smiled almost sadly, her teeth perfect and white. Once again Daniel felt the impact of her fascination, the seductive call of predator to prey, the effortless ability to bring “lesser” creatures under her control. Once again he shook it off.
“You came secretly, without declaring yourself,” she said. “Why would you take such an approach?”
Avoiding her gaze, he stared at the tabletop. “I had to be sure,” he said.
“Sure of what?”
“That the stories about Tanis being a refuge were true.”
Isis spread her own delicate hands on the table. “I can assure you that they are.” She spoke with sympathy, and Daniel was aware that his body was responding to her naturally seductive body and the warm scent of her skin. His mind was clear enough, but his heart was beating too fast, and another part of his anatomy was very much at attention.
“What are you afraid of?” he asked, bringing his body back under restraint.
It was the wrong thing to say—certainly nothing a wary and frightened former serf would have asked. Maintaining the balance was tricky at best.
He wasn’t sure he could keep up the pretense.
She studied him, her dark eyes intent on his face. “I told you—we make certain that newcomers can live with our rules and will be comfortable beginning a new life here,” she said. “The same concerns apply for both humans and Opiri. But there are those who have come to observe our city in secret so that they can take reports back to their people.”
“You mean spies?” he asked in a much quieter voice, edged with alarm. “Why would anyone do that?”
“Some of them fear us, Daniel. We believe that the Enclaves and the Citadels throughout the west have learned what we have accomplished and may regard us as a threat to the separate worlds they have built, though those worlds are built upon hostility and a truce that might fail at any moment.”
Isis was right, Daniel thought. He remembered the mad Bloodlord in the northwest who had nearly started another war because he had stolen half-blood children and recruited rogue Freebloods—lordless Opiri—with the intent of attacking the Citadels and, eventually, the human Enclaves, as well. The Armistice had always balanced on the head of a pin, and a stiff wind could blow it off and plunge the world back into chaos.
“Do you think some Citadel or Enclave would attack you?” he asked.
“We do not know. But it is possible they may send agents to observe us, so you see that we must screen everyone who seeks sanctuary in Tanis. There can be no exceptions.”
So they must have screened Ares, Daniel thought. “What do you want from me?” he asked with feigned anxiety.
Her expression turned grave. “At the causeway,” she said, “you said you escaped from Vikos.”
“Yes,” he said, after a calculated hesitation.
“That is at least a five-hundred-mile journey,” Isis said, “much of it through mountainous territory. You came so far alone?”
“Yes,” Daniel said, looking past her at the drab wall.
“And your supplies?”
“I left them behind when I came into the city.”
“Your clothes are not too worn. Did you steal them?”
Daniel didn’t answer.
“You must have had help along the way.”
“There are...humans hiding everywhere,” he said. “Trying to survive and keep away from Opir hunters.”
“And none would come with you?”
Daniel shook his head. “They were afraid this was a trap.”
“But you were not?”
“In Vikos,” Daniel said, “there were rumors that humans here were more than—”
He broke off, but Isis completed the sentence for him. “Chattel?” she said, her lush mouth setting in a thin line.
“Yes.”
“And you chose to risk coming here, based only upon a rumor?”
Daniel swallowed, as if debating whether or not to continue. “It was a risk I was willing to take.” His jaw tightened. “But I will never let anyone take me prisoner again.”
“I understand,” Isis murmured.
Daniel imagined that he heard pity in her voice. He had never needed or accepted pity from any human or Nightsider, and he wanted none of hers.
“Do you think I am a spy?” he asked. “Who would I spy for? The Enclave that cast me out as a criminal and sent me into slavery? Vikos, where I was treated no better than an animal?”
“It seems unlikely,” she said soothingly.
“Very unlikely.” He laughed with half-feigned bitterness. “What do I have to do to prove myself?”
“We will keep you in a quiet room for a time, and others will speak to you. Once we are certain you are no threat, you will have the opportunity to—”
Daniel jumped out of his chair, nearly knocking it over. “You’ll lock me up?”
“You will be comfortable. Nobody will—”
“No manacles,” he said, working his fists. It was barely an act.
She rose slowly. “We have no intention of binding you. That is not done here, except when it is absolutely necessary.” She moved toward him, her white-and-gold robes swirling around her feet. Before he could back away, she touched his hand, her fingers—warm and soft and gentle—stroking his arm. Her influence washed over and through him.
“You must understand that not all Opiri are like the ones you knew in Vikos,” she said. “I will prove it to you.” She released his hand. “Can you trust me?”
Daniel knew how easily she could make most humans accept anything she said, do anything she bid without the need for compulsion.
He let her believe she was succeeding.
“I trust you,” he said slowly.
“I am Opir,” she said.
He put the length of the room between them, keeping his gaze unfocused and his voice on the edge of panic. “You have...dark hair,” he stammered. “Your eyes...”
“Nevertheless,” she said, “I am what you humans call a Nightsider, and I would never do you harm.”
Don’t overplay it, Daniel told himself. “You tricked me,” he said, pressing himself against the wall.
“It is easier for new humans if one of their own kind introduces
