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Sana’a.
She was here on Katáne.
He sensed her spirit on Kos.
He’d tagged it the second his hawkstone had swept the burg.
He had no idea why.
He could only surmise she was back to finish the job she’d started.
Worse still, she was invading his dreams, like she had last night, twisting him into knots with her bewitching essence.
Her soul was a swirling sea of danger and desire, pulling him deeper into its depths until he was lost in her wild and untamed energy.
Even this far off, a city, valley and desolation apart, it radiated with the intensity of a thousand suns, engulfing the íkan-laden atmosphere in an intense blaze of passion and power.
Her presence on the planet was relentless and all-consuming, like the sun on a scorching summer day.
Her essence trailed from the marble city, caressing his head, scalp and shoulders.
Her fierce, unadulterated vitality tangled with his own.
She was a wildfire, radiating a blinding, intense white heat threatening to consume everything in its path. He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame, and his fantasies of her were becoming a hindrance to his clear thinking.
But he needed to maintain his composure and not let his allure to her hinder his purpose.
He had a planet load of strife to overcome, a promise to fulfil, and nothing left over for distractions.
Killen cursed under his breath. Existing on the same plane with her without wanting to own her would be a battle of wills that would test his resolve to the limit.
Yet, his traitorous soul longed to discover what flames lay within her fiery depths.
However, his logical brain told him he needed to focus on why she was here.
Of crucial importance was whether she was still a threat to his existence.
He sensed she was a storm in Shotelai form, a spark-filled squall that would consume him whole, leaving nothing but ashes in her wake.
Chapter 11
The sun slanted into an íkhara packed with groups of fit and muscled warriors clustered around fighting rings in the heat of a humid Kos summer.
Skin stuck to skin, the slick floor surface, and the thin workout gear. Each fighter whisked a washcloth from the back of their waistbands to wipe away the never-ending sweat.
A series of feather fans oscillated at each corner of the vast training chamber where fighters gathered to cool down, chug down water and sigh as cool air washed over their heated bodies.
In one cage, Sana’a worked with Kaniz on the subtle arts of blade combat, comparing their two disciplines as they went along.
Many of the techniques the master shared about the sab?r koya and how Katáne’s k?thi and kavaliers used them were ancient, representing eons of a continuous tradition.
While most drills were dedicated to the koya, they also practised with a grisly assortment of weapons.
From deadly daggers to pole-axes and shields.
They even worked with bare hands, grappling and sparring with bags of rocks.
Via Kaniz, Sana’a received approval from the k?thi guild guru to use her metsai crushers to manoeuvre mid-air and match the winged proficiency of her combatants.
