushed her shoulder blades, then the hands vanished as a man to her left circled the bed she was on. He wore leathers the color of butterscotch that were obviously expensive. He made a flourishing bow to her. “Faucon Creusse,” he said, and she decided that was his name.

Never in her life had a guy bowed to Calli. She nodded at him, but too-handsome men made her a little wary. They usually had great expectations of a woman and didn’t return much. At least the rodeo cowboys she’d known tended to be that way.

“So, how much French do you know?” Alexa asked briskly, drawing Calli’s attention back to her right.

“Uh, none,” Calli said.

Marian nodded. “How good are you at languages?”

Calli shrugged. “Pretty fair. I have quite a bit of Spanish.”

Alexa made a face. “I’m terrible. I’ll have a bad accent for the rest of my life. I chose to stay here on Lladrana.”

Calli froze. She wasn’t ready to accept she was in a different place—who would? And if, by some impossible chance, she was somewhere else, she wasn’t ready to cope with that, either. The hurt of her father’s rejection still shadowed her heart, echoed in her mind.

An older lady spoke, and the language was French sounding, for sure. This woman wore tough, dark brown leathers. She walked up the right side of the bed to stand next to Alexa and did a half bow. “Nuaj Hallard,” the woman said.

Again Calli nodded. Who knew what they did as greeting here? From the long robe with no armor that Marian wore, they might even curtsey. Like bowing, curtseying had never been an item in Calli’s life.

“Lady Hallard’s right,” Alexa said. “Callista doesn’t need to know Lladranan to get a tour of the Castle.”

Lady? Castle? Uh-oh. Sure didn’t sound like Colorado.

With glee in her eyes, Alexa smiled at Calli, and Calli braced herself for a zinger. “How would you like to see the winged horses again?”

The flying steeds couldn’t be real, could they? She just stared at the grinning Alexa, the smiling Marian and the serious Lady Hallard. After a minute, Calli said, “Say again?”

“Winged horses,” Alexa said.

“Flying horses,” Marian said.

The words rang in Calli’s ears, but she could almost see a big question mark hovering above her head with the word duh?

“It’s true,” Alexa assured. “We have flying horses here, called volarans.”

“From the French word fly,” Marian said.

“Uh,” Calli said. She did want to see them again.

“So,” Alexa said, “do you want to humor our madness?”

Once more, Calli scanned the room full of men and women—some in robes and armor, some in leathers that looked to be for fighting. Caution, deep and strong, swept her. Weapons. Armor. These people were at war. If they were being nice to her, it was because they wanted something.

If they were really here at all and she wasn’t crumpled on the ledge of the hillside from cracking her head hard—having a dream more imaginative than ever before.

A man said something and Lady Hallard withdrew and Alexa and Marian stepped aside. Another guy, this one not as tall but more solid and with a gleam of devil-may-care that Calli knew all too well from her rodeo days, bowed in front of her and offered his arm. Alexa circled his other biceps with her fingers. “My husband, Bastien Vauxveau.”

He was married. Good. But to Alexa? She’d married a guy here? Then Calli noticed a strange thing. They both had a golden color pulsing around them, merging where they touched, sparkling with glitter. Wow. And they looked really good together. Happy.

A bolt of yearning for such love struck Calli so hard she nearly doubled over. She’d thought she and her dad were partners. She’d loved him, ignoring some of the offers for sex and a serious relationship with rodeo men. She’d had her plans to build up the Rocking Bar T to a fine horse-training ranch with Dad and when she was successful look around for a man.

All gone.

Bastien quirked a brow at her, wiggled his elbow. Alexa grinned. Yep, a happy couple. Partners. Calli turned wide eyes to Marian.

“Yes, I’m married, too. To a sexy Sorcerer. A Circlet like myself.” Marian answered Calli’s unspoken question.

Oh, wow. The back of her neck tingled. Slowly she turned her head to see Faucon Creusse smiling at her.

“He’s unmarried and available,” Alexa provided. “But we need to talk a little.”

“We need to talk a lot.” If she weren’t dreaming. From the corner of her eye, she saw a woman bobbing her head.

“She’s available and unpaired, too,” Marian said. “This culture has no bias against homosexuality. There are different levels of commitment, here, too.”

“I’m straight,” Calli said absently, doing another scan of the people in the room—different colored and worn leathers—some people wore bands around their arms. Did that mean anything? From the gazes she met, she thought about a third in the room were “available.”

“Marian’s right,” Alexa said. “She and her husband were married in a formal, long, magical ceremony that bound them together, hearts, minds and souls.”

“Not to mention bodies,” Marian murmured.

“Bastien and I haven’t done that yet. But we’re Paired. The guy, here—” Alexa poked him gently in the chest “—is commitment shy.” Bastien winced as if he got the gist of Alexa’s words. Calli didn’t doubt the statement.

“I see,” she lied, turning back to the women and Bastien. She looked at Marian, dressed in a long linen dress of beige with a deep over-robe of dark blue, remembering her words. “You’re a Circlet, a Sorceress?”

“Yes,” Marian said. “I’m only visiting the Marshalls’ Castle, to help in the healing spell and to aid you in adjusting to Lladrana. Alexa called me by crystal ball,” she ended blandly.

Calli let that one go. She stared at Alexa, who wore a blue-green robe over chain mail, had a sword at one hip and a short, cylindrical sheath at the other—and a nasty scar on her face. “You’re a…” Calli didn’t know what.

Alexa dipped her head. “I’m a Marshall.” She tapped the short sheath. “This is my Marshall’s baton.”

Calli vaguely remembered the words from long-ago history lessons, but the concept still eluded her. “And that means?”

“She’s the crème de la crème of magical warriors in this society,” Marian said.

So Alexa had landed on her feet. Calli wasn’t surprised. The woman had an air of complete competence about her. Calli gestured to Lady Hallard. “She doesn’t wear the same sort of clothes, so she’s a…”

“Very observant,” Marian said.

Calli didn’t think so. It was just natural curiosity.

“She’s a Chevalier,” Alexa said.

Now, that word Calli knew. “French for horseman.”

“Right,” Marian said. “In this instance it translates to ‘Knight,’ and in this culture, it means those who ride volarans or, if no volarans are around, horses. Lady Hallard is the leader of the Chevaliers, with men and women under her.” Marian gestured to a tall, lean man who wore the same yellow and green as the Lady. At Marian’s wave, he nodded, unsmiling, to them.

Again a tinge of wariness slithered up Calli’s spine. Warriors. Knights. She sensed there was a lot no one was telling her, even these seemingly welcoming women who said they were from Colorado. What was going on?

Bastien joggled his still-extended elbow. “Ven?”

“What could a tour hurt?” asked Alexa.

“You will certainly confirm that you aren’t in Colorado anymore. And once you see the volarans—”

“You’ll know you aren’t even on Earth,” Alexa said cheerfully.

Calli shuddered.

Marian touched her shoulder. “It takes some getting used to.”

Ignoring the banter, Calli swung her legs around, pushed off from the high bed and jarred to her feet. Bastien caught her hand in his and placed it on his arm, steadying her balance. There was a faint spurt of warmth from his touch but it felt unlike the women’s.

She should have shrieked in pain at the combination of movements. Instead, she felt almost as good as new. There was still a tenseness about her muscles, a sense of the fragility of her mended pelvis, something she didn’t think would ever go away, but she moved as if the fall had been a year ago, not months. That, more than anything, scared her into believing she was “somewhere else.” She didn’t want to think about that, though. She cleared her throat. “What did you do to me?”

“We healed you,” Alexa said.

Marian said, “We have magic. All of us have magic, and you do, too. It’s called Power here, and the culture is an aural one—more based on sound than vision. They call the Supreme Being ‘the Song,’ and use singing to channel their magic.”

Yeah. Right. Calli narrowed her eyes. Marian looked like a woman who would call the Supreme Being “Goddess.” Calli hadn’t often run into that religion, except the time when a pagan group held some sort of retreat on a campground near town.

She licked her lips.

“Want some water?” Marian asked. She went to an elegantly carved wooden corner table topped with marble and poured water from a pitcher into a heavy glass goblet, then brought it to Calli.

Calli sniffed, it smelled minty.

“Only water with peppermint,” Marian said.

Calli didn’t drink.

Alexa heaved a sigh. “On my word of honor, only minty water.” She touched her baton sheath.

Marian nodded. “On my word of honor.”

Alexa was from Denver and Marian from Boulder. Both city types. Would their words be good? Calli considered them and decided to trust them. It might just be a dream, after all.

As the water slid down her throat, leaving a tang of peppermint on her tongue, Calli thought it tasted awfully good and was pretty damn wet for a dream. She finished the glass and handed it to Marian, who put it back on the table.

“First things first,” Alexa said, starting toward the door. Bastien tucked Calli’s hand in his elbow and he and Calli followed Alexa.

Alexa continued. “This is the main healing room in the Keep of the Castle.”

“Keep?” asked Calli. That didn’t sound too familiar.

“Uh, the Marshalls’ Headquarters,” Alexa said. They exited into a wide hallway made of gray stone. Rustling behind her told Calli that others would be leaving, too. Now that they’d healed her. Huh. She wondered who would accompany her on the “tour.” She had an idea Marian and Faucon would come along.

“We’re on the second story of a five-story building, near the front that faces the Temple Ward. A ‘ward’ is a courtyard, and this one has a big, round Temple at the end. That’s where we Summoned you and where you came through the dimensional corridor this morning,” Alexa said.

They turned left and walked to the end of the hallway to a set of stairs.

“We’ll give you a map,” Alexa said.

“When we brief you later,” Marian said. “In private.”

That might be good. So many new faces were a little intimidating. Calli really hadn’t believed she had such an imagination to populate this dream. All of her other dreams—until recently—had been of simple stuff.

She suddenly recalled the dream that had woken her that morning. Alarms. People needing help…like several she’d had lately.

They tromped down the stairs and sounded like a bunch of people clattering down a stone staircase. The floor was hard under the soles of her boots, too.

“My tower’s diagonally behind us.” A smile flickered over Alexa’s face. “I have a whole tower to myself, here at the Marshalls’ Castle. I also have an estate of my own. You’ll get one, too.”

“A spread of my own?” Calli pounced on the statement.

“Yes.”

“Are there mountains?” Even walking down the large hallway, Calli could tell the air was more humid, felt different in her nose and on her tongue than the air she was used to. All her senses fed her unfamiliar information. She had to be dreaming, or there was a really big catch.

A shadow passed over Alexa’s face and for the first time she answered hesitantly. “There are mountains, but I don’t think you should live in them.”

“I can handle anything the mountains throw at me,” Calli said. She’d been through blizzard and fire and drought. But that was Colorado. If she was in some other dangerous place, she didn’t want to stay. She wanted her land, her ranch.

They reached a door. Alexa threw it open.

And Calli saw dozens of winged horses. Once again a flood of affection came from them.

Bastien urged her forward, but as soon as she took a step outside into the yard, the horses trumpeted in greeting.

She couldn’t help herself. Fascination at their beauty mesmerized her. She threw off Bastien’s hold and strode into the yard and was immediately surrounded by horseflesh. No, volaran flesh. Warm and fragrant and strong and just completely marvelous.

They pushed against her, noses snuffling at her hair, her shoulders, everywhere.

She was buffeted and…passed around.

What was even more fabulous was that she heard—whisperings—brushing her mind.

Our Exotique.

Our Calli.

Our friend.

She reached out and stroked a neck, patted a nose and finally touched the wing of the dappled gray stallion.

The volarans moved several lengths away from her and the gray. The courtyard fell silent. Quietly, with infinite grace, the gray stretched out his wing for her to study.

It was simply the most beautiful thing Calli had ever seen. Huge and soft with feathers. But this was a big horse. She didn’t know how it could fly.

Magic. She heard the word clearly in her mind. And our bones are strong but hollow.

She swallowed.

Quick, small footsteps advanced and Alexa joined her. The woman’s face was alight with wonder.

“They love you,” Alexa said. “You’ve only just met them and they all love you.”

Once more Calli became aware of the delight emanating from them. This time it wasn’t words or just a feeling. This time it was a Song of welcome, blended of harmonies that sang of wild flight with the wind, of running, of pirouetting and playing in the air.

Like the sound that she had heard as a child when riding free and fast across a mountain meadow. A sound so sweet it made tears sting her eyes.

There were quick notes that skipped like her pulse before a barrel-riding competition.

The tune changed, became a song of fighting in battle.

An alarm clanged, echoing around the stone castle walls, pounding danger into the silence, breaking the mental song into a hundred fragments.

“Horrors invading through Arde Pass!” Alexa shouted.

Suddenly Bastien was there, running past them and grabbing Alexa. Saddles appeared on the backs of many volarans. Calli goggled. Had to be magic.

Bastien flung Alexa up onto the back of a big, black volaran, sprang into the saddle behind her and they rose in an upward spiral.

Calli’s breath caught as feathered wings swept the sky, flashing all colors against a bright blue. There was nothing so beautiful as a volaran in flight. The loveliness tightened her stomach.

Others ran and claimed their mounts. Calli saw Lady Hallard, Faucon, a man in pristine white leathers. Chevaliers in riding garb and Marshalls in their armor, all rose on a flurry of wings.

Two hawks bulleted from the Castle walls and flew beside Alexa. Soon, only a few volarans remained in the courtyard, including the gray and a mare with her young filly. Marian, a tall man with startling blue eyes and a golden headband standing next to her and some soldiers were the only people around.

Slowly Calli turned to the Circlets—Marian and her husband. A question she didn’t want answered tore from her throat. “Where did they go?”

“They go to fight the invading monsters. To live or die,” Marian said, face white and strained.

It had to be a dream.

4

Calli ran her fingers all along her skull, paying attention to her temples, and the side of her head that would have hit the crystal. No cracks, no breaks. No pain.

She pressed a hand to her chest, felt the thump-thump-thump of her heart. Hearing it in her temples, it was slightly loud, slightly fast.

“You really are in a different world,” Marian said. Her gaze swept the empty ward, her smile forced. “Well, it looks as if the briefing is up to me.” Her hand reached out for the man’s next to her and was immediately clasped and squeezed.

Another woman who’d found love on Lladrana.

After a deep breath, Marian said, “We have several choices as to where to go. Alexa’s tower guest suite is open. The Chevaliers, of course, prepared a suite in Horseshoe Hall and Jaquar and I are living in the Sorcerers’ guest rooms. We’ll have tea.”

Calli stared at her. “Tea! What about beer? Better yet, whiskey.”

The man snorted. He appeared totally masculine in the long robe. A thought struck Calli.

“Shouldn’t he not understand us?”

Marian flushed, but answered with more grace than Calli might have managed. “We’ve developed a potion that helps with language comprehension. Naturally, we needed a test subject. Jaquar volunteered. He’s the only Lladranan who understands contemporary American usage.”

“You said you were from Boulder. The university, right? What were you, a prof?” Calli asked.

“Close, a grad student on the way to a professorship and a nice tenure track.”

“I might understand the words, but the concept of that last sentence eluded me,” Jaquar said in English. He bowed. “My pleasure to meet you, Lady Callista Torcher.”

“Boy, you catch on fast.” Calli stared at him. His words had a definite lilt, especially when pronouncing her name, but were perfectly understandable.

Since Calli wasn’t wearing a dress, and wasn’t sure how to curtsey anyway, she inclined her torso. Without pain. That notion still amazed her.

“Though drink sounds good, I think it might be most illuminating for Calli to visit the Map Room,” Jaquar said.

“I don’t know—” Calli started.

The little filly danced up to Calli, butted her. I am here and wanted you here and we all wanted you here and you came! Love us.

Another hard shot to the heart. How could she not love this dainty…what? Tentatively she stretched out her hand and stroked the little hor—volaran top to toe.

The dappled gray crowded close. Except for this one, I am the best at talking to humans. So I am yours to partner with. He nickered, then sniffed at her. You are healed and well. Want to fly?

Her hand went to her throat, clogged with turbulent emotions. Would they ever calm down and sort out? What a day! “I…I don’t know how.”

The volaran blinked. She’d spoken English. But it had spoken…what? Pressing her lips together in concentration, she sent her wide-eyed amazement at a flying horse to the volaran, with the image of a lot of horses—a herd of horses, and no volarans.

Horses only? His mental voice held disbelief.

She nodded. Yes. Nibbling her bottom lip, she considered what to do. Just the offer by the gray volaran was a challenge.

Marian and Jaquar stared at her, muttering to each other, faces set in fascinated expressions.

“You’re talking to the volaran?” asked Jaquar.

“Did he speak telepathically to you?” Marian said at the same time.

Calli rolled her eyes. “Shit, you two.”

Marian chuckled. “Yes, we’re endlessly interested in everything. I saw you nod. A nod means agreement, just like in the States.”

Practicality surfaced. Calli’d never ridden a strange horse without playing games on the ground with it first. She sent an image of her favorite game, followed by Play first?

Snorting, the volaran said, I am not a horse. Volarans are much superior. He paused and she realized that he wasn’t speaking English or—or that other language. He was speaking horse-volaran-equine.

And she was understanding, in her mind and by watching him—eyes, ears, mouth and feet.

We play games in the air.

Well, that let her out. Volaran or not, she’d bet that, like horses, these equines tested their leaders. She may have been welcomed by them, felt that wave of love, but that didn’t mean they’d automatically elect her leader.

My back is broad and I will be careful. Just a short ride…I will use no distance magic.

I will be in charge, Calli replied, lifting her chin, getting the hang of the talking. She felt she spoke horse better than any other language.

Of course. Was there a hint of slyness in that reply, in the dapple’s eyes?

It didn’t matter. Anything other than a flying horse, Calli could have resisted. But if this was a dream, she didn’t want to wake before she’d flown on a winged horse.

Me, too. Me, too. Me! The filly gamboled about. Tossed her head, then blew out a little breath and continued, My Dam will fly with me. We will all fly together.

The gray’s back rippled and a saddle appeared on it. Calli went up and checked the tack. It was harsher on horse—volaran—than the bits and bridles and saddle she usually used.

That would change if she stayed…if she awoke and it wasn’t a dream.

No, said the mare to her filly. Thunder and the Lady will fly high and fast and far. We will stay here.

The filly huffed and circled the courtyard.

Smiling, Calli unsaddled and unbridled the volaran, leaving the equipment on the ground. He watched her with an astonished gaze. So did the Circlets. Marian’s mouth had fallen open. Calli sensed that both she and her husband rode horses and flew volarans.

She’d like a hackamore, but if she was going to impress the stallion, she’d go all the way bareback. Hey, if it was a dream, all she’d do was wake up if she fell, and if it wasn’t, well, maybe her life wasn’t too much to pay for a ride on a flying horse.

Don’t you humans need those things? The stallion still looked at the saddle.

Trying to talk in her head and aloud, Calli said. “I didn’t like the tack I saw.”

“Oh,” Marian said.

Calli smiled. “Ever hear of natural horsemanship?”

Marian relaxed and smiled, too. “Of course. I saw a few demonstrations.” Her face clouded. “I never learned and my mother’s polo ponies—” She stopped.

“Polo.” Calli huffed a breath. Were they from different backgrounds or what?

With a determined nod, Marian strode to face the gray stallion. “Listen here.” She gestured to Calli. “This is your Exotique. If you lose her, you will have to explain to the Chevaliers why. And those who brought her here will reconsider Summoning someone else if you have no respect for her.”

Calli could have told Marian that she was wasting her breath. The volaran was paying more attention to Calli stroking his ears than Marian’s words. A shadow in his mind did hint at a concern of losing her and explaining that to the alphas in Volaran Valley.

As she continued caressing his ears, he relaxed, just as the horses she knew did, lowering his head.

Smiling, she relaxed, too, relieved. She did have knowledge that could apply to volarans. She ran her hand from neck to shoulder, shoulder to withers and barrel, again and again. His coat was silkier, softer than horsehair, as if each individual piece was not a hair strand but a minute feather. He stood quiet under her hands, yet pleasure emanated from him. Occasionally she sensed a “nudge” to rub or scratch him in a particular spot.

Cautiously, she set her hand on the upper edge of the muscular ridge where his wings attached to his body, marveling again at them—their softness, the coloring that complemented his coat. All the equine cues she’d read showed respect. With a deep breath and a prayer in her heart, she set one hand in the dark mane, the other in the small of his back and hauled herself up—nearly flew onto him. Something inside her sprang open, imbuing her with energy and grace and…and…magic?

She rubbed up his neck, all the while realizing that he was extraordinary, felt more than horselike. His wings fluttered against the back of her calves, causing an amazing feeling to well up inside her. As if here, on the back of this volaran, was her true destiny. For a moment she just sat, eyes closed. He didn’t smell horselike, but sweet and musky, like some crumbling amber she’d once had.

Interesting, he said. The neck muscles under her hand moved and she opened her eyes to see him staring at her. He whinnied. You feel good, you have great Power. Let’s go. He lifted his wings.

Calli’s stomach dipped. One moment. She scanned the area. The courtyard was huge.

Now she’d see if he’d obey her. Back for a running start.

Don’t need a running start.

Again she stilled, let the beginning of her day rerun in her head, how she’d risen with pain, negotiated the steps, called for her horse…the emptiness she’d felt for months at not riding. Then she settled back, brought her legs forward slightly, squeezed and released. Back.

The volaran backed, she even turned him so they had all the courtyard ahead of them. Her mind seemed to touch his and it was almost as if they were one creature and not two. He was calm and a little amused.

“Good going!” Marian called. She and Jaquar had stayed near the door of the big square building with the large round corner towers. All along the courtyard people showed up in the walks to watch. Calli thought she saw money changing hands. She chuckled. Maybe not too different from Ea—Colorado after all. For a dream.

Finally, they stopped in the shadow of the huge white round temple behind them. At the opposite end of the courtyard was a three-story building with two small towers.

Another big breath. Soon she’d find out just how well she’d healed. The courtyard was paved with large gray stones. She leaned forward, whispering in the volaran’s ear and in its mind. Ready to run?

Yes.

Go!

He ran. Elation flooded her. No pain! More, the volaran’s gait was smooth, his body powerful under her. Strength and vitality flowed from hindquarters to neck, sifting down to his wingtips. She felt his energy mingling with her new extra sense. Before they were halfway down the courtyard his wings lifted, caught the air and they were soaring!

Calli gasped as they cleared the buildings, gasped again as she saw an additional courtyard beyond the one that held the temple. They flew high, angling toward the sun, and the moment was so huge, so incredible that it sank into her forever like she’d been gilded with sunlight.

Once again that day she lived in a moment of exquisite awareness, of total brilliance. The blue bowl of the sky dusted with clouds whirled around her and her mount. The entire universe centered around her and every wonderful thing in it focused on her.

She was life.

She was Power.

She flew.

Song filled her ears—wispy airs from the clouds, a hollow gonglike reverberation pulsing from the sky, a small, erratic Song radiating from the eart—planet below.

The planet is named Amee, said the volaran.

His Song enveloped them, laughing, exhilarated. He swept through a cloud and tiny particles shivered over her skin and cooled her.

She laughed to herself.

I am Gray-Clouds-That-May-Rain-Or-Thunder-Or-Clear.

The English name sounded awkward in her head—the name was more than an image, it was active motion. A sky billowing with gray clouds of infinite possibilities which might change any moment. A future of many paths hung on that name. She’d call him Thunder.

“Callista” meant “most beautiful” and until now she’d never felt she’d lived up to that name.

But now, now, as they rode through the sunlight and shadow, wind tearing her hair back from her face, caressing her body, atop the volaran, Calli was the most beautiful woman in two worlds.

Finally she looked down and her gut clenched. She held tight to Thunder’s mane. The world below was green and fertile. And a long, long, long way down. What had possessed her to fly without tack? Yes, she, a wingless human did need something familiar to hang on to, even if it wasn’t as horse-friendly as it should have been.

She could almost hear herself go splat. Then she saw what she was flying over. Rolling green land. Fields. Woods. Manor houses. Villages. She thought a couple of towers and spires on the horizon to her left might be a small city. Land like this on Earth would be crowded with people.

Scents rose to her—rich and summer and humid, lush with verdant plant life. Not Colorado.

Was she dreaming? Or had she really fallen through that crystal to another world and was finally living the life always destined for her?

Too much. Far too many exotic, exciting experiences today. She nudged Thunder to circle and return to the Castle. He ignored her.

Panic twinged each nerve, though she kept an easy, calm and confident posture.

Thunder chuckled in her mind and she realized that flying on a volaran would take different skills. She was used to thinking through any demonstration of horse fears, staying positive. She wasn’t accustomed to some damn horse rustling around in her mind. With a couple of breaths, she settled herself completely. She was sure that she was the alpha in this situation, despite what Thunder thought.

With her legs, hands and mind, she concentrated on the pressure points of the horse/volaran’s body. Horses were prey animals, always aware of their surroundings. Calli didn’t sense that volarans here were as preyed upon as horses had been on Earth, but they would have prey instincts.

Humans were predators. She didn’t want to remind Thunder of that, she just wanted him to accept her as the alpha of the herd. The herd of two here in the sky. She kept her own concerns tightly reined. He might sense them, but he’d also see that she did not allow them to control her.

She reached out and touched the wing ridge of the side she wanted to turn.

He dipped.

She hung on and asked again for a turn.

He glanced back, lowered his head, licked his lips and made a wonderful, sweeping turn.

“Yee-ha!” she shouted into the blue, rubbing Thunder’s neck.

His mind melded with hers. You are most beautiful.

Soon a rocky promontory was in sight, and upon it, the Castle. She sighed, definitely ready to return. Calli noted how big the Castle was, larger than she’d thought. Frowning, she understood that there must be even more to it than the two courtyards she’d seen. On the land below it—what direction?—was a large town.

South of the Castle is Castleton.

Castleton, huh? Well, that made sense. And if Castleton was south, that meant they were flying east toward the Castle and had been flying west to the…great lake? Sea? Ocean?

The Circlets have Towers on the islands off the west coast of Lladrana in the Sea of Brisay.

Thunder seemed eager to please, now. His mind was completely unruffled, and completely accepting of her.

Calli tried more telepathy. I saw no one else flying.

The horrors invade from the north. Thunder tensed under her. He flew faster, tucked his legs close to his body. A prey animal making himself a smaller target. Whatever these horrors were, Calli got the idea that they ate volarans. Predators.

You will see, Thunder said. He quivered and his thoughts disintegrated into images and shapes and tones she couldn’t understand. True equinespeak that she could feel but not completely understand.

The Castle loomed bigger and bigger, with a wall about three stories high and the square building with four towers rising an extra two.

Awesome.

Most of it was gray stone, though part was of yellow, and she could discern the round white building of the great Temple.

There is a Landing Field. Thunder’s ears flicked. It was more a question than statement.

We will land from where we took off. I’m sure Marian and Jaquar are waiting for us. Now she thought of them, she could feel them, as if they’d connected with her some way. During the healing? Probably. Wouldn’t folks who healed you with magic from the inside be connected with you afterward? Made sense. She might have a lot of bonds already, then. Huh.

More than feeling them, she could hear Songs. An interesting, intricate Song with echoes of Earth rhythms from Marian, an equally complicated, more masculine bass and brass from Jaquar. And a powerful twining Song greater-than-its-parts from them as a couple.

She saw them in the courtyard, sitting and observing her, leaning together. A brief spurt of envy held her still.

Thunder zoomed down, turned. The wind caught his wings and he tipped sideways. Calli’s fingers slipped from his mane and she fell right off him. She screamed and plummeted. A whisk of air surrounded her, spun her like she was trapped in a gentle whirlwind, then she was righted and set onto her feet before Marian and Jaquar.

Marian’s eyes were huge, her hands to her throat. Jaquar’s right arm was outstretched. Calli stared at it. It had been he, the Sorcerer, who’d caught her and brought her down safely.

Magic.

She really needed that whiskey.

Marrec could hardly believe Dark Lance was back and they were flying to battle, just as they had for many years. He swallowed hard. The cool wind stung his eyes. He blinked and looked around him, awed by the sight of all the Marshalls and Chevaliers streaming to the battlefield at the same time. Bright colors, shining armor and gleaming volaran coats flowed like banners against the summer blue sky.

Usually there’d be fighters caught elsewhere when the alarm rang, who’d arrive later, but all the Chevaliers of the Castle had been near the Keep, or lounging in Temple Ward, to glimpse the new Exotique.

So they flew together and Marrec’s heart lifted. The Castle alarm was connected to the magical fence posts along the north border of Lladrana. When it rang, the pattern of the notes and the stridency alerted them to the place where the monsters invaded and the number of horrors to expect. Experience had taught him to understand the alarm. They flew to the northeast.

As he watched, opaque bubbles formed around volarans and riders, masking the bold heraldic colors and gleam of mail. “Distance magic,” spells that increased the distance a volaran flew with every beat of its wings. Warriors could fly immense distances and engage the enemy near the border instead of dealing with monsters deep in Lladrana.

Need Power for Distance Spell, said Dark Lance.

5

Marrec sent Power to his volaran. Together they curved the distance-magic spell around them. With every beat of wings, leagues were covered.

Dark Lance whinnied in surprise. More Power.

It was his first real mental communication since he’d returned.

Yes, Marrec said. I linked with others, with the Marshalls and stronger Chevaliers to heal the new Exotique. The pathways in my mind that channel Power opened more.

Good, Dark Lance said, then fell silent. The volaran had never been one to speak while flying unless it was urgent. Their few real conversations had taken place in the stables. Marrec ached to question Dark Lance on the disappearance but had to put his curiosity aside to prepare for battle.

When the bubble of distance magic popped, Marrec rose from a light trance and watched the ground near. They descended to a large clearing in the shadow of the mountains. Dark Lance was following Lady Hallard’s volaran down to the west side of the battle. The Marshalls were already down and fighting as the incredible team they were—fifty linked minds decimated the monsters.

With a clutch of his gut, Marrec saw there were plenty of foes still available. This was one of the largest attacks he’d ever seen. Had the Dark taken note that they’d struggled to repel the last few incursions—and on horseback, not volarans? He was all too sure of that.

Not one slayer, render or soul-sucker could be allowed to escape into the interior of Lladrana.

He slipped his shield onto his right arm, unsheathed his broadsword.

“Marrec!” Two volarans and riders were at his left, Chevaliers sworn to Lady Hallard, a man and a woman with whom he usually teamed. All of them could speak with their volarans. He hesitated.

Dark Lance didn’t, and Marrec was pulled into a loose connection of minds. The other volarans were mere murmurs.

That mixed bunch, left! cried Sharmane, diving toward a group of ten.

Renders are mine! Jon shouted, heading for a massive black-furred beast with razor-sharp claws.

Soul-suckers! Marrec called. Dark Lance trembled, but Marrec was determined and urged his mount toward the two soul-suckers on the fringes. Soul-suckers rated the best bounty and he wanted some hides.

I will Shield you both, Sharmane yelled.

Dark Lance caught a soul-sucker with one hoof in its nose hole, smashing the gray head apart with a killing blow. The three tentacles at its right shoulder writhed, one whipping across Marrec’s waist. A yellow slayer spine shot to him. He deflected the poisonous arrow with his shield, swung his sword and decapitated another soul-sucker, continued his blow to slash the back of the yellow-furred slayer. The thing shrieked and turned, spines shooting from its arm straight to Dark Lance.

Terror flooded Dark Lance. He reared. Spines struck, bounced off the protective shield both Marrec and Sharmane had slapped over the volaran. Marrec pulled the fear from his steed’s mind, using the emotion to drive his own Power, making his strikes harder, faster. He sent iron calm and fierce determination to the volaran. We shield. You live.

Only the moments mattered, the next blow, ducking, turning, spearing. Slashing, kicking, cleaving. His mind held the volaran’s, refusing to let the winged horse panic, bolstering its innate courage. Imposing his will for the duration of the fight.

He caught sight of the bright blue line of energy from a newly raised fence post. In a fury of fighting, he forced a render and a soul-sucker onto the border line and killed them. The energy field flared high and secure at that point and Marrec grinned, a rictus of triumph.

Done! came the loud shout of the Marshalls, rushing from mind to mind to the Chevaliers. The battle was over, all the horrors destroyed.

He panted a spell over his blade to clean it, ordered Dark Lance to the ground. Marrec wiped his forehead with his arm, winced as he finally felt the sting of two sucker rounds that had raised bumps on his cheek. His muscles were tired, aching, but his blood still sang with the aftermath of victory. He grinned at Sharmane and Jon and went to count his booty.

He found six soul-sucker bodies with his killing mark, three renders and a couple of slayers. A third of his kill went to Sharmane who’d acted as his Shield. He gave his tally to Lady Hallard and she took her third, choosing to keep the two headless soul-suckers with most of their hide and tentacles. Soul-sucker was now in demand for hats ever since Bastien Vauxveau had shown how well they protected a person from the frink-worms that fell with the rain.

When Marrec piled his prize in the spell-net, ready to take to an assayer, Dark Lance lifted his lip. Nasty smell.

“Yes, but I made some decisions when you were gone. From now on we’ll be taking all our kill.”

The volaran shuddered. Uses more Power to fly back.

“From both of us.” He attached two long lines to rings on both sides of Dark Lance’s saddle to the net. “I promise this catch will feel no heavier than a pouch of silver coins. And I’ll buy a better net. There’s zhiv to be made in selling hides. The demand for slayer and render hide has gone up from the City States and Shud.”

Dark Lance snorted, then looked away. We last.

Marrec looked around. His volaran was right. Everyone else was gone. An atavistic tingle slithered down his spine. The sun was setting and they’d be lucky to be back at the Castle before dark. He tested his reserves and found them acceptable for the flight. That was a relief. Not everyone had taken their kills. The Marshalls and wealthier nobles who had paying estates didn’t need the extra zhiv and only claimed trophies they wanted mounted. A whole soul-sucker was a few strides away…. He snorted in disgust at the idea of becoming a scavenger…but he wanted to better his lot in life. Still, his net was full and his Power limited.

And night threatened. There was no local landowner so far north to offer hospitality. Died out long ago, just as had Marrec’s parents and the rest of his village. His memories of that massacre were blessedly vague. Again he shivered, then the light dimmed just enough for the boundary line to brighten the evening and he was comforted.

The ancient fence posts that had begun failing a couple of years ago were now being replaced. Everyone now knew how, and how to energize the boundary line from one fence post to the next. This bit of land was secure.

That didn’t mean he wanted to hang around. “Let’s go home.”

Home, echoed Dark Lance wistfully. To Marrec’s relief he saw the image of the Castle stables in the volaran’s mind, instead of Volaran Valley. Thank the Song.

An embarrassed Thunder took off, with a brief telepathic, I must report on our ride together. Huh. Calli rolled her shoulders and fell into a standard analysis of her performance. The flight had been magnificent. She’d bonded with the volaran more than with the simple empathy she’d felt for her lost Spark. They’d been partners, but with her in the lead. She sensed a volaran’s threshold of going “right brain,” acting in panic, was far higher than a horse’s. They must not have had many predators, probably not for a long time.

Marian and Jaquar took Calli to the Map Room on the other side of the courtyard. Something in the way people referred to the room jittered her nerves so she thought of it in capital letters. When they reached the door, she noted incised golden letters in curlicued words which she couldn’t read. More and more this was seeming less a dream, more like an alternate reality, but how could she believe that?

Jaquar opened the door and held it. She stepped in to see a topographical map as large as a California king bedsheet angled before her, looking like no country she’d ever seen before. And it was animated. Bright yellow-white dots pulsed fast, other dots, smaller and yellower, blinked slower.

Marian marched up to the map and touched the largest island off the western coast. “This is where Jaquar and I, and my mentor, Bossgond, live.” She indicated a small castle in the middle of the map. “This is where we are now.”

Calli gulped.

Jaquar pointed to the lights Calli had noticed. “This is the magical northern boundary, Power strung between the fence posts—” he tapped the lights “—to keep the horrors out.”

Nape prickling, Calli took a few steps closer. Her mouth had dried. She swept a tongue over her lips. “There are gaps.”

“Indeed,” Jaquar said. “The old fence posts are failing. Only recently have we been able to replace them—”

“Alexa’s task,” Marian interrupted, her dark blue eyes serious.

“Alexa’s task.” Calli cleared her throat. “And yours?”

Marian shrugged. “I had a couple. The Marshalls hid the fact that the fence posts were failing and the monsters were invading easily and in greater numbers. This splintered already distant communities within the culture.” She gestured to herself and Jaquar, indicating their golden headbands. “Such as the Circlets of the Tower Community.”

“And most especially divided the Chevaliers from the Marshalls,” Jaquar said. “Alexa was Summoned for the Marshalls, Marian for the Sorcerers and Sorceresses, and you for the Chevaliers.” He took his wife’s hand and kissed her fingers. “Marian has done a brilliant job of mending the breach between the Marshalls and Tower…as well as being an ambassador from the Tower Community to others. They trust us now.”

“As much as less magical people trust the most magical,” Marian said with a wry smile.

A hum came from the map and both Marian and Jaquar turned back to it. “Ah,” said Jaquar. He tapped a spot on the border where bright flashes came. “The battle is over and the Marshalls and Chevaliers are returning.” He let out a big sigh. “We lost no one and there’s a new fence post. The border is strengthened to the next post, so we killed some horrors.” He eyed the map critically. “No larger monsters made it very far into Lladrana.”

That was the second time Calli had heard “monsters.” She straightened her shoulders. “Guess that’s what I’m supposed to do, right, kill monsters? Maybe stop the invasion?”

Marian’s forehead creased. “Since the volarans disappeared and only returned after you were Summoned, it can be extrapolated that not only will you mend the divisiveness within the Chevalier community, and their distrust of the Marshalls, but also—um—speak on behalf of the volarans to everyone, particularly those who fly on—with—them.”

Calli blinked as she unraveled that sentence. She wished Marian had spoon-fed it to her in little bites.

But maybe she was just in an elaborate dream. Maybe a coma. Damn! Not more medical bills.

Jaquar’s penetrating stare pulled her from her thoughts. “But the Chevaliers fly to battle. They are our—” he frowned as if searching for a word “—knights. They would expect you to fly, train and fight with them.”

Marian put an arm around her and squeezed, a small smile on her lips as they met each other’s gaze. “I know it’s difficult to believe you’re on another world, let alone understand what’s going on in a few short hours.”

Rubbing her temples, Calli didn’t answer—but something else was telling her she might not be in a dream. “Is there a toilet around here?”

The Circlets smiled. Marian said, “We don’t know the Castle well, there’s one in Alexa’s guest suite and in the Circlets’ Apartments, both in the Keep.” She cleared her throat. “You’ll be staying there tonight. The medica recommended you be close, and both Alexa and I would like to talk to you.”

Indoctrinate her. “I’m not staying.” If she was really here. Still, her bladder was full…but she’d had dreams about that, too.

“It took all the Marshalls and the Chevaliers to bring you here. How do you think you’ll get back?” asked Jaquar.

Calli could feel her expression set into pure stubbornness. She didn’t care.

What could these dream people do to hurt her? She shifted. She didn’t want to know, but confidence and fearlessness were as important in relation to people as they were to horses. “I don’t know, but I’ll think of something.” A thought struck and her smile widened. Horses didn’t lie in any of their body language and she believed volarans couldn’t either. “And I can double-check anything you tell me with the volarans, can’t I?”

Jaquar’s eyes twinkled. “That you can.”

“I promise you I won’t ever lie to you,” Marian said. Her aura throbbed with what Calli sensed was pure truth.

“Okay,” Calli said.

“On my word of honor,” Marian said.

Calli nodded. “Right.” She turned to the door.

“One moment,” Jaquar said. An extra lilt in his voice caught Calli’s attention. He sure was learning English quickly. She glanced at him.

“Behold,” he said.

Marian coughed.

He waved and huge chunks of the map went golden yellow. “These are the unoccupied and unclaimed estates of Lladrana. Many are very prosperous. You will be allowed your choice.”

Breath caught in her chest, Calli stared. Land of her own. Everything in the mountains of the north seemed empty, but so did a bunch of other places in the real “green” part of the land. Big pieces of land.

Walking to the map, Marian pointed. “This is where Alexa and Bastien live. Her estate was vacant. She’s very wealthy now. As am I.”

“Money’s not everything,” Calli muttered.

“Alexa wanted a real home. She has that, and a man she loves. I have a husband and a tower I built myself with magic. I have great magical ability—Power. I’m free to research whatever I want, whenever I want and I’ll be founding a school in the future.

“What do you want? I’m sure whatever it is, we can accommodate you,” Marian asked.

They couldn’t give her children. No one could do that. Calli wanted to whirl on her heel and walk away, but her gaze was still stuck to the map. She wanted a spread of her own…and look at all that land! Part of her dream could come true. But land was the least of what she truly wanted. She wanted family. And her family, what there was of it, was back on Earth and had rejected her.

Now the watery gob in her throat was more from sadness than surprise and dazzled greed. “I gotta pee,” she said. She headed out the door and across the courtyard to the keep building. The Circlets paced her.

“What’s your vocation?” Marian asked and Calli knew she meant it in the widest sense of the word, what job really drew her.

With a lift of her chin, she replied, “I’m a horse trainer.” She’d meant to be. When she returned to Colorado, she would find a way to make that dream come true.

Marian smiled. “I bet you’re more of a ‘horse whisperer.’ But you can do that here. And I’m sure volarans need to be trained, too.” Marian waved a hand. “Or people and volarans need to learn how to partner each other better.” She glanced back at the Map Room. “To better vanquish the Dark. The Marshalls and Chevaliers and Circlets are working on that.” Marian looked at Jaquar. He lifted and dropped a shoulder. Calli smiled. Obviously academics. Didn’t look at all like nerds or geeks or whatever, but they sure were more interested in more brainy things than physical.

“The volarans talk to some others, too, most primarily Bastien. He’ll know what Chevalier-Volaran needs are,” Marian said.

A few minutes later, Calli was checking out the large round guest suite in Alexa’s tower. There was a toilet, one of the old kind with the tank on the top, and a shower. She yearned for the shower but wasn’t about to take her clothes off. The way this day was going, anything could happen and she wasn’t about to be naked and vulnerable if it did.

When she returned to the main room, the Circlets smiled at her with identical gleams in their eyes and Calli didn’t like it. Especially when she saw Jaquar shaking a dark purple bottle about two inches high. “What’s that?”

“The language potion,” they said in unison.

“Nope.”

Jaquar sent her a winning smile. “You see how it worked for me.”

“Like a charm,” Marian said.

“Nope.” Calli wanted to slip her hands in her pockets but thought she should keep her hands free.

“You could try just one drop,” Marian said. “That would be temporary.”

Again shaking the bottle, Jaquar said, “There’s about three months’ worth of potion in here. The magical properties fade with time, so you learn the language gradually. After three months, you should know Lladranan.”

“So you know English now, but if you don’t use the language every day, it will fade away?” asked Calli, intrigued.

Jaquar frowned as if he didn’t like the idea of losing a skill. “True.”

“Pillow talk,” Marian said. “And if you marry a Lladranan and bond with him mind to mind, you also learn the language, the more, ah, intimate you are.”

“Many pathways are opened during sex.” Jaquar grinned again.

That sounded even more frightening. “Absolutely not.” Calli smiled herself. “I’m not convinced this isn’t a dream.” She looked around at the color of the furnishings. “Though there’s more purple than usual in my dreams.”

“That’s the heraldic color assigned to Exotiques, especially Marshalls. Alexa’s suite was mostly purple, she’s switched out a lot of furniture from there to here.”

“Purple is not my color,” Calli said.

At that moment a triangle rang. Calli sensed an inrush of bright and healthy volaran minds.

“The Marshalls and Chevaliers have returned!” Marian said. Jaquar stood and pocketed the bottle.

Calli ran to the window where she’d caught sight of beating wings. The whole army swooped down to the landing field out of her sight.

I am here, too, Thunder called.

Calli exited the opulent rooms without a backward look, running down the tower stairs to the outside door. She flung it open only to face the tall hedges of a maze.

6

A young woman in her mid-twenties, dressed in buff-colored Chevalier leathers, but obviously not a fighter, hovered between the hedges. Shifting from foot to foot, she smiled and bowed to Calli, then pressing her fingers to her chest, she said, “Seeva Hallard.”

Calli nodded, probably a relation to Lady Hallard, daughter maybe. “Hey, Seeva.”

Seeva swept a hand toward the interior of the maze and said something in the French-like language. Once again the strangeness of this place struck Calli, but when the woman took off through the maze, Calli followed. It took longer to wend their way through than Calli anticipated. Impatience to see a lot of volarans again nibbled at her. She let her mind reach and knew all the winged horses were fine. Thank God.

Finally she and Seeva made it to the field, and all the volarans, even those being led away by grooms, stopped and turned to Calli.

Thunder pranced up to her. His hide rippled. Grooming time. The strong scent of amber rose from him. Volaran sweat, Calli guessed.

I’m sure, she replied to him.

I would like a rubdown.

He was demanding, but Calli felt indulgent. “I can do that,” Calli said, sending images of standard grooming. He whickered.

Three people separated themselves from the rest and walked toward her—Alexa, Bastien and the older Chevalier who Calli had heard was the “representative to the Marshalls.” She wore yellow and gray. Her tunic, which Calli recalled as being pristine, was stained and torn. Yeah, she’d been fighting.

Against monsters that Calli hadn’t seen. Yet.

The woman shot orders to Seeva, who ran across the landing field. Calli recalled the older woman’s name was Hallard. Lady Hallard. If Calli remained in this dream, would she get a title, too?

“Exotique,” Lady Hallard said with a little bow.

Oh, she already had a sort of title. Exotique Calli. Exotique Alexa. Exotique Marian—Calli had heard all three of them called that. Women from Earth.

Lady Hallard sent a stream of rapid-fire words to Alexa, who winced and kept nodding, a pained smile on her face. Then Alexa bowed to Lady Hallard, answered in a mild voice and talked a while.

After she ended, Lady Hallard nodded, bowed again to Calli and strode away, leaving her volaran to grooms. Calli saw several people who wore her colors on an armband bow to her. The older woman waved casually to them.

Bastien shook his head. Alexa sighed. “She said that she was told Thunder gave you a good report and she wants you to be integrated into the Chevaliers’ ranks as soon as possible. And you shouldn’t be up at the Marshalls’ keep.” Now Alexa’s smile-grimace was aimed at Calli, who wanted to pay more attention to all the volarans inching closer to ring them. The flying horses still seemed as fascinated with her as she was with them.

“I insisted that you stay in my tower tonight,” Alexa said.

“All right. I need to groom Thunder,” Calli said.

“Fine.” Alexa rubbed her gauntleted hands together. “Calli, do you want Marian and me to lay all this out at once or drop it on you in little bits?”

Calli sent Alexa a crooked smile as she stroked the exquisite softness of Thunder’s near wing. “I think this is all a dream and I’ll wake up in my own bed tomorrow morning.”

“Not going to happen,” Alexa said.

Bastien spoke and Alexa nodded again, this time with enthusiasm. “The more you bond with the volarans, the more you are physically aware of this world—like by grooming Thunder—the more you’ll believe you’re here. So Bastien’ll take you to the stables and teach you. Later we’ll eat in my tower with Marian and Jaquar.”

“Jaquar speaks English.”

“What?”

“They made a potion—”

“Of course they did,” Alexa said.

“—and he tried it out. So he can speak English.”

Alexa looked up at Calli. “Wonder how that works.”

“Me, too.”

Bastien gently jostled Alexa aside and offered his arm to Calli. She didn’t need it this time. She made a lead-theway gesture.

He grabbed Alexa and kissed her hard, patted her butt and sent her off toward the maze. Apparently she didn’t groom volarans. But then, she didn’t ride them by herself, either. Interesting.

Bastien sent a loud mental message that showed the stables. Once again the volarans began to move to the large building at the opposite end of the Landing Field. Calli blinked. Was that really the stables? It was huge. Big enough to house every volaran here, for sure.

They walked through a corridor of volarans, with people standing behind the winged horses, staring. The folks wore a mixture of expressions. Everything from irritation and resentment to…awe? She didn’t want to be awe inspiring.

As Calli passed, she felt soft muzzles sliding against her, sniffing. Once again overwhelming approval came as she sensed the volarans’ feelings. She smelled wonderful. Different. She’d flown with Thunder and smelled of him, too, and the mixture was lovely. She smelled sweet.

Calli stopped. Sweet?

Bastien chuckled, as if he heard the volarans. “Ayes,” he said, nodding. “Doose.”

She didn’t think of herself as sweet. Tough, practical, with horse sense, but not sweet.

Sweet. Thunder pranced by her side. I will get the best stall, with plenty of wing space.

She stared at him, turned to Bastien. Thunder turned his head, too, and squinted at Bastien.

Bastien grinned, showing flashing white teeth. Though he smelled of man and volaran sweat, he looked none the worse for battle…except there was dark, nasty goo on his right sleeve. He nodded. “Ayes.” He held up one index finger. “Calli.” Then he held up the other forefinger. “Thunder.” He linked them.

Calli frowned and used wide hand gestures. “Why does Thunder get the best stall?” She said it loudly and flushed. As if speaking loudly would make someone understand your language. She lifted her shoulders high and spread her palms up.

Bastien just winked and kept walking. Thunder said, Because I partner with you, I am the most important volaran.

That was a little scary. She caught up with Bastien and entered the most luxurious stables she’d ever seen, but didn’t have time to linger because of the press of volarans and Chevaliers behind her.

Babble and grooming sounds rose throughout the stables as the Marshalls and Chevaliers spent time with their volarans. Great waves of relief and love blanketed the big building. No sooner had Calli entered the large stall with Thunder and Bastien than the strikingly handsome Chevalier she’d seen during her healing leaned over the stall’s half door.

“Salut, Bastien,” he said, looking at her.

Bastien snorted. “Salut, Faucon.”

Smiling, Faucon said, “Prie introd moi?”

With a tilt of his head, Bastien replied. To her surprise, Calli found a wash of brotherly love coming her way from him. It startled and touched her. How could he like her so soon?

Because Thunder told Alexa and me of your flight and Alexa likes you. Bastien spoke more in Equine and images—Thunder’s idea of their flight, Alexa with her arm around Calli—but Calli got it. She turned to the back of the stall and blinked rapidly. The outpouring of feeling toward her today was nothing she’d ever experienced. Even when her fans at the rodeo yelled or clapped, it was nothing compared to this. This warmth sent to her was personal, based more on who she was than what she was…an Exotique. The Chevalier Exotique.

There was a brief conversation, with Bastien smiling but contrary, and the handsome man moved on with irritation in his eyes and a smile on his lips.

Then Bastien and Calli worked together. She had no trouble recognizing the standard implements hanging from the stall sides, but when she took them down, she found them a little different. The brushes were made of something she didn’t recognize—something for the feather-hide of the volarans. There was also a faint sheen on the fine bristles—oil for the feathers. Furthermore, the tools tingled in her hands. Magic.

Grooming the horse part of Thunder went easily. They paid special attention to the hide under the wings. Thunder’s mind lightly touched both hers and Bastien’s and he helped her.

The stall was much wider than usual and she found out why when Thunder moved to one side and stretched out a wing. Calli looked at it nervously. Shouldn’t he be able to clean them himself?

Thunder snorted. You.

Bastien took down a couple of fancy brushes and they flared in his hands—more magic. With exaggerated motions he taught Calli to groom the wings. He started with the undersides and moved with incredible gentleness from where the wings attached, outward to the tips of the feathers. Watching closely, Calli wasn’t sure that the brush actually touched the feathers at all, more like some sort of aura or field. Or something. She saw, she felt, but she didn’t have the words to describe.

Yet there was a connection here, mind to mind with Thunder. Working with her hands, the brush, stroking the winged horse, made this dream seem all too real. Thunder’s muscles flexed under her fingers. The stable was full of odors—volaran sweat, human sweat and an occasional whiff of something Calli thought might be volaran shit. Not too smelly for her, but then, horse shit didn’t bother her much, either.

By the time Marrec had sold his kill to an assayer south of Castleton and flown back to the Castle, he and Dark Lance were exhausted.

Don’t like this long day. Dark Lance blew out a breath.

“I don’t, either, but we must plan for the future.” If he lived long enough to have a future. One thing was certain, his bargaining skills were too damn rusty. He should have gotten more for his haul.

He’d been stuck in a rut, living the life of a soldier attached to a Lady, with no home, no land of his own. Had somehow lost that dream. Had been spending his pay and not always collecting his kills, and taking those he had claimed to the Castle Assayer who paid a lower price. “We’ll fight until we have a stake good enough for land of our own. You’d like your own land, right?”

Yes, but Castle is good. Walking toward the stables, Dark Lance whuffled in Marrec’s hair. Back.

“Yes,” Marrec said. “Thank you for coming back.”

Warm. Good food. My place low in Volaran Valley herd. Mares no look at me. My place with you high.

“The highest. And I’ll find a mare in season for you.” Any vow was worth having his volaran stay. Dark Lance had become his highest priority.

Too big and ugly in Volaran Valley herd.

Surprised, Marrec stopped and looked at his steed. He was large for a volaran, but any human would consider him a good-looking flying horse. His hide and wings were solid black, with each wing feather outlined in silver. He stroked Dark Lance’s neck. “You are beautiful.”

Humans think so. Not volarans. He rolled his dark eyes and they looked sly. You will show me to the lady of volarans and she will think me beautiful. Then I will get higher place here. And a mare.

Marrec laughed shortly. Like master, like volaran. He was considering ways to gain status and wealth himself. “I’ll do that.” He inhaled deeply. “I’ll introduce you to the Exotique, but she will be fighting, too.” If she really was for the Chevaliers.

Lady inside stables with Thunder and Bastien. Show me now! Dark Lance’s tone had taken on a weary stubbornness, warning Marrec it would be wise to agree.

He wanted another look at her anyway, that incredible hair, those blue eyes. Two of the Exotiques had blue eyes. How common was that? Faint curiosity about the Exotique Terre tickled his mind. “Very well.” But he needed to press his point one more time. “The best way for us to get you a mare is to take more chances for honor on the battlefield.”

Dark Lance shivered, but finally said, I trust you. We fight well. We will get higher place.

So it hadn’t escaped the volaran’s notice that Marrec wasn’t exactly the alpha of his herd, either.

“Yes.” Somehow, yes.

Clop, clop, clop.

Latecomers were entering the stable. When they reached Thunder’s stall, a volaran stopped and a beautiful horse head looked at her. He lifted a wing and Calli’s breath caught at his loveliness. He appeared to be night made tangible—midnight dark edged with moonlight.

Thunder whickered. Dark Lance. An image of a sword blade etched with a streaking volaran came to Calli’s mind.

Dark Lance whinnied and dipped his head to her. Come see me. His voice was deeper than Thunder’s.

Though Thunder’s mind hummed with a little irritation, he sidestepped so Calli had room enough to pass him and Bastien. Gently she touched the soft nose, stroked Dark Lance.

Beautiful Lady. The volaran’s deep voice resonated in her mind.

“Ayes,” said the man who joined the winged horse, his large, callused hand resting on Dark Lance’s neck.

“Salut, Marrec,” Bastien said, moving to stand beside Calli.

“Salut, Bastien.” His gaze went to her. “Salut, Dama.” He nodded.

She recognized another Chevalier who’d been in the healing room when she’d awakened. His leathers were old, with fine cracks and several stains. He wore an armband of yellow and gray—Lady Hallard’s colors. His face was bony, with deep-set eyes, a strong jaw and firm lips. Beneath his golden complexion was a gray tinge that spoke of exhaustion, though nothing else did about this tough, lean man. He was taller than Bastien and the other man who’d visited.

“Salut,” she said.

He turned his head fully to her and she saw more than weariness. Two round circles of red raised bumps showed on his far cheek.

Bastien whistled, reached into his pocket and pulled out a tube, offered it to Marrec.

For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, then his scarred fingers took the tube. He ducked his head to Bastien. “Merci.”

Beautiful Lady. Dark Lance tossed his head. Beautiful Dark Lance.

Calli and Bastien laughed and Marrec’s smile was quick and easy, lighting his serious expression. He ran a hand down his volaran’s neck in a loving stroke that Calli knew was habitual.

Avanser. He gestured to the end of the stables. Calli heard the instruction to Dark Lance easily. The mind-tone was as caring as his fingers had been. Man and volaran moved down the stable corridor.

Calli frowned. She’d noticed that the stalls got incrementally smaller down the line and Dark Lance was larger than Thunder. She asked Thunder a question in Equine that was becoming easier with each use.

Low status, replied Thunder with a hint of arrogance.

Since he included both man and volaran in the image, Calli figured the term applied to both.

Bastien tapped her on the shoulder and indicated feed sacks and a trough at the back of the stall. As she helped him mix Thunder’s dinner, Calli wondered about rank and status and contrasted the clothing and bearing of Marrec with Faucon.

Faucon was a noble, she was sure. He’d worn finer-grained leathers that looked newer, and heavier chain mail. His leathers had been dyed, Marrec’s had just been cured. Faucon had not walked with a winged horse. Probably had someone else tending it. Calli smiled. His mistake.

A small whirlwind entered the stable, Alexa, followed by the two amused Circlets. The little Marshall stomped up to the stall door. “What’s keeping you?” she asked, and repeated it in Lladranan.

Bastien started to answer, but she cut him off, addressing Calli. “We have a lot to cover, especially since Lady Hallard insists that we tell you they want you married tomorrow evening.”

The lulling comfort of being around volarans vanished in an instant. Warning bells rang in Calli’s head. “What did you say?”

7

Marian stepped up to the stall door, tsking at Alexa. “Well, that’s crude.”

Alexa flushed. “I could’ve been cruder.”

“Yes,” said Jaquar. “Why don’t you be? I think I’d like to know some exotique words that might excite my wife.”

Bastien made a protest that included the word Lladranan, and Calli thought he was demanding they speak so he could understand.

Jaquar whipped out the small bottle of language potion he’d offered Calli, jiggled it. Expressions flowed across Bastien’s face: wariness, unwilling fascination. He held up one finger.

More discussion—and negotiating. Calli knew horse trading when she heard it, despite the language. Finally Jaquar frowned, pulled out some big coins—they looked like real gold—and handed them to Bastien. Bastien pocketed the money and stuck out his tongue.

The tiny cork lifted with a little pop. A thread of lavender smoke puffed from the bottle. Bastien’s eyes widened, Alexa stepped closer, and Calli sidled next to Thunder, feeling better with strong, warm hors—volaran flesh at her side.

Jaquar tipped the bottle and a drop of liquid hit Bastien’s tongue. The cork popped back into the bottle. Bastien swallowed.

He slid down against the stall side onto the floor, grabbed his head and moaned.

Calli and Thunder stepped back. She was glad she hadn’t tried the stuff.

Alexa was suddenly in the stall with them, crouched over Bastien. Calli hadn’t seen her move. Had she jumped? The stall door came nearly to Alexa’s shoulders. Surely not.

Jaquar looked at Calli and Thunder. “I’m opening the door to retrieve and examine Bastien.”

Keeping a hand on Thunder, who was only slightly disturbed, Calli nodded. Her mind was with Thunder’s. She could keep him from fear.

The door opened soundlessly, and Jaquar, Alexa and Marian dragged Bastien out. He tried to move himself.

With a whoosh, a large hawk swooped into the stables. It lit on Bastien’s head.

“She says it’s his wild magic that makes him react so,” Alexa said.

She? Who?

Thunder stepped forward until he was nearly out of his stall and into the crowded corridor. Feycoocu.

“Feycoocu?” Calli asked.

“A magical shape-shifting being,” Marian said absently.

Oh. Of course.

The hawk pecked Bastien on the head. He yelped and grabbed at it. It flew away. Thunder followed it with his gaze. I would like to talk to the feycoocu.

Calli decided she wouldn’t. The day was rapidly becoming overwhelming with the huge input of information.

Bastien shook his head and stood, helped by the other three. “Gonna lie down,” he said in heavily slurred English. “Bed.”

“Let’s get you there,” Jaquar said.

Bastien rubbed his temples. “Horrible headache. When did you say this would wear off?”

“Always too reckless for your own good,” Alexa scolded.

He closed his eyes. “Oh, that’s bad. Can be nagged at in two languages. No. I don’t like this.”

Jaquar said, “I’ll get him back to your suite, Alexa. You two should brief Calli on what she needs to know about the Summoning, the Choosing and Bonding ceremony, and the Snap.”

None of that sounded good to Calli. But one thing she knew, she wasn’t drinking any potion.

We made good impression, Dark Lance said smugly.

Marrec had used the last of his energy and Power to groom every inch of his volaran, murmuring compliments with each stroke. He didn’t want Dark Lance to ever leave again. Now he leaned against his mount, breathing in musky fragrance and thanking the Song that Dark Lance was back.

All around him other Chevaliers, even Marshalls, lingered, spending more time with their volarans. Especially those who could mind-speak with their mounts, even if only a few images. Especially those who only had one volaran. Those like him.

He shuddered again at the remembrance of loss. Not just of his best companion, but of his entire future. He did well enough with horses, but didn’t own any, didn’t know if he cared to. He’d have been penniless, with no decent way to support himself, if Dark Lance hadn’t returned. He hadn’t truly faced that fact until the volaran was gone.

One of the female Chevaliers sobbed, and Marrec had to gulp hard.

Cheek stings.

“What!” Marrec straightened, went to Dark Lance’s head.

Yours.

“Oh. Yes.” He pulled out the tube Bastien had given him, opened it and dabbed healing cream on his face. He chanted one chorus of a spell and the hurt diminished. That was different, too. Usually it would have taken three verses to repair the light soul-sucker wounds. He rubbed his hand over his cheek. No bumps.

More Power.

“Yes.”

More Power means more status.

“I hope so.” He cleared his throat and asked what he’d heard whispered in many stalls around him. Will you go away again?

No. Head Stallion called. I obeyed. Back here now.

“Thank you,” Marrec repeated.

We together.

“Yes.” He wanted to ask why the volarans had left and why they’d returned, hear the answers for himself, but Dark Lance’s mind-tone had been forbidding.

Rustling came from several stalls. Some of the Chevaliers were going to sleep with their volarans. Because they were afraid the winged horses would fly away again? He was torn, he wanted to stay, for the sheer comfort of Dark Lance’s presence. But if he did, he’d show the volaran he didn’t trust him.

After one last rub, Marrec left. He had to tally up his zhiv, plan for the future. See how long it would take to accumulate enough to buy a small piece of land in the north.

The tasty dinner Calli was tucking into seemed real, too. So far the normal things her senses understood—grooming, eating, peeing, made what she was experiencing real. But the strange events outweighed them. Falling through the crystal, waking up healed, moving without pain after a nap, hearing folks speak a different language.

Flying on a winged horse.

That had been the best.

As the plates were whisked away by Alexa’s serving woman, Calli studied her fork.

“We believe there’s always been sharing between our culture and Lladrana,” Marian said.

“Yes,” Alexa said, wiping her mouth with her napkin. “There have been Exotiques Summoned before, but not for a century.”

“I’m working on a Lorebook,” Marian said. “That’s what they call their reference volumes here. Lorebook on building Towers. Lorebook of Community Rules.” She made a face. “Before I started my own work, the Lorebook of Exotiques was a short one-page list.”

Alexa grunted. When Calli met her eyes, the Marshall held her gaze and said, “Lorebook on Summoning. Lorebook on Monsters.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Calli said. “To fight monsters.”

“That’s why we’re all here,” Marian said. “We were Summoned here by the Marshalls, and you by the Marshalls and Chevaliers, because the Song said we could vanquish the invading Dark. The dimensional corridor that links Earth and Lladrana is close. We deduce that there will be six of us Summoned.”

“So that’s the Summoning. Understand?” Alexa asked.

“Why me?” Calli asked.

Marian answered, “The Chevaliers had specifications of the qualities that they wanted in their Exotique, particularly after the volarans left. The Summoning would only be heard by a person who matched their needs—you.”

Alexa said, “During the Summoning ceremony, the Song is sent back in time on Earth to find and prepare a person to come to Lladrana.” She waved a hand. “Don’t suppose you heard chants and chimes and a gong over the last month, did you?”

Calli fell back against the plush dining-room chair.

“Thought so.” Alexa smiled.

“So you have all the qualities the Chevaliers wanted—someone the volarans would love, courage, determination.” Marian waved a hand. “You’re flexible in mind to accept the Summoning, probably don’t have deep emotional ties to Earth—” Calli kept her mouth shut “—or would consider staying permanently in Lladrana.”

“Fighting monsters, I don’t think so.” Calli crossed her arms. “Assuming I’m not in a coma from banging my head against that crystal.”

“What crystal?” Marian started.

“Stay on topic,” Alexa said.

Alexa stood. Her deliberate movements kept Calli watching her. She walked to the far corner of the room, where the wall separating the bathroom met the curving outer wall of the tower. Slowly she pulled her baton from her sheath. Green jade glowed above and below her fingers. The top of the wand had sculpted bronze flames. Nerves jittered under Calli’s skin.

“Calli, call it to you.”

Her breath stuck in her chest. “What?”

“Want the baton in your hand. Feel it in your hand. Reach out and say, ‘Baton!’”

“I don’t think—”

Coward. It came in her mind. In stereo. Alexa and Marian.

“You can do it,” Marian said.

“Why would I want to?” But she rose slowly and faced Alexa.

“Why not?” Alexa’s smile dared her. “Especially if it’s only a coma-dream.”

Marian frowned. “I’m not sure people in comas dre—”

“On topic, Marian.”

The atmosphere of the room became heavy and charged. It wasn’t only Alexa’s and Marian’s minds brushing hers, but Thunder’s and other volarans’, some people’s linked to them, too. All added to the anticipatory pressure around her.

“Fine. Baton, come!” Calli ordered.

It flew across the room and slapped into her open hand, stinging. And everything took on a solid reality that she couldn’t deny, as if her mind, her body, completely focused. The baton belonged to Alexa, vibrated like Alexa, but was real and solid in Calli’s hands. And magical. There was a force within it that compelled her to believe, to face the fact that she was no longer in Colorado, on Earth, like a door slamming shut behind her.

New place, new rules.

Before her eyes the metal flames atop the stick bloomed into real fire. She dropped it. Instead of hitting the ground, it shot back to Alexa, who sheathed it at her left hip. “There, you see? You have great magic. That’s another reason you’re here. We all have great magic. Cool, huh?”

“Magic,” Calli repeated.

Marian joined her. “Look.” She pulled a finger-length wand from her sleeve. Flicked it, it became larger, flipped it in her hand and flicked it again and the wand elongated into a walking staff. Calli’s mouth fell open.

“We all have magic here,” Marian repeated. “We have magic on Earth, too, it’s just very hard to access it. Earth is also a more visual culture. The Songs can’t be heard or Sung as easily.”

Alexa went to a love seat, sat and crossed her ankles. “I wouldn’t know. I didn’t return to Earth when the Snap came.”

Calli’s knees went weak and she crumpled into her chair. There was another one of those strange phrases.

At that moment a white, long-haired cat strolled in from the bathroom. Calli stared. She could have sworn the door was shut.

“A cat from my past. Actually, my magical shape-shifting feycoocu companion.” Alexa grimaced. “A cat. I hate when this happens. You get nothing out of a cat.”

Marian sighed.

The cat went up to Alexa, stropped her ankles and began a purr that only increased as it leaped onto Calli’s lap. It turned around a few times and settled. Calli found herself petting it. Its fur was as soft as volaran feathers, and she felt oddly comforted. “The Snap?” She managed a squeak.

Drawing up a chair next to Calli, Marian said, “At some point in time, Mother Earth will call to you, strongly enough to pull you back home. You’ll have a choice to stay or go.”

“When?”

“No one knows,” Marian said. “There isn’t enough data for a hypothesis. Perhaps after you experience it…”

Alexa said, “We do know that time passes the same here as on Earth. If you’re here for, say, three months, the same amount of time has transpired in Colorado.”

“The ranch!” She’d lose the ranch. Her dad would think she’d just walked away. Her fingers tightened in the cat fur. The feline grumbled.

“Sorry.”

The cat jumped down and went to sit in the middle of the floor and groom.

Calli wouldn’t walk away from the ranch, but her dad would think her cowardly enough to do so, dammit.

Both the women appeared sympathetic.

“The shortest amount of time before the Snap came was two weeks, the longest was seven years and three months, the average is about two months,” Marian said.

Two months.

Alexa smiled. “We have examples of the Bonding ceremony—” she waved at Marian “—and the Choosing and Bonding ceremony, an older Marshall Pair, coming later.”

“This is the marriage thing?” Calli asked, attention diverted from her dad and the ranch.

“Yeah.”

“I’d like coffee,” Calli said, going to the sideboard. She made the drink dark and sweet.

Alexa cleared her throat and sat, but didn’t relax. “You know that the Chevaliers want you to stay. It’s easier for a person to stay if you’re paired or bonded—”

“Involved with someone,” Marian said, “but to be precise, they don’t have just a Pairing ceremony in mind.” She tilted her head. “I think a Pairing would correspond to an affair and engagement.”

“Yeah,” Alexa said. “They want you to agree to a coeurdechain, which is like soul melding or something.”

Marian chuckled and her eyes went dreamy. “It’s more.”

“But they want a quick marriage, and to do that, they’re willing to use, uh—” She threw a look at Marian.

“Another magical ritual,” Marian said. “I blood-bonded with my tutor, and also with Alexa. Then Jaquar and I decided we wanted the whole deal, minds, souls, bodies.”

“Huh!” Calli said.

“The upside is that we’re very close. Neither of us are lonely. We’re partners in the truest sense of the word.”

“The downside?” Calli asked.

“We’ll die at the same time,” Marian said.

Alexa stood and paced the room, hand on her baton. Finally she turned and skewered Calli with a gaze. “You want to be a horse-volaran trainer. That’s doable. You want land. That’s easy, too. But there must be something more, some bigger reason that the Song resonated with you and called you and made you a perfect person for Summoning. An emotional reason. What do you really want, Calli?”

The demand had words slipping from her mouth, “To be loved.” She had to look away from the two very beloved women while heat painted her cheeks, her neck, even her ears hidden under her hair. Hell, she hadn’t blushed in a long, long time, and now she had twice in one day. She decided to continue with brutal honesty. “And to have a family of my own. Children of my own.” Pretending not to see the glance exchanged between the other two, she upended her mug, drank and set the mug aside. “And even Lladrana and all its medicas can’t give me children. The infection from one of the surgeries took my ovaries.”

“It isn’t common that Lladranan and Exotique couples produce children,” Alexa said. “I don’t think Bastien and I will ever have any.”

Calli whipped her gaze to Alexa, then to Marian. “Your guy, Jaquar, he has blue eyes—”

“Yes,” Marian said. “He has some Exotique blood in his lineage. Whose or when, we don’t know.” Her aura spiked green.

“Bastien and I will just have to adopt,” Alexa gave Calli a direct look. “Wouldn’t that be good enough for you? Or being a cowgirl you gotta have the right equipment and bloodlines and breeding and all that jazz?”

No. It was as if a note had echoed throughout her being. She didn’t have to give birth to children of her own. Children who loved her would be enough. Feeling uncomfortably vulnerable, Calli said, “Drop it.”

“If you want pedigree—” Alexa swept a hand around them “—you’re out of luck. You’ve landed in with a motley crew. I don’t know my ancestors, grew up in foster care. Bastien’s a black-and-white, which can mean mentally handicapped, and his father was an asshole.”

“My mother’s a bitch,” said Marian. “My brother’s a jewel, though.” She looked thoughtful. “He came with me…sort of…If you don’t reject the Choosing and Bonding ceremony, he might be right for you. The Song might have led him here for you.”

“She should stick with Faucon Creusse. Noble, rich, sexy and handsome.” Alexa wiggled her brows. “What’s not to like?”

“Tell me about the Claiming and Bonding ceremony,” demanded Calli. She’d backed up against the bar.

“That’s what we were getting at. Magic…Power…the Song, choosing the right guy for you.” Alexa waved her hands.

“You want love?” Marian joined Alexa to face Calli. “What if I told you there’s a surefire way to find the right man for you? Your soul mate?”

Calli’s heart thumped hard. A man who would love her. A man she would love. Was she really ready for that, despite what she yearned for most?

Marian spread her arms wide, and the gesture emphasized the rich robe she wore, the Circlet around her forehead, the expensive surroundings. “What do you want, Calli? True love? There are plenty of Chevaliers ready to bond with you—men and women of like mind with you. Land of your own? You’ll get it.” She laughed a little. “Children? Unfortunately Lladrana is like Earth…there are abandoned children you can make into a family. Volarans? I think you can have as many volarans as you want.”

“They are their own,” Calli protested, but vividly recalled the horse bodies pressing against her.

She’d never be lonely again.

She remembered the Map Room, the unclaimed land.

She thought of Faucon Creusse, all too willing to be her lover at any moment. Already. That was a little scary. He had to want her just because of what she was and not who she was. He didn’t know her.

But this notion was a little tempting, too. A magical ceremony could bring her a guy? Some sort of matchmaking deal? Intriguing. Especially since after her disastrous illusions about her father, she didn’t trust her own judgment worth spit.

She thought of children. With a big ranch, she could have many.

Finally, an image of a flying volaran herd circled in her mind’s eye. Wings of all colors, equine faces looking to her. She could almost hear the wind rush through thousands of feathers.

When she glanced at Marian and Alexa, they were glowing with the golden aura of love. Love given and received with their men. Friendship love between them. They liked her already; could they become good friends? With these women there would be no competition between them, no moving around that meant brief and broken ties, like in the rodeo.

The room wavered before her as if behind a rich haze. She’d be rich and valued and respected and would own land. And love would come into her life.

Grabbing her mug, she filled it again and went to a wing chair. “What about this magical ceremony?”

8

The sound of strumming strings came once. “That’s the doorharp,” Marian said.

Calli remembered seeing something like half an egg slicer mounted on the door.

When the door opened a huge man and much smaller woman entered. Just the sight of their strong, intertwined aura had Calli sitting down on a little sofa, blinking. They brought music with them. It was the strongest tune she’d heard from people, truly a Song with a capital S.

Alexa introduced the two Marshalls as Mace, the arms master, and his wife, Clua, who was a battle strategist.

“You know, Calli, it would be much easier if you took just a drop of the potion,” Marian said, pulling the little bottle from her robe pocket.

Calli wondered if it was the same bottle or if she and Jaquar had concocted a large batch. She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

Silvery laughter came from Clua. Mace stroked his wife’s hair. They were still holding hands. With a kiss on their linked fingers, the woman walked toward Calli, face welcoming, hands outstretched.

Their aura didn’t break apart, but stretched, and in stretching, remained the same deep gold color and thickness. It was as if wherever they went singly, they would still keep the same strong and intimate connection with each other. Awesome.

Automatically, Calli took Clua’s hands.

An image of a calendar flipped pages going back. Years. Calli was swept into the past, experiencing the Choosing ceremony of Clua and Mace.

The first thing she noticed was that she felt woozy, dizzy. A hand—her hand?—passed a goblet to someone and she noticed an aftertaste in her mouth. Another emotion swept her, anticipation at the Choosing, then, as she looked around a large room with stone walls—her Power amplified. Her eyes were sharper, her eardrums nearly exploding with the loud tangle of personal Songs.

She looked down at a table at a variety of items. A beret—nothing Calli had seen so far in this world, old-fashioned?—a quill pen, a book, a small carved volaran, a locket, a chain with keys, a brooch. She touched each and received impressions of the person who’d placed it on the table. Each time, she saw a colored link connecting the person to the object. Sometimes that connection was a thread, sometimes a cord. Once a chain. Just as the melodies she heard varied in strength and prettiness—a whisper of a tune too simple to please; a loud, intricately layered Song that pulled at her, awakened feelings deep in her core.

Her hand hovered over a locket. An oblong thing of gold, inset with black with a diamond in the center. She brushed her fingers across it and felt a surge of desire, longing, be- longing from it. Looking up, she saw a huge young man dressed in a short velvet robe and tights, arms crossed, staring at her. She couldn’t look away.

He was too big, too tough, too sophisticated for her.

Forcing herself to withdraw her fingers, she turned to the other tokens.

Nothing felt as right as the locket.

Time telescoped and Calli was able to distance herself a bit from the experience and feel the woman’s fingers clamped over hers in the here and now.

She watched as if hovering outside of herself—like she’d done in a couple of the surgeries—while Clua tested each item time and again, then finally listened to the rush of her blood and heart and bone and took the locket.

A shout of celebration rose from many voices—her family—and Mace literally leaped over people to claim her.

Clua let go of Calli’s hands. Calli staggered back to sink onto the sofa. “Oh. My. God,” she said, even as she heard the Marshalls leaving, Clua chuckling.

“Wow,” said Marian, sitting beside her. “Tell us what happened. Magical ritual, right? From what I can tell, I don’t think Clua ever wrote down the story for the Lorebook of Choosing and Bonding. She hadn’t ever met Mace before, that I have heard. But for the record, I’ll need every detail from you!”

“Marian, shut up,” said Alexa, wriggling in on Calli’s other side. It was a tight fit. Alexa stroked her back and the affectionate caress seemed to draw the stunning magic from Calli until she breathed steadily again. “Calli, you need to watch out how you touch people,” Alexa said.

“Tell me about it.”

“Sometimes they don’t mean to sucker punch you, sometimes they do, but we’ve all had an experience like that.”

Marian said, “I still want to hear every detail. What were the circumstances? Did the Choosing work? Well, duh! Obviously. How did it work? Was the magic very strong?”

“Yeah,” Calli said, shaking off the last of the weird feeling that she was living two lives in two different times. She rubbed her face, then dropped her hands and straightened to glare at Marian. “I’ll be drugged!”

“I promise you, you’ll be fine,” Marian soothed. She went to a bookshelf and curved her fingers around empty air, hummed a few notes. A thin book appeared in her hands. “This is the English version of the Lorebook of Exotiques. I’ve got the recipe here, all herbs we know except for one.” She flipped pages as she walked back. “And I’ve had that particular herb twice in larger amounts than you’ll receive. I’m still here, alive and kicking.” She found the entry and handed the book to Calli. “Look for yourself.”

Calli did. “Cinnamon, nutmeg, mugwort, bay. Rose petals?”

Marian nodded.

Staring at the page she saw another ingredient. “Centauriana,” she murmured. Another horse word. Almost like a sign.

Calli felt as if a stampede had galloped right over her. “I need to go to bed.”

“Can I tell the Chevaliers that you’ll go through with the Choosing and Bonding ceremony tomorrow afternoon?” Alexa pressed.

Exhaustion dropped on Calli like a thick horse blanket, smothering logical thought. Her vision blurred. When she blinked, everything still seemed out of focus. Sounds—more, music—enveloped her, running through her mind, preeminent among the strains was the tune of the Marshall Pair. They’d been so obviously a couple, obviously in love, and after many years. They believed in the Ritual.

Blinking again, she stared at Alexa and Marian who waited for her decision. Tonight both of these women would go to bed with men who loved them, were committed to them.

Loneliness ate at Calli, along with envy. A matchmaking ritual. The idea tempted. Her own judgment was lousy, and Alexa and Marian had found their loves on Lladrana, so why couldn’t she? What she’d seen of the couples, here…And magic worked. What the hell. Why not? What did she have to lose? “Sure, set it up.”

They smiled and came toward her, hugged her and the three of them linked and a huge Song filled Calli’s ears and traveled to her heart.

“The Song of Colorado women,” Marian whispered.

“See you tomorrow morning,” Alexa said. Both women left their arms around Calli’s waist.

Marian said, “Remember you aren’t alone. We’re here to help every step of the way. Don’t panic.”

“Just yell and we’ll come running.”

“Huh. Sounds like you’re trying to tell me something,” Calli said.

“I panicked,” Marian said.

“I did, too, especially when I saw my hair turned white overnight.”

Sleepiness fled. Calli looked down at Alexa. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Then Calli studied the wide silver streak in Marian’s hair. “I suppose you didn’t have that when you came, either?”

“Lladrana can be tough on hair color,” Marian said.

“I like being blond.”

“Hey, another reason to stay here.” Alexa grinned. “No dumb-blonde jokes.”

That just reminded Calli that her father thought her stupid and cowardly. She tensed. The other women noticed, of course.

“Sore spot? I’m sorry,” Alexa said, squeezing her into a tighter hug. The woman’s grip was like iron.

“I definitely need to get to bed,” Calli said.

“Right.” Alexa withdrew and marched to the door.

The short walk was silent, but the quiet between them was easy. Calli hadn’t had good female friends since high school. Nice to be part of a girl crowd.

Alexa opened the outer door of Calli’s suite and kissed her cheek, so did Marian.

“Thanks, guys.” Calli’s voice was hoarse with appreciation, weariness. She entered a narrow security corridor and turned left until she found another door, a tiny entryway and a third door, and finally got into the bedroom. Soft light glowed with the radiance of a summer evening from what looked like little suns on torches. Pulling off her boots and stripping, Calli slid into cool sheets. The lights went out and Calli fell into welcoming darkness.

She woke to hail pounding against the curved tower windows in the middle of the night and shot straight up in bed—a big four-poster bed with curtains. Weird.

She was still in Lladrana. Carefully, she stretched, and found her muscles in prime working order. Wiggling her hips, she tested her pelvis. Fine.

Oh, man.

Did she even want to wake up at home? At least the problems here were new, didn’t seem as crushing as fighting her father for her home and her vision of the ranch. That would take a lot of money and effort to win. More money to fix up the ranch the way she wanted.

If she was stuck here, what had she gotten herself into with that damn Choosing and Bonding ceremony? Dare she trust the “magic” to find her a man who’d match her? What was she thinking. Was she totally crazy?

But those Marshalls—Mace and Clua—had been the most married couple she’d ever seen. Like Marian and Jaquar, they’d die together. She trembled. Could she possibly want that much connection?

That much love?

Yes.

This need to give and receive love came from deep inside. As if all the love she’d poured onto her father over the years had bounced off him and come back to her and she had this great store.

Getting up, she found her clothes washed and folded on a chest at the end of the bed and just stared at them. Someone had been in her rooms? Who had the key?

Surely it would only have been Alexa or Marian checking on her. Still, the sooner she had her own rooms and key, the better. Next to her things was a stack of underwear. In her size. Must be magic, there, too—she touched her old clothes, noticing the texture of denim and cotton. Alien to this world.

She turned, staggered back at the sight of a small neon-blue volaran hovering near the corner of one of the bed’s foot posts. The animal was only about a foot long.

She pressed a hand against her pounding heart. “My God, you startled me!” She knew this…person. The energy of the being was familiar. There was her sixth sense again and she disliked how much she was depending upon it.

I am Sinafinal, the feycoocu.

Of course she was. Staring at the creature, she realized she’d seen it before. As a hawk. As the cat. Calli sat on the chest.

You are not crazy. You are on Lladrana. You should go through the Choosing and Bonding ceremony.

“And I should listen to you, too, huh?”

Yes. The volaran loop-de-looped a couple of times, leaving a bright blue trail behind her.

“Why—”

You should stay here on Lladrana. Here you will have a love of your own, children, land, a home.

“Guaranteed?” Calli infused great sarcasm into the word.

Sinafinal fluttered up to within six inches of Calli’s eyes and hung there. Yes, guaranteed.

Calli’s stomach clutched.

Everyone wants to be loved. Why do you see your big heart as being a fault?

Because Dad never valued love? This introspection was getting too damn intense. She didn’t like it. She preferred action.

By this time tomorrow night you will be sharing a big bed with a lover, a man drawn particularly to you.

“Uhn.” That idea was so good it hurt. Made Calli’s chest ache.

When you both awake the next morning, you will choose your land. You will have enough zhiv from the land and an annuity as an Exotique that you will never want for any material thing for the rest of your life. Enough to build the perfect stables and training grounds for horses and volarans.

The little volaran was sure spinning a sweet story.

In three weeks you will have adopted a child.

Calli flopped back, banged her head on the wooden footboard behind her. “Ouch! Dammit all!”

Sinafinal zoomed over and perched on her head, Calli could feel four little hooves, and goose bumps covered her body. With two flaps of the magical being’s wings, Calli’s headache was gone. Oh, boy. She rubbed the back of her head anyway. “Why are you being so insistent about this?”

Because without you, the volarans will not bond as much as needed with humans. They won’t be ready for the great, final fight.

Calli swallowed. “Who won’t be ready? What final fight?”

There will be much more loss of life.

“I don’t want to hear this.”

That’s why I am telling you.

I don’t want to believe you. Though she hadn’t said the words aloud, the feycoocu answered her anyway.

I know.

“Hell.”

The neon-blue volaran examined one of her wingtips. If you do not believe me and do not continue with the Choosing and Bonding ritual, I will convince everyone that you should consult the Singer for a Song Quest. Perhaps a strong vision direct from the Song will be powerful enough to convince you of your worth here.

Ooooh. Zinged several hot buttons all right. “Damned if I do, damned if I don’t,” Calli muttered. “This had better be a dream.”

It isn’t. You will awake here. The little blue volaran’s muzzle stretched in an unnatural smile.

“Go away. I’m planning on waking up in my own bed on the Rocking Bar T.” But it sounded weaker and weaker to her.

Sinafinal circled the room. All the Exotiques will have companions. Alexa has me. Marian has Tuckerinal. You have Thunder.

Calli snorted. “Sidekicks. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m going to bed. I hope not to see you in my dreams.”

Sinafinal dipped a wing and flew through a closed window into the night.

Calli looked out at the darkness below—no lights. She looked at the moon and star-bright sky. Not Earth’s sky, not even from the southern hemisphere, too many stars for that. She shrugged. When she woke she’d either be home or not. If she was here, the day would be packed with fateful events from the moment she opened her eyes.

9

Calli woke and stretched luxuriously. The bed was wonderful, too bad she was alone in it. She must be treating herself to a good hotel near the next competition…everything rushed back.

She was in Lladrana. Or at least she wasn’t in her own bed back at the ranch. What was written in those old-time black-and-white movies? “Meanwhile, back at the ranch…” A hollow laugh rasped from her. What little peace she’d felt when she woke up vanished.

But there were compensations. She walked from the bedroom to the den where she could see the Landing Field. A couple of volarans and riders were already out, lifting their wings and soaring. Her breath caught at the beauty.

That could be her…flying into the dawn. She watched until they diminished into specks and she became aware of standing naked in a strangely furnished den—with books and scrolls in an alphabet she couldn’t read.

Her breath came in short bursts and she felt the way she did just before a race, scared and excited and determined. She’d get through this day and the one after that…Back in the bedroom, she dressed near the windows. The only person who’d see her would be riding volaran-back and she’d see them first.

Lladrana. Fabulous flying horses. Horrible monsters. Nobody had talked much about the monsters she’d be expected to fight. Trying to keep the really bad downside of this life low key. Her stomach clenched. As if they could. As if she hadn’t seen wisps of them in Alexa’s mind, in Bastien’s and Jaquar’s and in Marian’s—a man with tentacles on his face reeking of evil power. Yeah, she had inklings. Enough that it made her pace, unready to open the door and explore on her own. Silly, but with a day full of such strange and magical experiences as the day before, she intended to be cautious.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch…what would her dad be doing? Thinking she’d run somewhere, no doubt. He wouldn’t gloat. That would take too much emotion, show too much an investment in her, which he didn’t have.

The doorharp rippled, and Marian’s projected tones said, “Calli, ready for breakfast?”

Calli didn’t answer.

“Think she’ll drink a language potion this morning?” Marian asked.

“Not a chance. Besides, if she doesn’t back out of that Choosing and Bonding ceremony, she’ll get the language transfer in bed.” There was a lilt in Alexa’s voice.

Calli decided she didn’t like being talked about. The two women were probably not going away. She opened the door. Standing before her, looking perfectly fresh, were Alexa and Marian; near their feet were two small greyhounds.

Salutations, Calli, said one. Sinafinal.

Salutations, Calli, said the other. I am Tuckerinal.

“Tuck’s my ex-hamster,” said Marian. “He’s a feycoocu like that one.” She pointed to Sinafinal.

I have given her my name so she can call on me at any time, said Sinafinal, my mated name.

Marian grinned and kissed Calli on the cheek. “Good morning. You should know that only a few people know Sinafinal’s name. Only Alexa and Bastien of the Marshalls. Only Jaquar and I of the Circlets.”

“Huh,” Calli said. Two minutes on the threshold of her room and stuff was overwhelming her again. Magical hamsters. Sheesh.

“You really are in a different dimension.” Alexa looked sympathetic. “You slept. Let’s go eat.”

“Try not to drop too many more bombs on me, huh?” Calli said. Alexa opened her mouth, closed it, but Calli figured they were probably thinking the same thing. In circumstances like these she’d be getting hit with strange problems every hour.

She ate in the richly paneled Marshalls’ Dining Room, set up like one of the fanciest restaurants she’d ever seen—pastel tablecloths on round and rectangular tables, embroidered in rich colors, with matching napkins. Crystal. Fine china.

She had a great breakfast of a cheese omelette, bacon and fluffy croissants, and chuckled to herself. Something French she was addicted to, the cowgirl loved croissants, one of the ways she chose her restaurants on the rodeo circuit. She’d eaten everything from preprepared, frozen, grocery store-bought croissants to flaky ribbons of pastry steaming from the oven.

These were prime.

“I guess we should tell her about the men,” Alexa said to Marian.

“Thank you, but I’ve learned about men all by myself.” Calli didn’t look up from her meal.

“What about men?” Marian sounded puzzled.

Calli caught Alexa’s gesture from the edge of her vision. She could feel the Marshalls’ gazes boring into her, their curiosity surging around her. The chief honcho, Thealia Germaine, sat at the long table a few chairs down from them, watching, as if trying to puzzle out their conversation. Calli knew if she bolted, Thealia would be on her and have her hog-tied in an instant. The Marshalls took a deep interest in her, the Chevalier Exotique.

“Lladranan men, like Faucon and Luthan,” Alexa said.

As she recognized the handsome Chevalier’s name she’d seen before, Faucon, a thrill zipped down Calli’s spine. Would she be in bed with him by the time night fell? “And I think I’ll know a lot about Lladranan men by tomorrow morning.” Did she actually say that?

Alexa snickered. Marian touched Calli’s shoulder. “This is important. A certain proportion of the Lladranan population find you—us—Exotiques, instinctively repulsive or attractive.”

“Might be pheromones.” Alexa bit into a slice of toast.

“Interesting idea,” Marian said.

“With your coloring, blond hair and blue eyes, you’re even more Exotique than either of us,” Alexa said.

Calli didn’t think so. Alexa was little and had green eyes, Marian auburn hair and blue eyes. “Faucon and Luthan?” Now that she recalled her meeting with Faucon last night in the stables, she remembered odd fluctuations in his aura. Was that why Bastien had moved him along, because Faucon was more blinded by her “Exotiqueness” than interested in her as a person?

“Faucon is attracted to Exotiques. Luthan, Bastien’s brother, is repulsed. You’ll work with both of them. They should be here this morning to meet you.”

“They are,” Marian murmured. She waved to three men who stood and approached.

“Who’s the third?” Calli asked.

“My brother Koz.” Marian hesitated. “His mind and soul and emotions are my brother Andrew in a Lladranan body.”

Calli thought her mouth dropped wide open. She didn’t know that she liked the idea of different bodies and souls.

Marian said, “It’s a long story. We should have just given you our Lorebooks. The Lorebooks of Exotique Alexa and the Lorebook of Exotique Marian, where Alexa and I wrote down our experiences.”

“Thank you, and that might have worked best for you and Alexa, but I liked, like, having things explained personally.” Calli turned her gaze to Alexa. “Thank you for being here. It’s been a great help.”

Alexa pinkened.

At that moment the guy wearing pure white leathers stopped, held himself stiffly, shuddered, then drew a deep breath. His lips thinned as if in anger and disgust and Calli knew Alexa was right. The man didn’t like that he had this response to Exotiques. That he was less than perfect? Or that he saw himself less than a normal Lladranan?

Faucon pulled ahead of the other two, a twinkle in his eye. At least he didn’t have a dumb-ass stupid dazed and infatuated look on his face. So he controlled his “innate attraction” to some extent, too. Interesting.

Koz caught up with Faucon. Luthan drew near more slowly.

When he and Koz neared the table, Faucon stepped in front of the other man, bowed and said the same thing he had the night before. “Prie introd moi?”

Alexa shoved back her chair and stood. Calli figured breakfast was over and swallowed her last luscious bite of croissant. She’d have to make sure the Chevaliers’ Dining Room in Horseshoe Hall had the same quality. And that idea about stopped her heart. She was planning.

For a life on Lladrana.

A teeny plan, but it had risen to her mind naturally and that was a little scary.

She put her utensils down carefully, then stood herself.

“Callista Torcher, I’d like to present Faucon Creusse, an excellent volaran rider and Chevalier. A wealthy, noble landowner and all-around great guy,” Alexa said.

Faucon took one of Calli’s limp hands and raised it to his lips. He brushed a kiss on the back and she felt a definite tingle and a couple of musical notes sounded in her head. Maybe things were looking up. He said something in a liquid, caressing tone. Since his eyes had heated, she thought it must be complimentary.

“Hey, ladies,” Koz said in accented English, jostling Faucon down a couple of seats. The other man scowled at Koz’s use of English.

Marian cleared her throat. Her aura was a little spiky. “Calli, my brother Koz Perrin, late of San Mateo, California. Koz, Calli Torcher of the Rocking Bar T Ranch, Colorado.”

He grinned, showing white, even teeth, and held out his hand as if to shake. Calli grasped his and felt a tiny stirring, a little “plink” like one key struck on a piano. “When you get your ranch here, you’ll have to call it the Flying Bar T.”

She laughed and shook his hand. She liked him.

Marian rose. Koz hugged his sister, ruffled her hair. “So, what’s up?”

“We’re going shopping in Castleton,” Alexa said. “Measuring Calli for several pair of leathers, some chain mail—it’s magically light—and buying whatever else strikes our fancy.”

“Man, here or there, women are all the same.” Koz grimaced. When Faucon asked a question, Koz turned to him and translated. Faucon put a hand on his heart and inclined his torso, speaking.

“Girls only!” Alexa said.

Koz smiled again. “Too bad.” But when he relayed the information to Faucon, that man sighed and sat at the table.

“Isn’t this the Marshalls’ Dining Room?” Calli asked, stepping into the aisle behind Alexa as she walked to the door.

“Yes, but Luthan is the representative of the Singer and wealthy. And Koz was looking for his sister, who is a Circlet and in the company of a Marshall,” Alexa said.

“So, I suppose I’ll also have a special dispensation to eat here, too.” Calli thought of the croissants.

“For sure.” Alexa smiled ironically. “I can promise you that the Marshalls will want to grill you from time to time.”

“Wonderful.”

Marian said, “Both Faucon and Koz will be at your Choosing.”

Calli swallowed, but she listened to the women’s stories of attraction/repulsion experiences and how Koz came to be Lladranan as they walked to the stables.

Calli had insisted on checking on Thunder and giving him a treat of a juicy apple. When he nuzzled her and she stroked his neck, breathing in the amber scent of volaran, ran a finger down some wing feathers, once again she thought she could accept this place.

“Shopping!” Marian called from outside the stables.

“I want to fly with you,” Calli whispered to Thunder. “But I don’t like the tack. I’ll order something different in town.”

He whickered. I am Volaran Valley born. I do not like the tack, either. Thank you. I love you.

With one last rub of his nose, she stepped away, blinking. Stupid tears. Her throat was tight, too. She repeated the image he’d sent to her of a beating heart. I love you.

Alexa kicked the dirt, sighed. “This mutual admiration society meeting done?”

Turning, Calli forced a smile and found it came easier than she’d thought at the wariness she saw on Alexa’s face when she looked at Thunder. “Hey, I’m the Exotique Summoned for the volarans. I know and love them, and they adore me.” She said it, knowing it was true.

“Yeah, yeah.” Alexa waved and took off at a brisk pace.

“What do you have against volarans?” asked Calli.

“I didn’t ride before I came.”

“City girl.”

“You got it. And since—” she scowled at the stables “—I’ve broken both my arms twice, I don’t care for flying. I. Fall. Off.”

“Oh.”

“I know you’re laughing.”

Calli cleared her throat. “Did it occur to you that you might have better luck with different tack?”

Alexa slanted her a surprised look. “City girl. No.” But she appeared to be considering, and her expression lightened.

Calli, Marian and Alexa walked from the stables through Horseshoe Close and the Chevaliers who were in the courtyard all stopped and stared at them, many bowing. Calli followed Alexa’s lead and nodded to them.

The walk down to Castleton was pretty and she found the town just that, an odd little place that wasn’t quite a city, definitely nothing like Old West ghost towns she’d seen, or the old center of modern Western cities.

“More like late Renaissance or early industrial age than medieval,” Marian said.

“You should know. But I wasn’t thinking in medieval terms, either. I want to visit a blacksmith and tack and saddle maker first,” Calli said.

“Okay,” said Alexa.

“Why don’t you have blacksmiths and artisans up at the Castle?”

“We do.” Alexa shook her head. “But the best live in the city. Don’t want to be under the Marshalls’ and Chevaliers’ thumbs, I suppose.”

“And there’s the fact that until a couple of years ago the Marshalls and Chevaliers usually lived on their estates—before the fence posts began to fall and the situation became dire,” Marian said.

Calli sucked in a deep breath. “You’d better tell me about these monsters.”

“We’ll take you to the Nom de Nom,” Alexa said.

“The what?”

“The tavern where the Chevaliers hang out.”

“Oh,” Calli said.

“It has trophies…heads and other body parts,” said Marian.

“Oh.” The hollow tone was back in her voice, along with a nice sick feeling in her stomach. “I’m going to have to fight these things, right?”

“Right. But I think you’ll find you’re a natural,” Alexa said. “We’ll train you…and when you Choose and Bond with a Lladranan, you’ll become a fighting pair. A Sword for offense and a Shield for defense.” Alexa tapped her chest. “I’m a Sword, Bastien is my Shield. I fight with magic and magical weapons. He protects me magically. Here’s the saddle maker, right next to the smithy.”

Neither of those places looked like anything Calli had ever seen, though the inside of the small shop smelled like fine leather and wood. She spent some time drawing what she considered the perfect saddle, hackamore and other tack for the craftswoman who kept darting fascinated glances at her. It took twice the time it should have since neither Alexa nor Marian knew the proper Lladranan words for such specific items.

All of them watched the blacksmith for a time. Marian and Alexa seemed to like seeing how he worked with metal and magic. The heat sizzled around them.

Squinting up at the sun, Calli wiped her sleeve across her forehead. She judged the time as late morning.

“She needs a cowboy hat. A Stetson!” Alexa cried. “We all need cowboy hats! Oh, yeah, I can see us now. The Exotique Gang.” She did a little boogie and her boots kicked up dust. Then she lifted a foot. “And some of those excellent cowboy boots, worked in patterns and colors and stuff. We need to show these people our cultural heritage!”

Calli and Marian laughed together, and it felt really good to laugh with other women.

Marian gestured to her robe. “Can you see me in a cowboy hat and this?”

“Well, it can’t be any worse than that hat Bastien designed, which is all the rage.”

“And Jaquar wears the original all the time and looks like a dweeb. All too true.” Marian shook her head.

“It’s time you get tailored leathers, Marian. A cowboy hat and boots would complete the ensemble.”

Calli nudged Alexa with her elbow. “You ever had a cowboy hat, city-girl lawyer?”

Alexa scowled. “No, but only because I could never find one to fit me.”

She was awfully small. “You could have had one made to order.” Calli didn’t say she could have bought a girl’s size.

“Yeah, like I had the dough.” Alexa snorted, then jingled money—zhiv—in her pockets and beamed. “But I do now. I’m not leaving this place until I order a cowboy hat!” She frowned. “You have any idea how they make them or the design dimensions or what, Calli?”

“I’ve worn them all my life, had a few droop with rain, freeze with snow and generally get trampled under hooves. I think I can give the hatmaker a good idea of what we want.”

“Good, off to the leathers tailor,” Alexa said.

“Combat cuirtailleur,” Marian murmured. Catching Calli’s expression, she said, “The fighting-leathers tailor.” Her lips quirked. “Naturally Alexa patronizes only the best.”

“Oh,” Calli said. She walked with them three abreast on sidewalks along a spacious street, until they reached a large shop with wide windows. There she got measured for several sets of leathers and her blood chilled as she thought of fighting. Marian stood by and translated for her.

Calli pointed to a pile of “leather” squares on the counter. “What are these?”

Alexa glanced at them, went over and inspected the stack, flipped through and shoved each square at Calli. “Soul-sucker,” a thick gray lizard-like skin. “Slayer,” yellow with long yellow fur and strange round bare spots. “Render,” thick, tough skin with a black pelt the consistency of steel wool. “Snipper,” something like Calli suspected rhinoceros hide to be. “Dreeth,” a fine, thin but incredibly strong skin of fine snakelike scales “Dreeth?” Alexa looked up at the old, wizened tailor. “Where did you get dreeth? And how much do you have of it?”

He bowed deeply. “Your Shield, Bastien, brought it in. We have an understanding.”

“Serves me right for not paying attention,” Alexa muttered.

“I will have the Chevalier Exotique’s leathers ready by this evening.” He bowed again.

“Please send them to me at the Castle,” Alexa said, “and put them on my account.”

“I’ll pay you back!” Calli said when Marian translated.

Alexa shrugged, smiled and replied in English. “A gift. Many people will be giving you gifts to get in your good graces. Expect something from the Citymasters and the Singer, too. Let’s head to the Nom de Nom for lunch.”

“You’ll love it,” Marian said and Calli couldn’t tell whether that was being sarcastic or not.

10

They walked up to a shabby, narrow stone building with a sign that changed magically from black letters on a white background to white letters on a black background.

This was the place that held monster trophies. Calli didn’t think she was ready, but it would be better getting used to dead monsters hanging on walls than live ones attacking.

Alexa said, “Acclimatizing you, Calli. The Nom de Nom is one of the main hangouts for the Chevaliers, so you’ll probably be spending plenty of time here. The trophies are in the upper third of the room. You might want to look up after we’ve settled in a booth.” She hesitated. “This place isn’t as bad as the Assayer’s Office. If you need to, uh, get more of an idea what you’ll be facing, you can go there.” She opened the door to the scent of smoke and food and liquor. “And there’s a back room you should see.”

The moment Calli walked in, conversation stopped. The place wasn’t packed, but the bar on her right was full, with Chevaliers leaning or sitting on stools. Of the five booths, two were taken. Alexa scowled at the couple in the last booth against the wall and they got up and moved to one closer to the door. A waitress hurried over to wipe the table.

All the Chevaliers watched Calli with considering gazes. Well, they were getting an eyeful of the Exotique they might want to mate with. Calli wondered if she’d find more or fewer tokens on the Choosing table after this visit.

A woman at the bar flinched, slipped from her seat and left.

Feeling self-conscious and wanting to get this “trophy” ordeal over with, Calli glanced up. Time seemed to stop and fear bubbled up her throat.

The first thing she saw was the torso of a snarling beast with spines on its arms. She tried to swallow but couldn’t pull her gaze away from the fierce glass eyes, the open muzzle that showed sharp, deadly teeth. Its fur was yellow, as was the underside of its digited paws. Yellow skin, yellow fur. Slayer.

Marian picked up one of Calli’s hands and curved her fingers around a mug handle. Her spit had dried, so she took a gulp, and cold, yeasty ale slid down her throat. She tore her gaze away to Marian who was gesturing for her to slide into the bench opposite Alexa, who faced the room. Calli decided that having people stare into the back of her head—her blond head—would feel better than meeting a stream of brown-eyed stares. She managed to pick one foot up after the other to get to the table and slide in on what seemed to be a red leather bench. Leather made from cows or something—not monster hide.

“I ordered burgers for lunch,” Alexa said.

Marian took the outside seat and Calli closed her eyes a moment in thanks that these two women were so protective.

At least for now. They seemed to think that she’d go out and fight monsters like the slayer, or the larger beast next to it. This one snarled, too, its fangs as sharp as the slayers, its black furred head more massive. On either side of the head were huge paws with long, curved, sharply pointed claws that looked more like blades than anything else.

“Render,” Alexa said, and removed a little woven basket of tea leaves from her mug, placing it on a saucer.

Calli forced herself to savor the ale. It was perfect. Rich, mellow, just to her taste, already warming her stomach. She’d settled enough from shock to glance up at the next mounted trophy of a horror—another torso. Gray, lizard-like skin, bony head with no nose, two arms with two suckered tentacles in front and behind each arm, a soul-sucker.

When she turned her gaze back to the table, she saw the other women watching her with understanding in their eyes. “Is that it?” she croaked.

“There are dreeths,” Alexa said.

“Of course, how could I forget dreeths? What are they?”

“Quetzalcoatlus,” Marian said.

“The Aztec plumed-serpent god?”

Alex huffed out a breath. “According to Marian, the biggest pterodactyl-type dinosaur on Earth is called a quetzalcoatlus.”

“Oh.”

“It has a bigger belly, though.”

“Sorta bat winged?” asked Calli, trying to imagine the thing.

“Yes. Clawed front legs and spurred, too.”

“Huh.”

“Marian?” Alexa held both hands out, palms up.

“Oh, very well,” Marian said. She linked fingers with Alexa and to Calli’s amazement a 3-D image formed above the table of a flying reptile.

“Not a dragon,” Calli said, looking at the hideous thing.

“No,” Marian and Alexa said in unison.

Its beak was long and curved. “More sharp teeth. Everything around here has sharp teeth except us and volarans.”

“The teeth are poison, like slayer spines,” Alexa said.

“Of course they are,” muttered Calli. “Regular teeth would be too easy. How big?”

“About the size of a bungalow,” Alexa said.

A short shriek and the clatter of plates toppling onto their table caused Marian and Alexa to break apart. They snatched two meals. Calli saw one plate overturn. “No!” The burger and bun stopped in midair, the plate turned right side up and the food slid back onto the thick pottery. Marian reached out and nabbed it, smiling at Calli. “You saved it.”

She’d used magic! Instinctively she’d stopped the mouthwatering food from falling. She’d even repiled the strange white fries. She looked at one dubiously. “What are these?”

“Turnip fries,” Alexa said, biting into her burger.

“Turnip?”

“They don’t have potatoes,” Marian explained sadly.

“I taught the cook burgers and buns, and they’re all the rage, of course, but without fries…” Alexa shrugged.

“What kind of meat?” Calli bit off the end of a turnip fry. Not even hot oil and salt could make it good. She dropped the fry onto the plate.

“Cow,” Marian said.

“Okay,” Calli said. “We got mustard and ketchup?”

“Something that might barely pass for about a gold coin more,” Alexa said.

“Shoot.”

“I’m working on that,” Marian said.

Since she was working on so many other projects, Calli didn’t think she’d be seeing the condiments soon.

“Ketchup is easier than mustard. They grow plenty of tomatoes here.” Marian peeled off her bun and showed lettuce and tomato.

The burger was plump and juicy and had Calli forgetting about everything except eating. The lettuce and tomato actually had taste, unlike most of the standard stuff she’d had in diners. She bit, swallowed. Breakfast seemed days instead of hours ago.

A man cleared his throat.

Calli looked up to see a tall, somber-looking guy wearing brown cotton trousers and shirt with a sleeveless tunic of dark gray over it. His left temple showed a streak of silver—that indicated he had magical powers, she remembered.

He made a little half bow to Alexa, then Marian, addressing them by name. Alexa gestured that he could join them and scooted over so he could sit next to her. He raised a hand and the waitress hurried over. Calli heard “burger,” and smiled. By the time Alexa, Marian and she were done with Lladrana, the people would sure have some Americanizations in their language.

Alexa put her sandwich down. Calli noticed she’d only eaten a couple of fries. “Calli, this is Sevair Masif, Representative of the Cities and Towns to the Marshalls.”

Another new face. Another guy looking her over coolly. “Tell him I’m pleased to meet him.” Though she really wasn’t much, she inclined her head. “What cities?”

Marian muffled a snort beside her.

“They just aren’t as urban as we are,” Alexa said.

“Castleton is, like, the main city, right? And it doesn’t have mustard and ketchup?”

Alexa sighed.

Marian said, “We did tell you that people would give you presents. This man did me a wonderful favor by sending my teacher and me and Jaquar an excellent cook.”

“He had a spice master send me a gift of tea. Expensive here. You want to ask him for mustard?”

Marian frowned. “Have you asked about mustard, Alexa? I think the southern part of Lladrana might make it, or the country south of here.”

“Haven’t asked,” Alexa said. “How important is mustard to you, Calli? Enough to ask for it as a gift instead of anything else? Tea’s important to me.”

“And let me tell you, that cook has been a lifesaver…or at least made my crotchety old mentor into a reasonable human being,” Marian said.

The waitress set down Masif’s plate and curtsied.

“Gifts. No strings attached?” Calli asked.

Alexa said something apologetic to Masif. He nodded and began eating, a little awkwardly, as if he wasn’t used to eating with his hands, concentrating on making sure the bun’s contents didn’t slip. For some reason Calli found that endearing.

“No strings attached.” Alexa grinned. “The thing is, everyone wants to get on our good sides, and since we’re virtually inexplicable, no one expects anything in return…at least not for the first gift.”

“Huh,” Calli said. “No strings? Ask the guy if he intends to put something on my Choosing table.”

Eyes dancing, Alexa did. All three Exotiques stared at him. A faint redness appeared on his cheekbones under his golden skin. He seemed to grit his teeth around his bite of burger. Glancing at her, then away, he swallowed and said something that sounded flowery.

Alexa coughed. Marian turned to Calli and said, “He asked if you’d be unhappy if he did so.”

“Unhappy.” She looked at Marian. “What’s the word for ‘no’?”

Alexa laughed. “I learned the word for ‘no’ within an hour here!”

Calli could believe that.

“Ttho,” said Marian.

Stomach fluttering with butterflies, Calli met Masif’s gaze and said, “Ttho.”

His eyes went big and he looked as if he was having second thoughts. Since she sensed he was a very serious man, she liked the fact she made him nervous. She didn’t see that they had much in common, but he looked like a stand-up guy, and the more choices she had, the better.

They all ate in silence. When they were done, Marian said, “Speaking of the Choosing and Bonding, we’d better get back.”

“There’re hours until evening,” Alexa grumbled. “Marian—”

“Back,” Marian said firmly. “You can’t prepare for something this life altering too early.”

Calli’s burger turned to lead in her stomach.

“Just gonna dump Sevair?” asked Alexa.

“If he’s going to put a token on the Choosing table, he’ll have to prepare, too,” Marian said. She gestured around them. “The place is almost empty. Most of the Chevaliers are probably up in Horseshoe Hall meditating and bathing and Singing.”

“Singing?” asked Calli.

“Praying,” Marian said.

“Oh.” It would probably be a good thing to do a bit of that herself. Calli didn’t consider herself a very spiritual person. Her dad certainly didn’t truck with any sort of religion, so she wasn’t quite sure who she’d pray to. The closest she’d come to a spiritual experience lately was flying on Thunder. That decided her. “I’d like to see the volarans again.”

“Shoot,” Marian said, digging into a pocket of her gown and dropping a couple of gold coins into Alexa’s outstretched hand.

Alexa winked at Calli. “I won the bet that you’d want to fly again before this evening.”

Calli stared at Marian. “You’re the one who was there when I took off and landed yesterday. You like volarans better than Alexa, why would you think I wouldn’t want to fly today?”

“You fell off yesterday. You don’t have the tack you like. You should be thinking of the Choosing and Bonding ritual and preparing for it.”

“I won’t fall off. Thunder wouldn’t let me. Bastien’s bringing a variety of tack for me to examine, so I’ll find something acceptable. As for preparing for the Choosing and Bonding, I’d rather keep my mind and hands occupied. Furthermore, I think the most spiritual experience I’ve had in my life was on the back of that volaran yesterday.”

Marian’s expression softened. “I understand.”

“So do I,” Alexa said, smiling.

“I am the volarans’ Exotique,” Calli said.

Masif wiped his mouth and hands with a napkin, then stood. He’d eaten very efficiently. All his turnip fries were gone. Without ketchup. There was no hope they’d link up together. He stood and slid from the table, offered Alexa a hand.

Alexa opened her fingers and picked out a gold coin. Masif curled her fingers back over the money and said something. He nodded to Marian and Calli.

On the other hand, the guy was obviously treating them. A gentleman. She could go for a gentleman.

Alexa and Marian murmured thanks in Lladranan. Calli waited and said, “Thank you,” matching his serious expression.

He set several gleaming silver coins on the table, bowed once more and walked away.

“Nice guy,” Alexa said.

“Very serious,” Marian said.

“Yes, we seem to prefer the rogue and charmer types, huh? How about you, Calli?”

“I’d like a man who’d love me.”

Again those warm smiles. “That’s what’s important,” Marian said. She stood and Calli followed her, glancing around the place, not looking at the trophies. Not many people lingered. Two gay couples, one male, one female, all of whom smiled at her, and a grizzled old man, stood at the bar. The other booths were empty.

“One moment,” Alexa said. She went toward a door on the wall.

“I’ve never been in there,” Marian said, following.

Feet slow, Calli asked, “More trophies?”

“Not exactly.” Alexa pushed open the door. The room was dark but the minute she walked in, light came on. She waved to roughly faceted quartz crystals sitting in brackets.

“An older lighting system, interesting,” Marian said. She stopped and looked up.

Calli entered the room and looked up, too. It wasn’t a large room, but it was high-ceilinged and held hundreds of flags in several rows from the top of the room to just above a tall Lladranan man’s head.

“Heraldic banners of Chevaliers and Marshalls who’ve died the last two and a half years fighting the Dark,” Alexa said.

Looking closer, Calli saw many were ripped and torn, showed brown stains of earth and blood. A couple were burnt and eaten away as if acid had spilled on them. Other colored stains, green, yellow or black, also decorated the flags.

Calli gulped.

Alexa stared at a big maroon banner edged in gold except where a chunk was burnt. Her expression was inscrutable. “That one belonged to Lord Knight Swordmarshall Reynard Vauxveau, Bastien and Luthan’s father.”

Swordmarshall Thealia held that title, Calli knew, the greatest title in all the land. So the most powerful man in the country had died.

Marian said, “We must return to the Castle.” She walked back into the barroom. Alexa did, too, leaving Calli alone.

Calli stared at the flags, hanging still and solemn. Her heart tightened in awe and fear. All these people had fought against the monsters displayed in the other room, and lost. Died.

Soon Calli would bind herself to a man who’d fight. She’d be expected to fight, too. Or defend with magic, Shield to the man’s Sword. Risk limb and life and volaran. Volarans must have died, too. She put a hand to her throat.

She wanted a husband and a family and a ranch and beautiful volarans.

This was the price.

11

As they were leaving town, Calli heard the worst thing in the world, horses’ terrified cries. She ran in the direction—more by feel and the screeching notes of mental noise than by ears. It was farther than she expected, through the town to the outskirts. There she saw a small round pen where a man flailed at two horses, a black and a bay, with a snapping whip, raising blood.

A protective force field rippled around the man with the whip, but Calli could see his aura beneath—a nauseating yellow-green color. In the shadows of the building another chartreuse glow pulsed with meanness and excitement as he watched the abuse.

“Stop!” Calli shouted, running fast. Fury burned in her so hotly she thought her hair crackled out from her head.

The men turned to her, sneers on their face. Then they froze. The guy with the whip dropped his arm, openmouthed.

Alexa, breathing hard, caught Calli’s arm. “You slow down. Calm down. I’ll translate for you, but watch yourself. Your Power is out of control, shooting off sparks!”

Alexa’s strong grip gave Calli pause. Her words penetrated the red haze. Then she blinked, seeing what Alexa said was true. Little fire-bright sparks rose from her skin.

The man in the shadows bolted.

Alexa’s baton flew into her hand. She pointed it at the men and yelled, “Arret!”

This time the men really did freeze, midmotion, their eyes rolling as wildly as the horses’. Satisfaction surged in Calli. Super powers at work. Excellent. She found herself grinning and knew part of the assholes’ fear was because of her. Really good.

She reached the paddock where the horses still circled in fright. “What do you think you’re doing?” she said softly to the men. Alexa translated the question, her voice full of threat.

The men said nothing. Calli got the impression they couldn’t speak. Alexa waved. “Parly.”

Calli leaned against the wooden rail, waiting until it was safe. The man in the pen gauged the horses’ gallops and ran to escape when they were on the far side of him. He scrambled over the fence.

“Well?” asked Calli, lacing menace into her tone. The guy in the shadows cringed back, tumbled into speech, gesticulating.

Alexa looked at Calli, disgust on her face. “He said the horses wouldn’t go.”

“They’re goin’ now.”

“That’s for sure,” Marian said, joining them. She sent the men an icily aristocratic look that had them bunching together.

“What’s the law about animal abuse?” Calli asked.

“Don’t know,” Alexa said, “but I’ll find out.”

“Tell ’em that I want ’em gone. Now,” Calli said.

That didn’t go over well. The men raised their own voices, waved their hands. Calli thought they were using the old “these animals are my property and I can do whatever I want with them” defense. Mid-tirade she swept an arm out toward them and banged them up against the outbuilding wall.

Alexa grabbed her arm. “Don’t do that again. Your Power is out of control.”

She was right. Calli trembled from more than her anger. Power rushed through her like a flooding river. She had to dam it, use it. For good. Not to whup some stupid asses who had skulls too thick to ever learn how to treat a horse, egos too solid to ever think that someone else could teach them. Even a lesson in fear wouldn’t last with them very long.

But, oh, how she wanted to give them that lesson in fear. Terrify them until—Sparks jumped from her skin again, and gave her a quick, shocking backlash, sizzling a few of her nerves.

“Wow,” Alexa said. “Lock it down, Calli.”

Dam it. Right. She sucked in a deep lungful of summer air.

Marian had been coolly watching. “I think it would be best if we paid them off for the moment. Bought the horses. Are you all right with that, Calli?”

“Yes, but I don’t have any money.”

“We’ll take care of it,” Marian said, keeping her eye on the men. She said something, sounded like a price. The men shook their heads, their voices becoming louder again.

Marian looked down her nose, gestured to the horses, obviously telling the guys the animals weren’t in good shape.

They argued more.

“Arret,” Alexa said, crossed her arms and glared. “Take it or leave it, but get away from here.”

The man who’d been in the ring spat in the dirt.

“Too stupid to live,” Marian said in a tone of wonder. “Facing the three most Powerful women in the country and arguing over a few coins.”

Calli turned to the two men, considering what else she might be able to do with magic.

Marian touched her arm. “You’re very Powerful. You’ve proven your point, you don’t need to intimidate them further.” She handed Calli three small gold coins.

Sending a scalding look at Marian, Calli shook off her hand. Motioning to Alexa, she strode up to the men. “You tell these…turds…that they had better not ever treat another horse this way or I’ll skin their hides.”

With a smile that showed all her teeth, Alexa fingered her sheathed baton and repeated the words. The men paled. Calli’s smile matched Alexa’s.

“Bastien and I will make sure they pay,” Alexa growled. The two weren’t looking happy now. In fact, their eyes had gone wide and round as they looked from Calli to Alexa to Marian.

Calli threw the gold coins at the men’s feet. “Go.”

They scooped up the gold and scrambled away without a backward glance.

Now she was faced with the task of transporting two terrified and abused horses up to the Castle. She didn’t know how she’d manage. It usually took her a minimum of two and a half hours to work a green horse into trusting her, let alone a mistreated one. “We need to get the horses to the Castle.”

“Or stash them somewhere until you can come back to them,” Marian said.

“That could work.” Calli’d rather have them close. These animals she understood. The familiarity of horseflesh, even their scent, reassured her, reminded her that she was a damn good horsewoman.

“Try whispering to them,” Alexa said.

“I’m not going near them just yet.”

“With your mind, Calli,” Alexa suggested gently.

Shit, what did Alexa think Calli could say? “Here, horsey, horsey,” like some tenderfoot? Calli leaned on the rail and closed her eyes. She brought the equine language she’d learned a bit of yesterday to mind and mentally reached for the horses. She heard fearful shouts. Men. Will kill me. Will eat me. Run. Run. Run.

Calm, she tried radiating the feeling. Come to me. I will help. I will protect. She said that in her mind but kept up a flow of completely confident and serene emotions to them.

The sun bore down on her, making her shirt stick to her back. Her scalp dampened. This was hard!

The horses’ hooves slowed from a gallop to a canter, then a walk. Finally they calmed and lowered their heads to sniff around the ring.

Come see me, she coaxed.

Their eyes rolled as they saw her—or maybe it was the three of them, not quite in the shades they might usually see.

But now Calli could sense their thought patterns—or equine images. Of course, they weren’t intelligent like volarans. But they were curious. Especially about her smell, which was volaran and horse and different-horse. And predator, but the meat-eater was behind a fence and the bad bad-men predators were gone and the other littler predators smelled interesting, too.

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