pdf - From the Ashes.PDF by Linda Eberharter Read Free Book Online

touched hers.
    “You must not,” the Lady warned.
    Fiach aligned Cilia until their heat mingled and their Phoenixes pushed reassuring warmth and much needed energy into each partner. She reached her hand to thread through his ebony tresses to feel the small quills and the buds of feathers filling in across his scalp.
    The Lady sighed, as though they tried her patience. Fiach stepped away but let his fingers trail down her cheek. “I love you. No matter what else comes, know that.”
    His eyes were pained and full of worry. She wanted to comfort him, but his mother stepped between them and led him away. As the doors closed, Cilia thought she heard her say, “The trial has begun.” Their voices were softer now, too far away for Cilia to know if what she had heard was real or imagined.

Chapter Four
    Without Fiach to share it, the room had lost its appeal. Cilia stepped to the bed and tested the mattress with her palm. It was soft and springy; the fabric smelled like fresh flowers and rain-kissed grass. She crawled up and settled on her favored side. As her head hit the pillow, her ears popped. Her eyes dropped shut, and her breathing almost stopped. She was still conscious and aware, but paralyzed and terrified. She wanted to cry out for Fiach, but her lips refused to move.
    A voice whispered, “Do not fear, child. This is the first phase.”
    Suddenly, all the talk of trials and tests crashed down on her, and all of Fiach’s assurances evaporated. In her mind, she was sitting in a black void, perched on a spindly chair carved from gnarled tree branches. Silver eyes gleamed in the darkness around her, and the soft cadence of a chant filled air. A cowled figure glided forward and spoke.
    “We will ask you a series of questions. Answer them honestly. If you value the bond to your mate, you will be truthful. Do not attempt to escape; if you do, you forfeit your right to the Noce .” He uncoiled the long black length of a leather whip. Its serpentine tail danced nimbly across the floor just before her feet.
    She nodded mutely, and he asked the first question, “What right has Fiach to be loved?”
    Cilia waited, but not further clarification was made. The figure awaited her answer as the braided leather length writhed on the floor below her in silent menace, daring her to run. She licked her lips. “He has the same right as every creature to love and earn love in return.”
    The hooded head bobbed and blended into the background, passing the whip’s handle off to the next figure to approach. The black handle hung loosely from his fingers, as though he regretted its presence there. He poised his question with little inflection.
    “What right have you to be loved?”
    Cilia’s heart accelerated; her mind flew ahead to try and sense a trap but was unable to find one. If there was a hidden meaning to the questions, she was at a loss to discover it. “As I said, we all have the right to give and earn love as we can. It’s not a matter of whether you deserve it, only if you can attain it.”
    The black-robed figures shuffled their ranks again. The whip was offered, but this time waved away. Its black tail slid from view, like a snake retreating to the shelter of tall grass. The cloaked form opened his hand and a dagger settled against his palm. “Would you bleed for someone you loved?”
    “Yes.”
    He took her hand in his, and she noticed an intricate tattoo on the fleshy meat that joined his thumb and pointer. He pricked her finger with the blade.
    Fire erupted around the dagger as her blood beaded on the tip. “I wonder, would you die for someone you loved?”
    The question was harder, but the answer equally easy to give. “Yes.”
    Cold hands twined in her hair and arched her neck. She felt the iced edge of the blade as it drew a line of blood from her neck.
    “Are you certain? Death here is quite permanent.”
    “Yes,” she said again. Then the horrible sensation of her neck being sliced open overtook her; she