Binding Ties The Sentinel Wars - Shannon K. Butcher Page 0,1

and how willing they’d been to do whatever it took to keep their baby safe.

But Joseph hadn’t forgotten. He knew what they would face outside these walls, and the fate that awaited their son if Joseph wasn’t able to appease them.

Synestryn demons wouldn’t care what the boy’s parents thought or felt. All they cared about was draining as much blood as possible from their son before tossing his remains to their beasts to pick his bones clean.

It took considerable effort, but Joseph managed not to growl at them when he said, “Perhaps you’d be happier if your son didn’t attend Lyka’s class. It’s not required, you know.”

“But he loves it,” said Darren. “The only way he’ll stop whining at us is if you shut the class down altogether.”

“Surely the other parents have complained,” added the mother.

“There aren’t a whole lot of parents here,” Joseph felt the need to remind them. “Most of them died trying to protect their children. You are among the lucky ones.”

The way her mouth turned down made it clear she didn’t see herself as lucky right now. “It’s teaching violence. The kids are too young to learn such horrible methods.”

“I’m sure it’s not all that bad,” said Joseph. “A little self-defense training is a good idea.”

The parents shared a meaningful look before the father spoke up. “A little self-defense? That’s what she told you she was teaching?”

“It is.”

“Have you watched her lessons?” asked the mother. “At all?”

Joseph shook his head. “No, but I have a feeling that’s next on my list of things to do.” The list was already a mile long, but the lure of seeing Lyka again was one he couldn’t resist.

He dismissed the parents and went to the outdoor play area that had been set up for the kids. By the time he made it through the twisting halls of Dabyr, he’d been stopped three times and told about new issues that demanded his attention.

The grinding pain behind his eyes—his constant companion—grew worse with each problem heaped on the pile. He wasn’t even halfway through his twenty-year term as leader of his people, and the strain was already tearing at him. He bowed under the weight of all the lives that depended on him to be smarter, stronger and deadlier than their enemy. Of all the hundreds of things he needed to accomplish, dealing with a petty human squabble over a children’s class should have been so far down on his list of priorities that he couldn’t even see it.

And yet here he was, drawn to it—not by a sense of duty to the human parents, but instead by the idea of seeing the female Slayer who took up far too much space in his thoughts.

Lyka’s class was nearing its end by the time he finally made it outside. The sun was high overhead, making her hair look like spun gold. Even though she was a Slayer and practically immune to the cold, she still covered everything but her face and hands under a layer of clothing. The fabric clung to her skin, outlining curves that had kept Joseph awake and aching more nights than he cared to admit with the need to touch her. He’d never once laid a finger on her in any way, not even in greeting. Every time he got within arm’s reach of her, she would back off so fast he was afraid she’d hurt herself trying to get away from him.

He would have taken it personally if not for the fact that she treated all of his men the same way. No one got close to Lyka Phelan. Period.

She was a Slayer, sent here to serve as a hostage to guarantee that her brother would honor the treaty struck with Joseph. In return, Joseph had sent Carmen, the young woman he’d claimed as his own daughter, to stay with the Slayers. It was an old-fashioned way of ensuring both sides upheld the treaty, but one that had worked well for centuries.

And like it or not, there really was no other choice but to end their hostilities. Their two races had been at odds for too long, sacrificing too much time and too many resources fighting each other when their real enemy was growing stronger every day.

If Joseph was honest with himself, having Lyka here was no hardship. As touchy as she could be, the distraction she offered was a welcome respite from the weight of his station.

The high glass ceilings and openness of the central dining and