“One of these children was a boy named Bora Zaire. A very odd young man, who spoke nonsense, and was prone to tears and fits of rage. An idiot, many thought. And one day, a cyclone approached his settlement. While others fled in fear, this young man stood in the strengthening winds, staring as though in challenge. And the cyclone faded in strength and size until it disappeared.

  “And Bora Zaire died.

  “He was only the first to die in this way. The same happened in other settlements. An event would threaten, and some young man or woman—always one who was considered strange and odd—would stare the event down. The event would disappear, and the young person would die. No one could understand why.

  “We know now that these young people were Sources. We now know that these were people with a special talent, an ability to feel the approach of an event, to reach into that event with their minds. They could draw the forces of the events into their very bodies, draining the events of all their power until they simply disappeared. The forces of these events could be directed away, harmlessly.

  “This we call channeling, and we now know channeling the forces is fatally hard on the body. The heart beats too fast. The mind tears itself apart. The forces are displaced in a manner most unnatural, and they curve back on the Source to crush that fragile human shell.

  “We know this now, because this is what Shields tell us.

  “Nirah Kadaf is the first Shield we have in the history books. A quiet, serious young woman who couldn’t like another young woman in her settlement, a strange girl named Mandir Olsworth. When their settlement was threatened by a tidal wave, and Mandir felt compelled to stand out in it, Nirah stood beside her. The tidal wave sank harmlessly into the soil. And neither woman died.

  “For while Sources can reach into the heart of an event, Shields can reach into the minds of Sources. They can slow the heartbeat of a channeling Source, calm the mind, and erect their own barriers around a Source to protect that Source from the curling forces.

  “Stories of this pair of women spread wide and reached the ear of Sylva Westphal, a holder of the north. She sent men out to collect these two women, and others to search for more of their kind, to bring them to her hold. And once they were there, she hired healers and people of learning to study these young people and determine what they were.

  “Years of study revealed little. There was no one physical or mental characteristic shared by all. The talent did not appear to be inherited. Nor could it be learned by others. It was something inborn and completely unpredictable.

  “What was learned, however, was that Sources and Shields, when they were brought together, bonded. And bonded Sources and Shields worked better together than those who were not bonded. And the bonding was as unpredictable as the talent itself.

  “Holder Westphal continued to search for people of these talents. She housed them, fed them, and then charged for their services. Those with the money to pay the fee could have their homes and settlements protected from the natural events of this world. Those who could not were destroyed.

  “Many protested of this to the Empress, for all perceived the talents of the Sources and Shields to be vital to the survival and prosperity of the whole world. So the Empress demanded that all Sources and Shields be turned over to her.

  “Holder Westphal refused.

  “The Empress called on her Imperial Guard.

  “Holder Westphal assembled an army of mercenaries.

  “The Sources and Shields, foreseeing a lifetime of servitude to either the Holder or the Empress, declared they would hide themselves in some deserted place and let the world shake itself to pieces.

  “And so a compromise was reached.

  “The Holder would be pardoned from all charges of treason and be permitted to keep her lands and tenants in exchange for releasing her claim on the Sources and Shields in perpetuity.

  “The Empress would fund the education of all Sources in Shields, in perpetuity, with the vow that no monarch would attempt to control them.

  “The Sources and Shields would be self-regulating, with the understanding that they were obligated to protect all who needed it, with no payment.

  “All others were obligated to house, feed, and clothe all Sources and Shields as it was demanded of them, without payment.

  “And thus was born the Source and Shield Service.

  “Those before us are embarking on the most honorable of tasks, high in privilege and equally high in responsibility. Many can claim to hold the future prosperity of this world in their hands. Only we can say so with literal intent. Without us, cities fall, oceans will swallow the fields, and this world will be laid waste.

  “And because of this, we are held high in the esteem of others, and we are freed from the day-to-day burdens others carry. Some feel that our higher responsibilities also free us from the laws others must follow, from the notions of duty and honor that bind others.” I could have sworn she looked right at Creol then. “This is a fallacy. On the contrary, we have higher expectations placed upon us, not less. The honor of the Source and Shield Service rests on all of you as you take your places in the world beyond the academies. Remember this.”

  There was a moment of silence. I wondered if I would feel irked, were I a regular, to be so thoroughly chided when I hadn’t even done anything wrong.

  “Sources,” said Cloudminder, “Choose your Shields.”

  Finally.

  Source Black stood in front of the first Shield, Patrick Addington. They looked at each other. One exchange of glances was all it took. If nothing happened then, nothing was going to happen, ever.

  Nothing happened. Though Addington was no doubt disappointed, no one would know it by looking at him. Good man. Black took one step down to face the next Shield. Source Bradford, Sebastian, stood before Addington.

  I hoped, desperately, that Creol would not Choose me. For some reason a part of me was certain that he would. The fear had been lurking under my skull for months, ever since I learned that he hadn’t Chosen anyone at the last Match. I repressed a shiver. Refusing a bond was not only physically impossible, it simply wasn’t allowed. Sources and Shields were pretty much owned by the Triple S, and once a Pair had bonded, they worked together, no exceptions.

  Unless they were titled. An aristocrat with a title was considered even more valuable than a Source or a Shield, though not nearly as useful. Unfortunately, I was strictly merchant class, and Creol, he was too crazy to be granted a title. If he Chose me, I was stuck.

  There was a cry of delight from the beginning of the line. Bradford, Sebastian, had found his match in Liam Everette, an excellent Shield. Almost as good as me. A bit of a ponce for a Shield, too, so I had thought he would be the most obvious Choice for Karish, but these things couldn’t be predicted. Everette and Bradford left the line and moved to one side of the Matching Circle, out of everyone’s way, talking animatedly. And the Match went on.

  Black stood in front of me and looked me in the eye. A nice strong, solid look. I was surprised to find myself holding my breath. One moment slid by, and then another. How long was it supposed to take, anyway? Surely it took more than a fleeting glance. Maybe we were supposed to wait a little bit, make sure nothing was going to take hold. It couldn’t be exactly the same for every Pair.

  But Black seemed fairly confident nothing was going to happen. He moved to the Shield on my right, and I smothered my disappointment. Two of my preferences were down.

  Another exclamation of delight. Damn it. I glanced down to the beginning of the line. Source Devereaux had made her match. And it wasn’t me.

  I took a deep breath. And then another. Stay calm, damn it.

  There had been no guarantee that Devereaux would Choose me. Absolutely none at all. To become upset that the results had not been what I hoped would be childish and unproductive.

  Bradford, Viola, stood before me. We looked at each other. Nothing happened. Big surprise.

  Sources Creol and Karish were left. Wonderful selection. I carefully clenched my teeth.

  I watched the two remaining Sources work their way down the line. I watched the Shields react to them, despite their best efforts to appear stoic. When Creol approached, one could perceive the slightest stiffening of neck and shoulders as the Shields did their best not to lower their gaze and avoid the Choice. When Creol left, one could detect the relaxing of the posture as the Shields breathed deeply in relief.

  Karish, on the other hand, brought quickened breath and brightened eyes. There was a subtle shifting of balance to the ball of the foot, as though each Shield were ready to leap into a run at the Source’s word. And when Karish moved on, the slight drooping of the shoulders screamed disappointment.

  And then he was before me. Creol. Staring down at me with horribly piercing, yellowish brown eyes. I steeled my spine and glared right back, daring him to Choose me. He was not going to know I was a quivering coward.

  And nothing happened. For an endless moment I waited, not even breathing. I still wasn’t sure how long it could take, and with the luck I had already experienced that night it seemed certain that Creol must Choose me. But time drained by, and there was no pull or shock or anything else I’d been told to expect, and Creol was already looking beyond me to his next victim. I figured he had to know what he was doing, he had done this so many times before.

  The sharp relief I felt at not being Chosen by that man was a nice, cool shock. It almost made up for the earlier disappointments. So Devereaux and Black and neither of the Bradfords had Chosen me. Neither had Creol. Life was wonderful.

  My brothers would never let me forget it, that I was left all alone and pathetic in the Circle. There were worse things.

  Karish stood before me. He had gone through half the line without Choosing. I wondered if he was getting worried. I wondered why I was even there. I looked up at him.

  Light slapped into my eyes, blinding me and setting my ears to ringing. It almost hurt. Lightning raced through my veins and burst through my skin, I could feel it. My lungs threatened to collapse in my chest. I couldn’t breathe, and I thought about panicking.

  Just as abruptly, the light vanished. I could see, I could hear, I could breathe, and I was standing on my own two feet. I looked up into gleaming dark eyes, and I thought about panicking.

  Karish. The Stallion of the Triple S. My Source. I was chained to a legend. An infamous legend. Stories of drunkenness, whoring, and general recklessness filled my head. Oh. My. God. I must have been evil in a former life.

  This was it. The person I would work with the rest of my life. Moving with him as we were transferred from post to post. Learning how he moved and felt and thought. Most importantly, learning how he channeled. Because from that instant on, my most important task was protecting this man while he worked, making sure the forces he manipulated while calming tsunami and cyclones and other natural events didn’t end up killing him.

  I would die with this man. He’d catch some sexual disease, or some enraged spouse would kill him, and the bond would drag me down with him. He was that sort, the sort that shone too bright and burned out fast.

  Hell.

  He grinned, and of course my brain immediately froze solid. He took my hand and kissed the back of it, which was odd enough behavior to keep me silent. I let him pull me out of the line because I really couldn’t believe what had just happened. “I’m Shintaro Karish,” he said, as if there were any chance I didn’t already know who he was. “My friends call me Taro. I am very pleased to finally meet you.”

  Finally. Like he had been aware of my existence for more than half a moment and had been desperately anticipating our introduction. Very good. And he had a tenor born for the stage. I’d always been soft for a good male voice. But what was that accent? Sources and Shields were raised in different academies, but we all ended up with the same bland accent. His drawl, with its rolling r’s, was definitely aristocratic, and the pretension disgusted me.

  He was beautiful. I usually preferred blonds, but even I had to admit that he was visually stunning. The slightly longish black hair, the black eyes with just a touch of an enticing slant, the finely drawn nose, cheekbones, and jaw. Good teeth, well-shaped mouth, warmly bronzed skin. A gold ring glinted in his left lobe in defiance of the rules and tradition of the Match. He wasn’t too tall, but he was lean, with elegant hands and an excellent stance.

  Was that my mouth watering? Of course not.

  But he slept with a different partner every night. Or so they said. And I’d never been one to follow a crowd.

  On the other hand, we were Paired. For life. No matter how impossible that seemed at the moment. I couldn’t ignore him as I would like, and being rude to him would only make things difficult for me. So I smiled politely. “Dunleavy Mallorough.” I remembered to withdraw my hand. “It will be an honor to serve.”

  He raised an ebony brow in obvious amusement. “I see,” he murmured.

  I was immediately suspicious. Just what did he think he saw?

  Another shout distracted me. Black had found his match in Jamin Tan.

  “Are your family here?” Karish asked.

  Oh, Zaire. My family. Wouldn’t they just be thrilled? Especially my father, his little girl bonded to the Stallion. For of course they had heard of the Stallion, even though they weren’t part of the Triple S. Everyone had heard of the Stallion.

  Aye, they were there. “Are yours?” I asked him, because I had to say something.

  He smiled again, but this time it was a rather twisted effort. “Of course not.”

  Oh. Well. Now what? I had no questions to ask him. I already knew all about his life. I looked back at the line.

  The Match was over. Sources Creol and Viola Bradford hadn’t Chosen. I wondered if they were as disappointed as all the Shields who had suffered the same fate. I doubted it.

  No one was directing at Karish the poisonous glares I was receiving from some of my former classmates.

  You want him? Please, take him. I would be forever in your debt.

  Idiot. For all his flaws, Karish was reputed to be an excellent Source. I could have done far worse. Just because he wasn’t the one I wanted didn’t mean we couldn’t work well together. And being Chosen by him was better than not being Chosen at all. Really, it was.

  Really.

  The spectators had left their seats and were making their way into the Circle. I could see my family heading toward me. My parents, my older sister, my two younger brothers. They looked happy and proud. That helped me relax a little.

  Mother hugged me first, a tight squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. “We’re so proud of you, honey,” she whispered fiercely. Though, really, there was nothing to be proud of. It wasn’t as though I had actually accomplished anything, or won something through merit. Getting Chosen was merely the luck of the draw.

  Father cupped my face with a long hand and kissed me lightly. “Good work, little one,” he said gruffly.

  Big sister Kaaren and little brothers Dias and Mika, both of whom towered over me, crushed me in a series of embraces. Mika was the only one who had something to say about my Source. “Lucky girl,” he muttered, running an admiring gaze over Karish’s form.

  I ruffled his hair because I knew he hated it.

  There were introductions to make. “Lord Shintaro Karish, I would like to present my parents, Trader William Mallorough and Holder Teshia Mallorough, my sister Holder Kaaren Mallorough, my brothers Dias and Mika Mallorough.”

  With each name, he bowed slightly, and then looked the person right in the eye, a heavy, intense gaze accompanied by a melting smile. If I didn’t know better, I would say he was silently flirting with each and every member of my family. Including my father.

  My father cleared his throat uncomfortably. “You’re the Duke of Westsea’s brother, aren’t you?”

  “Aye,” Lord Karish said smoothly enough, but his smile suddenly seemed fixed.

  My father glanced about the crowd. “Where is he?”

  “Taking the tip off the blade, I imagine.”

  I almost sighed. Sources were known for expressing themselves oddly; it was something to do with the way their minds worked. I’d harbored the secret hope that my Source would be an exception.

  Karish gave me a smile that put me on immediate alert. “Shall we head on over to the Horse’s Head?” he asked.

  Oh, lord. That was right. Tradition declared the newly bonded Pairs were to celebrate at that ancient drinking establishment and trade life stories. It was something everyone looked forward to practically from the moment they understood what drinking themselves senseless meant. I had been looking forward to it. It not only meant that one had been Chosen, it was also the first time Shields and Sources were allowed to be out of their academies without official supervision. It was the big send-off before leaving the only home most of us really remembered and heading out into the real world. It was the one time we could act like idiots without anyone thinking less of us. It was a thousand little signals and symbols rolled into one major event, and I had fully planned on enjoying it.

  But not with Karish.

  I’d been hearing about Karish for years. I’d gossiped about him just as much as everyone else, admiring the stunts that obviously required a lot of skill and snickering at the high jinks that just as obviously required as much moxie and no discretion at all. Like everyone else, I’d known where he’d come from and who his family was. But I’d never felt anything about him, any more than I felt anything about a character in a story. He was just a piece of local color that had nothing to do with my life. Even once I understood he’d be one of the Sources at my Match, I’d only felt pity for the person who would be bonded to him. He could have nothing to do with me. And so I’d felt nothing about him.