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Back Rapture
Chapters (55)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
  4. 1.
  5. 2.
  6. 3.
  7. 4.
  8. 5.
  9. 6.
  10. 7.
  11. 8.
  12. 9.
  13. 10.
  14. 11.
  15. 12.
  16. 13.
  17. 14.
  18. 15.
  19. 16.
  20. 17.
  21. 18.
  22. 19.
  23. 20.
  24. 21.
  25. 22.
  26. 23.
  27. 24.
  28. 25.
  29. 26.
  30. 27.
  31. 28.
  32. 29.
  33. 30.
  34. 31.
  35. 32.
  36. 33.
  37. 34.
  38. 35.
  39. 36.
  40. 37.
  41. 38.
  42. 39.
  43. 40.
  44. 41.
  45. 42.
  46. 43.
  47. 44.
  48. 45.
  49. 46.
  50. 47.
  51. 48.
  52. 49.
  53. 50.
  54. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  55. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

The man was dressed in the red robes and black cowl of a God’s Angel. He was young, younger than she expected, a few years her junior. He had a neatly trimmed beard and dark eyes set in a lean face with a sallow complexion. He carried nothing. His hands were folded neatly in front of him, hidden in the long sleeves of his crimson robe. His gaze met hers, and at once she felt filthy again, and somehow inadequate.

“Inaya il Parait?” He stopped a few paces from her, but she could see that he was a head and shoulders taller than her, nearly as tall as a Nasheenian.

It was startling to hear that name aloud, after all this time. But she still had the sense to shake her head. “No, that isn’t my name. Please, I think you have me confused with someone else. I just want to go home.”

The man nodded to the woman, and she shut the door.

“What time is it?” Inaya asked.

“That has little relevance here,” he said. “You say you are not Inaya il Parait. I have witnesses who say otherwise.”

“Then they too are mistaken. I’m sorry, I don’t know who that is. I just want to go home.”

“And where is home?”

“Tirhan. My family is there.”

“Is that so? You openly admit to marrying a Tirhani?”

“What? No. My husband is Mhorian.”

She had assumed they brought her in in connection with the Fourré. It had never occurred to her that they might think she was a Tirhani spy. Oh, God, she had not prepared to talk her way out of that.

“And what is his name?”

Inaya hesitated. Knew he saw her hesitate. It was that, his knowledge of her deception, that made her finally burst into tears. “Please,” she said. “Please, I just want to go home.”

“I have a list of names for you,” the man said. “Tell me which are familiar to you, and you may go home. It is quite simple.”

“Please, I don’t know why I’m here.”

“Because you are Inaya il Parait, a well-known shifter sympathizer. And much more, aren’t you? Shall I tell you what I know, or will you allow me to dispense with this pretense and get straight to the matter? Just a few confirmations of known associates, and I will send you straight home to your husband and children.”

“I don’t know the il Parait family,” she said. “My husband is Khos Khadija. I am Inaya Khadija, and before that I was Inaya il Tierre. Ask anyone. I don’t know this woman you’re talking about.”