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heal. Stay at my side; I will do what I can to keep you as sheltered as possible. Aureliana and her male arrive soon. They will protect you as you do what you must. You know what lies within your hands, within your heart. Use it. Trust. Every Dardaptoan healer of your Kind has one thing in common—you possess a piece of the greatest healer’s soul. I know this; I see it in you. It is the soul of my son Dekimos; it shines bright in you. Brighter than so many others. Do not waste his gift, but embrace it.”
    But how was she supposed to do that?
     
     

    Chapter 7
     
     
     
    WHEN next Koios opened his eyes he knew something was different around him. For one thing, his skin seemed too small, too tight, and too damned soft to be his. He was in a long hallway, and it was mere seconds before he recognized it.
    The south tower of his castle. Where the girl had been kept so many months ago. He looked down at his hand, expecting to see the ring his father had given him when he’d assumed the high seat along with his brother so many years ago.
    Instead he saw small, pale fingers and light skin.
    A hand that trembled. And one that he recognized.
    He tried not to curse.
    The Laquazzeana had somehow put him   in   the body of the healer girl.
    Someone yanked on his hands—her hands—and he realized they were bound. And far too tightly. He wanted to strike out at the one pulling him along but he couldn’t.
    Ramorakin had a hand fisted in the girl’s tunic and he jerked her around far harder than any male should ever touch a woman. Was this how the slave keeper always treated the females?
    An open palm landed against Koios’ cheek, his   gamata’s   cheek. He felt the force behind the blow all the way down to his knees. What was Ramorakin trying to do? Why did he feel it necessary? The girl hadn’t spoken, nor had she resisted the slave keeper at all. So why the abuse?
    Koios could hear her thoughts; or was he thinking them along with her?
    Absolute terror, pain, and betrayal. Mixed with hope.
    The hope was what hurt him the most.
    The instant he had spoken her as his   gamata   ancient forces that no one in Relaklonos had ever been able to identify had started weaving his heart and hers together. Only if she denied him for years—perhaps centuries—would those bonds start to lessen. That she had suffered so greatly hurt   him.
    That he was the cause of such hurt sickened him. It took everything he had to keep the girl’s body from retching.
    Ramorakin wrapped his hand in the long dark hair that Koios now knew was softer than the finest silk and yanked so hard Koios knew handfuls of Bronwen’s hair would be broken—if her scalp was not bleeding as well.
    The girl was crying now and trying to fight; that just seemed to enrage Ramorakin even further. He slammed Bronwen into the white rock wall so hard Koios felt her ribs crack.
    He would kill Ramorakin as soon as he was able. As soon as the Laquazzeana freed him from Bronwen’s body the slave keeper would be dead. And Koios would make sure the male knew exactly why.
    Her tears fell unchecked to the tunic she wore.
    Ramorakin finally spoke. “You cry   now ? You will cry more for me when the king is finished with you. He will forget about you, and you will be   mine.   To do with as I wish, Dardaptoan.”
    She was dragged farther down the hall and toward the last room. Koios recognized it; he’d ordered it left empty until repairs could be made within it. It was not fit for a prisoner of any ilk. There was no glass in the window—a long gone sorcerer had destroyed the windows, and the rock wall surrounding them. Instead, thick metal bars prevented anyone from escaping through the hole.
    The room was too damned cold for even a warrior prisoner; why was Ramorakin putting a Dardaptoan female there? Everyone knew the Gaian Kind was far too susceptible to low temperatures. Had Ramorakin been trying to kill her from the onset?
    There was no bed in the room, just a pile