They all knew why it was forbidden. The Singer must be surrounded with beauty and strength at all times. The Singer must not be upset or experience strong emotion of a negative nature. The Singer must not be exposed to horrors or criticised or angered. And the Singer must never, ever revel in death, lest it seep into the song and corrupt the millions of spirits bound up in its glory. A strong song meant strong people. A bloody song, though … or at least, that was what the legends said. Enet’s research indicated otherwise and here, now, with her influence and status hanging by the thread of the Singer’s changeable whims, she had no choice but to accelerate her plans.

She lowered her voice to a purr. ‘This woman is no one. She is … invisible. Expendable. Sensation, great Singer: that is my gift to you.’

‘Return to your place.’ The Singer’s voice was a throaty growl.

The Chorus warrior hesitated. ‘It is my duty to protect you.’

‘Do not disobey the Singer,’ Enet snapped, trembling with adrenaline and triumph and not a little terror. There’s no going back. Am I really doing this? Are we doing this?

The warrior hesitated again, testing the very bounds of duty and obedience despite his loyalty to Enet, and then he let go of Betsu’s neck and took a single pace backwards. The Yalotl came up faster than a striking snake, got her feet under her and was halfway to standing when his club smashed into her shoulder and drove her back onto her knees. Enet squeaked at the sudden movement, but the sound was lost under the Yaloh bellow of hurt.

A moment later the Singer’s fist buried itself in Betsu’s gut. She folded over and Xac hit her again, hammering into her cheekbone, snapping her head to one side.

‘Who is your god?’ Enet shouted when the warrior instinctively stepped back in, panic flushing his features at the breach not just of tradition and protocol but of ritual. The Singer must never be exposed to violence. The song must not be blooded. The single most inviolable rule – and the one that Enet was deliberately breaking.

Because it is wrong.

Her question brought the Chorus stumbling to a halt, obedience warring with duty, and in that moment, it happened.

The song brayed. Raw power crackled from Xac, lifting the hairs on Enet’s arms and neck, a frisson of energy and need and dominance tingling from scalp to soles. She shuddered and rocked under its intensity, and then Xac was on Betsu, straddling her waist, fists driving into her head and neck and chest, bellowing with joy, swelling with the thrill of the song, his body expanding, muscles engorged and golden beneath glistening skin until he glowed.