ANYA
“He will see you. Follow me.”
The Visigoth scowled at me, not liking that we’d discovered their secret hideaway on the far side of this island off the coast of Dalmatia.
I would never admit how difficult it had been to spy and bribe our way here to Issa.
But my men and I were resourceful, far more than some might think of a rough pack of gladiators.
There was a small settlement of an Illyian tribe near the shores of Issa. That’s where the old Illyrian had told us to look for the cave named after their war god Medaurus. He said we’d know it by the spiky top in the shape of Medaurus holding his lance.
“The war god marked that stone,” the old man had said. “It is a sacred place for warriors.”
So we’d rowed around the island along the shoreline until we spotted the misshapen rock jutting up above some caves.
The Illyrians had huge imaginations, because the peak of the cave looked more like a hunchbacked goblin than a god holding his spear. Nevertheless, we knew it must be the place. We’d been spotted, then surrounded, before we even touched shore.
After all of the blustering threats by the angry barbarians, who were obviously disgruntled that we’d discovered their hideaway, one of them had relayed my message to their leader, Alaric.
I’d only come with Maksim, Thrax, and Dago, leaving the others back at the village on the mainland. If this all went wrong, Maksim could shift and fly us out of here. Dago didn’t look as intimidating as the rest of our gladiator clan, but he was extremely fast and deadly with his daggers.
I stepped toward the mouth of the cave, as did my men behind me, but the Visigoth turned again.
“Not them,” he snapped roughly. “They stay here.”
Maksim growled, the dragon inside him not liking the idea. I simply shook my head at him and the others. They all knew I could handle myself. Maksim’s beast was simply overprotective.
The Visigoth glared at Maksim, his own eyes flaring with a supernatural spark of silver, as if challenging him. He was a dragon as well. Interesting.
Anyone who lived and traveled the outer provinces of the Empire knew that there were plenty of dragon-born men and women living among the non-Roman populations. But there appeared to be more dragons than humans amongst the Visigoths I’d seen since we’d arrived.
“I’ll be fine,” I told the three of them and turned toward the craggy mouth of the cave, the sea wind whipping the loose strands of my hair not bound in braids.
Gulls called along the seashore, echoing inside the vast inner chamber of the cave. It was unlike any cave I’d ever seen. There were crevices both above and below, reflecting the water and sunlight on the interior, until we went deeper.
The barbarian leading the way took a torch from a sconce in the wall.
My three newest shades—souls of men I’d killed with the death kiss—squeezed in tightly around me.
I preferred they keep their distance, and usually they did.
But something about the dark made them hover close as if our connection might break if they lost me in the shadows.
Unfortunately, the bond would never break.
Even when they learned to fade into the ghost realm as I called it, where the dozens of others existed most of the time, I would never be free of this burden of death and darkness.
Because I’d swallowed their souls when I killed them, they would forever haunt me. Just as Bunica had warned.
My escort came out of the tunnel into a spacious, high-ceilinged cave with natural light pouring in.
This chamber was rounded to a domed ceiling where an oculus had been carved at the center.
Far beneath it was a fire, its smoke unfurling out of the opening, and surrounding the firepit were several Visigoths.
They all wore similar clothing—rough-hewn tunics in grays and browns over dark trousers made of animal hide.
Even so, there was a man sitting among them who was set apart.
It wasn’t the long, shining brown hair or the scruffy beard on his face, for they all appeared similar in that way.
It was the sharp cut of his angular face and the broadness of his chest. Even sitting, I could tell he was taller than any of them.
More than that, it was the arresting intensity of his hazel-gold eyes tracking me across the room with predatory interest.
When I came to a stop, I knew he was Alaric, their barbarian king, the one I came for. I didn’t bother with niceties and went straight to it.
“You claim to have fought your way out of Rome with the help of a bloodsinger. Is that true?”
He arched a dark brow. “Who are you? How did you find me?”
I heaved a frustrated sigh. “My name is Anya. It doesn’t matter how I found you.
Nor do I care whatever you have planned with this little army of yours.
” I gestured to the few men in the chamber, all of them having stopped what they were doing to watch the newcomer.
“I don’t care if you plan to raid every province and rob the world blind.
All I want to know is if this is true. If so, did you catch the name of this woman called the bloodsinger? ”
While two of his men growled, the beasts living inside them letting me know they didn’t like me—as if I cared—Alaric simply smiled, amused.
His gaze snagged on the left side of my face, which I was used to by now.
“Who gave you the scar?” he asked.
Annoyed that he refused to answer me, to confirm the story that had brought me all the way from Thrace to this little island, I swallowed my impatience and answered.
“My first kill.”
“It went wrong?”
“Not at all. It was glorious. I simply wanted a closer look. I wanted to watch the life fade from his eyes, and I wanted him to know it was me who did it.” I shrugged. “He caught me with his claw. But I like the scar. It reminds me of killing him.”
It also taught me a valuable lesson—that I could never let down my guard, not even with the dead or dying. As if my last kill, that slaver on the border of Dalmatia, could hear me, he appeared to the right of the men, watching them with hollow, black eyes.
The inner fire of Alaric’s dragon sparked in his golden eyes as he perused my face carefully, as if committing each disfiguring mark to memory. “I like the scar too.”
“Wait a minute,” interrupted a bald, brawny man with a long, shaggy beard sitting on a log to his right. “You’re the Viper Queen. I saw you fight in an arena in Gaul. In Lugdunum.”
“Viper Queen?” chuckled another. “She looks rather harmless to me. And not royal at all.”
Someone else laughed at my expense. It didn’t bother me. My appearance was deceiving. They always underestimated me. I rather enjoyed proving men wrong.
“She’s famous,” the bald one told the others, as if I wasn’t there. “Or infamous, depending what side of the arena you’re on. And fucking fast.”
He then checked my belt where my curved knife was sheathed. The guards outside didn’t think me any sort of threat, so they let me keep my weapon. He was nervous. That made me smile.
Alaric stood and walked around the fire. He was nearly two heads taller than me, but the size of men didn’t intimidate me. It was the cunning and calculation behind his eyes that actually set me on edge.
“The Viper Queen,” he mused, crossing his arms and staring pensively. “What’s so important that it brings you halfway across the world to my doorstep?”
Why are men such idiots?
“First of all, this isn’t a doorstep. You have no door. If you haven’t noticed, you’re living in a grimy, dank cave with a bunch of smelly men. And second, I’ve already told you why I’m here. You simply continue to ignore my questions and refuse to answer me.”
“It’s my prerogative. This is my grimy, dank cave that you’ve invaded, after all.”
“We did not invade. We arrived by boat with only three of my men, knowing you likely wouldn’t take kindly to outsiders infiltrating your hideaway.”
He grinned. “Your men. So you’re the leader of your gladiators?”
“Surprising as it seems, women are fit to lead and to rule. In actuality, we’re more fit than most men.”
He laughed, his voice booming up to the stone ceiling. The others chimed in. I rolled my eyes.
“I don’t doubt it,” he finally said.
He was placating me, but I didn’t care. I had no ego that needed appeasing.
I was about to ask my question for a third time when he sobered and said, “Yes, there was a woman, a sorceress, who could control men with their blood. She and another Roman helped me escape the city.”
“What was her—”
“Her name was Lela.”
I couldn’t suppress the sound of distress in my throat.
I bit my lip and closed my eyes, my heart pounding so hard I was sure it would break through flesh and bones and spill out onto the stone floor before this barbarian king.
Once I’d caught my breath, I opened my eyes, finding Alaric’s golden gaze on me. He remained still and watchful.
“Did she say where she was going?” I asked, voice quivering. I cleared my throat.
He shook his head and my stomach plummeted. “Trajan didn’t tell me where they were going.”
“Who is this Trajan? The Roman?”
“A Roman tribune of the senate.”
I scoffed. “And she was friends with this man? She helped him?”
“They helped each other. They were more than friends. They were mates.”
It was my turn to laugh. “You’re joking. My sister is human, not a beast who couples with dragons.”
Besides, I didn’t believe in all of that mating shit.
Maksim fucked every woman he met, and he wasn’t sure the divine mate bond actually existed either.
In my opinion, it was simply another way for a dragon male to dominate a woman.
Tell her she’s your mate, and what more could you do? The gods said so.
It was all horseshit and nonsense.
“Your sister?” Alaric quirked a brow in that teasing manner again. “How long has it been since you’ve seen your sister?”
“More than four years,” I said through gritted teeth. “You have no idea where they might have gone. Even the direction? I’m a good hunter.” I could find them.
He examined me, that keen intellect of his working again. Finally, he said, “I don’t know where they’ve gone but I do know where they’ll be in a few weeks.”
“Where?” I demanded, taking a step closer.
He smiled, which made him appear more feral. “Right here, Viper Queen. In my dank and grimy cave.”
I read the truth in his eyes, though I could hardly believe my great fortune. Perhaps the gods were finally paying attention to me, not that I ever gave them the time of day.
“Then I’m staying here too. Until they come.”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid not. We don’t allow invaders, even small parties of them led by fascinating warrior women, to hang about camp doing nothing.”
“I can teach your men how to fight. How to properly fight.”
His men chuckled behind him, but he didn’t. Still, he didn’t accept my offer.
“I can see that you don’t believe I have such skills. How about you put me up against your best fighter? If I beat him, then you let us stay. In return for shelter and food, I will teach your men what I know.”
His golden eyes flared brighter as he held out a hand, large and callused with scars on his knuckles. “Shake my hand and it’s a bargain.”
A whisper of magic swept through me, cooling my eagerness.
It wasn’t fear that caused me to hesitate, but the presence of ethereal energy—of divine magic—coursing through my blood.
It was as if by sealing this bargain, I wouldn’t simply be making a deal.
I’d be taking a path led by the Fates down an unknown road. One I might not be able to return from.
My shades pressed close again, their dark presence wafting over me, raising a chill on my skin. I shivered and willed them to back off.
“Anya?” Alaric quirked that superior brow at me, still holding out his hand.
Whatever the Fates had in store, I didn’t give a damn. I didn’t really believe in them anyway. All that mattered was finding my sister.
So I reached my arm forward and placed my hand in the much larger one of the Visigoth dragon king. “It’s a bargain.”