The Mare Year of the LiliesTorrid SeasonThe StreamletAltsas Mavli  I LAY SPRAWLED BENEATH HIM. Totally vulnerable to attack, he stands staring down at me like the angel of death. His lips are curled into something crooked and twisted. The plead escapes my lips before I can help it. "Cirok. Please." He surprises me, throws the dagger beside me. It's blade is still coated with blood — his blood. "Rise, Mavy. I have not come to hurt you." My blood is pounding in my ears, my heart is galloping like wild stallions. But I rise shakily like a young calf, his eyes don't leave mine, they gleam like a dark jewe

The Tornado Year of the LiliesTorrid SeasonStreets of AltsasAltsas Isla  I'VE NEVER BEEN MORE PETRIFIED IN MY LIFE. I can't believe that I'm in the middle of a wild mob. A hand flies through the air and lands on my jaw, giving me a teeth shattering blow. I taste blood. Another hand slaps me hard across the face and my eyes sting with tears. Zaps sizzle in my veins reminding me of who I am; reminding me I've healed enough to unleash my power upon these people so I can be free again. I will myself, probing inside me to allow the power inside me to break free. A sharp pain erupts in my stomach as someone punches me hard. Grunting, I fall to my knees and a hard blow sends me reeling as someone hits my back

The Makeover Year of the LiliesTorrid SeasonSomewhere in the PalaceAltsas Isla  THOUGH I WON'T BE MEETING with the King till tomorrow (says Namir) I'll undergo a cleansing and makeover today. I stare at him blankly as he said the words. This most be a joke. Namir led me through various passages and corridors and a dozen flights of stairs to this room. I can hardly remember the way here. He gestures for me to sit on a human-sized cushion, the soft cushion sinks under my weight. I feel like I'm sitting on a cloud. I let my fleeting glance run around the four corners of the room; it is quite big, bigger than our hut back at home, it has a dresser, a cupboard, a ceramic bathtub in the middle of the room, drums of water, a stoo

The Dance Year of the RosesFloral SeasonLysia's bedroomAltsas  Lyza  IT'S MIDNIGHT. I can already hear  the hum of the happy crowd from the hall many floors beneath my bedroom. Rosa has managed to coax me into an ecru gown made out of satin. The hems are blood red and Rosa has fastened a matching blood red veil to my hair. "What's the point?"'I moan. Rosa gives me a puzzled look. "What's the point of the kohl to line my eyes and the henna on my skin?"  Rosa stares at me with something like pity in her eyes," Lyza—" I caught in immediately to stop her. "No one will ever want me, Rosa. I

The Deal Year of the RosesFloral SeasonThe Gardens, the PalaceAltsas  Lyza  MY MOANS ARE THROATY and deep. They erupt from my mouth in pants. He kisses a trail down my throat, nibbling and licking as he goes. One of his hands are fondling my breast through my dress and the other is playing with my braid. He stops his trail at my cleavage and raises his head to look at me. I cup his face in my hands, pulling him down with me and I kiss his lips gently, teasing him with small bites as the kiss progresses. One of his hand finds my zip and he zips the dress down. He pushes the straps off my shoulders and I'm revealed to him.&