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  Emily had pushed the thoughts away. He wouldn’t do that. He promised! He’s probably out there waiting, wanting to make sure I’m okay.

  Anyway, that was what she had to believe to pull off the plan that had formed in her mind. The plan she was about to put into effect right now.

  Lifting her chin, Emily gave herself one last look in the mirror.

  “Are you ready, my Khalla?” Lit’aal called through the closed fresher door.

  “Oh, yes,” Emily called back. “You better believe it—I’m ready.” She opened the door. “Let’s go.”

  The Sacred Grove was just as she remembered it except the green and purple trees had been decorated with small, white lights that winked and twinkled beautifully. At first Emily thought they were some kind of Christmas lights until she got a better look and realized they weren’t strung together on any kind of a wire. In fact, they appeared to be some kind of lightning bug type creatures. Except instead of the lights being in their abdomen, they were on two long stalks sticking out of their heads. Were they the creatures’ eyes?

  Before she could find out, a kind of procession started and she was walking down the aisle between the trees with Lit’aal right behind her.

  Waiting at the end of the aisle, standing in front of the huge statue of the Goddess of the Kindred, was Mother Chundra. The High Priestess wore a stern, no-nonsense look on her face. She was flanked on either side by the two male priests who had greeted them when Emily and Tragar first came to the Temple. They looked solemn and wise but Emily was sure they were just window dressing—the High Priestess was the only one with real power here and she knew it.

  Turra was standing by the priest on Mother Chundra’s right with a sour expression on her face. When Emily caught her eyes by accident, she looked away with a grimace. Apparently she was still pissed off that Emily had ejected her from her room yesterday—not that Emily gave a damn.

  On Mother Chundra’s left, Daro was waiting patiently, wearing a white robe that looked a little like a toga. Emily thought her would-be chosen mate looked sad, though he was trying not to show it. She saw his golden eyes flick over to Lit’aal with longing. The expression confirmed what Emily already knew—she wasn’t the one he really wanted. Well, good—he wasn’t the one for her either and knowing that made what she was going to do much easier.

  They reached the end of the aisle and she stood facing Daro while Mother Chundra cleared her throat. She waited until the assembled priestesses quieted down and began to speak.

  “We are gathered here today in the sight of the Goddess to join this Khalla-to-be with her chosen mate, who—”

  “Excuse me,” Emily interrupted loudly.

  Mother Chundra glared daggers at her and kept going.

  “As I was saying, we will join this Khalla-to-be with the mate whom she has chosen—”

  “Don’t you mean the mate you chose for me?” Emily demanded, raising her voice.

  The High Priestess couldn’t ignore her any more.

  “Be silent!” she barked. “The Khalla-to-be is not permitted to speak during the bonding ceremony.”

  “Or have anything to say about who she gets bonded to either, right?” Emily shot back.

  “How dare you profane these holy proceedings?” Mother Chundra’s green-on-green eyes flashed.

  “How dare you tell me who I can and can’t marry—er, bond with,” Emily asked angrily. “You don’t even know me.”

  “All I need to know is that you are a Khalla-to-be which puts you squarely under my authority,” Mother Chundra snapped. “Now be quiet and let us proceed.”

  “So I can be bonded for life to a man I don’t love?” Emily took a step back from the bonding ceremony party and slipped her hand in her sleeve.

  “You are the most obstinate and willful female I have ever had the misfortune to meet!” The High Priestess glared at her. “Guards! I need a gag for this Khalla-to-be so the ceremony can proceed in peace.”

  “I don’t think so…” Emily whipped the long, still oozing stalk of Bitter Sorrow plant out of her sleeve and held it up. “Do you know what this is?”

  Beside her, Lit’aal gave a gasp.

  “Bitter Sorrow! Oh my Khalla, be careful! That is the most dangerous of poisons!”

  “I figured it was,” Emily said grimly. “Stay back or I’ll use it.”

  “You would not dare!” Mother Chundra’s face was filled with disbelief but dancing far back in her green-on-green eyes, Emily thought she also saw fear.

  “Oh, yes I would,” she said grimly. “I’d much rather be dead than bonded to someone I don’t love for life.”

  “Guards—” The High Priestess called but Emily brought the oozing stalk right up to her mouth.

  “Stay back! I can drink the Black Milk before they can get to me. And how will it look to the rest of Rageron when they find out you let a Khalla-to-be kill herself right in the middle of the Sacred Grove?”

  “You insolent girl!” Mother Chundra stormed. “You—”

  “Okay, now listen up—this is how it’s going to go,” Emily said, raising her voice so everyone in the room could hear her. “First of all, I’m not getting bonded today. At least, not to Daro.” She spared the tall Beast Kindred a quick glance and saw the shocked look on his face. “No offense to you—you seem like a really nice guy. But you should bond with Lit’aal, not me.”

  “Oh, but my Khalla,” Lit’aal protested. “Daro is your chosen mate—not mine.”

  “No, he’s not. Tragar is.” Emily lifted her chin and glared at the High Priestess. “And you’re going to let me go to him right now or I’ll drink every bit of this nasty-smelling sap. I don’t care if it kills me—it’s better than the life you have planned for me.”

  Mother Chundra glared back at Emily, her eyes cold.

  “You are bluffing,” she said coolly. “You will do no such a thing. So if you are finished making a fool of yourself, we will continue.”

  “Fine—don’t believe me?” Emily lifted the ragged, oozing end of the plant stem to her lips. The acerbic scent of Drain-o hit her nose and she winced but didn’t let the smell stop her. Inside she could feel the other turning restlessly. Emily expected her to protest but instead, she felt only approval.

  “Do it—you’re right,” the other whispered in her brain. “Death is better than a life of slavery and a bonding without love. Anything is better than losing Tragar.”

  Emily was glad they were in agreement for once. She tilted the stalk and squeezed, waiting for the first oily drop of Black Milk to fall on her tongue…

  “Stop!” The deep, male voice thundered through the Sacred Grove. It startled Emily so much she nearly dropped the stalk of Bitter Sorrow. Looking up, she saw a commotion in the assembled priestesses who had gathered to watch the ceremony. As she watched, they parted, their pure white robes separating like waves in the ocean to let someone through. A large figure dressed all in black came striding down the aisle.

  Emily’s heart leapt.

  “Tragar!”

  “Emily…my Khalla.” He reached the front of the aisle and dropped to one knee before her. “Forgive me,” he said, looking up earnestly into her face. “Forgive me for not doing all in my power yesterday to stay with you.”

  “I forgive you—you’re here now,” Emily whispered.

  “Which does you no good, since I will simply have the Temple Guards remove you again. This time, permanently,” Mother Chundra declared. “Guards—”

  “Stop!” Tragar roared again. He rose to his feet and faced the High Priestess head-on. “I invoke the Right of Conflict to win this Khalla-to-be as my mate.”

  “You what?” The High Priestess looked completely nonplussed. “There is no such thing. You cannot—”

  “Actually, High Priestess, there is and he can.” Brother Hurx—the Council member with the long gray beard spoke up. He and Brother Gr’nir had been whispering together behind the priestess’s back and now he stepped forward.

  “Wha