I heard the rustle of Balen’s movement behind me. I stiffened. He didn’t touch me.

“Were you going to tell me?” My question sounded cold and hard. I felt betrayed by him; the one I’d allowed into my heart, the one I’d trusted.

“It wasn’t for me to tell,” he said, so close so that my hair moved with his breath.

I spun around. “It was for a stranger to tell then?” I laughed. My tone dripped with sarcasm. “Well, that makes perfect sense.”

“It was through a stranger, aye. But it was the goddess who told you, Anu driving Deirdre just as Eburacon said she would. He told me when the time was right, the goddess would reveal all.”

“It’s not Anu’s choice! Oh, she may be the great goddess of my family, but she has ignored me my whole life. She has no rights with me. This is my life, Balen. My entire life has been decided by others, information shared only when they wanted.”

I backed away from him. My fingernails dug harder into my palms, but the pain felt good. My anger felt good. “I’m tired of being a thing to others. No one will decide for me ever again.”

My voice came out deep and powerful. Determined and forceful. It was my own, but different, altered. “No longer. No more.” My heart hammered so fast.

Energy hovered around Balen; I saw it in the air, like pinpricks of glowing light, and I wanted it for my own. Within my mind, I lured it as one would when tempting a child or frightened animal. But this power, Balen’s power, was steadfast and strong; it needed to be lured, like a lover. Aye, like seduction. My thoughts changed. I smiled.

It came, and danced before me, swirling, gathering, and then it flowed through my body.

Dark whispers surged into my mind. I recoiled, suddenly bereft of Balen’s warm power and filled with a terrible black emptiness.

You’ve had the power all along. Take it.

Soft laughter. Nox.

But it was just a whisper, nothing more. And then it was gone and the power I’d lured from Balen encircled me once more.

I took it. I pulled it in, gathering it, using it. The loose strands of my hair moved. My cloak billowed around my feet and legs. I burned all over.

My gaze collided with Balen’s. He stood with his feet apart, a glint of fierce readiness shone in his eyes. Damn him for all he knew. For making me feel for him. Damn him for everything.

I tunneled all my focus at him, gathering the power until it bloated, threatening to spill out. I cocked an eyebrow at him and smirked. Because I had power. I was Danaan, too. I had something to prove. And I had to let it out.

The release of energy, of fire, flew from me like a great whoosh of air, sending me staggering back. It slammed into Balen sending him off his feet and into one of the carved wooden columns. It splintered from the impact, the echo carrying to every corner of the chamber.

I could barely catch my breath.

A strange sense of emptiness settled inside me where his power had been. And weakness, so much weakness. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to shake away the dizziness.

Breathe in, breathe out, I told myself, struck by what I’d done. I’d taken his power from him and wielded it as my own. Dear Dagda.

I swiped away a few sweat-dampened strands of hair that stuck to my forehead and cheeks as Balen got to his feet.

We faced each other again. I couldn’t read his expression, but I saw his chest rising and falling, the slight flaring of his nostrils. He swiped a hand over his mouth, set his jaw, and crossed the distance between us in long, angry strides.

Instinctively, I backed up.

“Don’t ever do that again.” His voice came out ragged, but still forceful. He didn’t stop until my back pressed against the wall. “I did not betray you. I did what I was advised to do, what I thought best.”

“You should have told me.” I swallowed hard. “What else is have you been advised to keep from me? Anything?” I couldn’t shake the feeling there was more; I’d seen it in his look earlier.

My question angered him, for his eyes shifted from amber to flame in a blink. His body leaned into mine. I had nowhere to run. “Nothing, Deira,” he said, on a regretful exhale. “There is nothing else.”

The hurt in his voice told me he lied, but it also told me it pained him—whatever this lie was.

One of his hands braced flat on the wall near my head and the other came up to cup my cheek. I couldn’t think when he was this close, when his scent surrounded me, and his breath warmed my cheek.

“This...” He kissed me gently then drew back just enough to say, “Wasn’t written.” He kissed me again. “You and I. We decided that.”

Hurt squeezed my chest. I closed my eyes against the tears that rose from his gentleness, my grief, his secrets...

“Please, don’t weep, Deira.”

He gave me small kisses, excruciatingly slow and gentle. Each one lingered a fraction longer than the one before. His lips were incredibly soft against mine, like the finest silk. My lips became wet and swollen from my tears and his kisses.

Then, his tongue flicked out and trailed across my bottom lip. A fire lit in the pit of my stomach. I moaned and gripped his waist hard, wanting to feel the weight of him, the press of him against me.

The sound of hurried footsteps and a stifled gasp froze our kiss.

Balen withdrew. I colored fiercely. Liath fell to his knees. “Forgive the intrusion. We heard a crash and...”

I could only imagine what they must have thought when the column splintered. A quick glance at Balen’s dark scowl told me he wasn’t at all pleased with the sudden interruption. In fact, he looked ready to light fire to the entire temple.

Despite my embarrassment, I straightened my cloak, nudged Balen away then approached Liath.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” I told the quaking man. “Please stand.”

Hesitantly, he lifted his head, his eyes unsure. He rose, glancing nervously from Balen to me.

“I’m sorry about the column,” I said.

Stunned, he blinked and opened his mouth but no words came out. He shut it then tried again. “You are gracious, Dia. It is I who am sorry. For the interruption. It won’t happen again.”

“No, really—”

“Oh, for Dagda’s sake,” Balen breathed.

I glanced over my shoulder to see him looking very annoyed and impatient. His hands were on his hips and his scowl remained. “Next time you hear a crash, or screams,” he gave me a pointed look even though he spoke to Liath, “don’t come running.”

“Of course. Apologies.” Liath gave another bow and fled the room.

“That wasn’t very godly of you. The poor man was frightened.”

“As he should be.”

Desire hung heavy in the air.

Weariness settled over Balen’s features and he let out a gruff sigh. “Perhaps we should save this for another time.”

The draining feeling, which came from using my power, had returned. I hadn’t taken time to come to terms with what I had done. Of what I now knew I was capable of.

I had power. I had no idea how to use it or manipulate it, but it was there all the same. And this time, I hadn’t harmed. Balen’s power was stronger than the small animals I’d killed. I could take from him and not hurt him. I studied him; at least he didn’t appear harmed.

“You’re right. I could use a hot bath and something to eat,” I said as the full force of my exhaustion hit. My eyelids became heavy, and I wanted nothing more than to sleep for a very long time. I gave in and allowed my eyes to close for just a spell.

Balen’s arms slipped under my back and knees, lifting me off my feet. I snuggled close, wanting to curl into him and seek out all the warmth he possessed. “Did I hurt you? Before?” I asked.

“Were you trying to?”

“No. Yes. Perhaps a little.”

His chuckle rumbled through his chest as he carried me through the sumptuous private temple to the bed chambers. I barely registered my body sinking into the mattress or the soft pillow reaching up to cradle my head.

CHAPTER 17

They lied to you, Deira. They always lie. How can you believe them now?

And Balen, he is the worst of all. Lying to you. Seducing you. Do you think he will want you, you whose power steals from his? Do you think he will want a child from you? A child with human blood?

He plays the champion. Ask him about his succession, Deira.

Ask of his honor on the battlefield.

Ask him…

I sat up slowly, Nox’s words ringing in my mind and meandering through my body like a warm wind. Heavy sleep clung to me and made me more tired than I’d been before. Perhaps I’d slept too long . . . or not long enough.

So now he tried a different tactic. When I was asleep, I couldn’t push him out.

I rubbed my eyes and let out a long, lazy yawn. A fire had been lit in the large hearth and night had fallen.

My muscles were stiff as I slid from the bed and padded barefoot across the stones to the woven rug in front of the fire to sit in the chair, wondering why Nox bothered with me at all.

Why tease and tempt me? Why distort my views?

He had to be incredibly powerful to project his thoughts into mine. It was unheard of. But then, most Danaans had no knowledge of Nox of Annwn, his history, where he drew his power. Only that he had ruled the Deadlands and the Place of Souls longer than anyone could remember.

While I didn’t believe Nox had my best interests in mind, his comments about Balen bothered me.

I also knew that I had to be realistic with my emotions. Balen was the first male I’d kissed, the first to bring about intense feelings in me. I didn’t want to be blinded by those feelings. I couldn’t afford to be. Nox was laying the foundations of doubt, planting seeds that would grow and overtake the truth.

Balen was a champion. He didn’t pretend. He was honorable, steady, and despite the fact he withheld the truth of my father along with the others, he’d done it for good and not out of maliciousness.

I stared at the flames for a long time, so lost in thought I didn’t notice Deirdre until she cleared her throat to gain my attention.