She burst into harder tears.
“It’s only been days. How can anyone feel anything real for someone they’ve known only for days? And you have all that family waiting for you in the IM. People you’ve known and loved for years.”
Rush could hardly follow what she was saying. It was all coming at him in such an emotional tide. But what his logical brain couldn’t comprehend, his heart heard loud and clear. A riptide of elation swirled through him as she gave him this first indication that she felt something for him. Something other than the desire she had shown him as his lover. She had always rolled so easily with everything, had always seemed so untouched. He had been convinced he was going to be a fool for her, lingering for years in her court at her side, serving her needs however she would let him just so long as he could be close to her, keeping her safe and protected.
“Oh, you idiot,” he whispered against her forehead.
He realized he had spoken aloud when she sucked in a hard breath and struggled to hold back her next sob. He saw her wounded eyes and he wanted to smack himself.
“I meant me,” he told her quickly. “I am an idiot because I forgot that underneath all this coolness and steadiness beats the heart of a passionately emotional woman. You are so fair and sweet, so accepting and generous to everyone that whenever you were any of those things to me I just put it down to your nature. I never once thought I could actually be special in your eyes.”
Ambrea’s weeping dropped into quietly stunned little hiccups.
“But Rush, everything about you is special. And it ought not be just in my eyes. And I really doubt that it is. I saw how Ophelia acted with you. She cares so much for you, I can tell. All of your IM companions do, and I …” She looked down at her hands in her lap, her fingers tugging at one another anxiously. “What am I but another task to you? The only bond we formed was because of a secret you never wished to share with me in the first place.”
“A secret that was outed the moment you were in danger. A power that showed its true strength and true control the instant I thought you were being taken away from me. I don’t know what it was or how I even knew I could do it, but I closed my eyes and one moment I was here, the next I was in the clinic, leaving explosions before and after me.”
Her eyes widened.
“You were able to do that?”
“Yes. And there were plenty of witnesses. Including my boss, and one of your guards.”
“Oh my. We ought to debrief him,” she said distractedly.
“I plan to once you are asleep and resting peacefully. But first I need you to tell me—are you asking me to stay here?” He turned awkward and unsure before her eyes, and it was so endearing that she couldn’t help but smile. “I mean, I’m a Tarian, you know.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Allayans despise Tarians.”
“Not this Allayan,” she said softly. “And after all, isn’t that the only one that should matter?”
“Not if it makes things harder for you,” he said with a dark frown. “And you need a bloodline to secure the future of your throne, and I’m not sure I want to … I have this thing inside me I can barely control. Bad enough to pass my heritage on, but this mutation as well?”
“I am aware that is how you feel. At the moment.”
That surprised him.
“You are?” Again the frown. “And this moment may last forever. I may never change my mind. I don’t want to subject any other living being to the things I suffered.”
“I know,” she said softly, her hands gently cupping his face. “But can you imagine there would ever be anything inside a child of mine that I would not be able to love and accept? Unless we breed a psychopath,” she said dryly. “And that would come from my genes. So perhaps I should make you reconsider any ideas of breeding with me.”
Rush chuckled, looking deeply into her warm, smiling eyes, the wash of fresh tears making them sparkle like gems. “I hadn’t considered that. You’ve got something of a point there.”
“Mmm. So let’s agree to focus on other things first,” she suggested. “Like, how will I ever keep a man like you sufficiently excited and entertained in my boring political world?”
“Boring?” he exclaimed. He laughed heartily. “I think you might still be in shock. There is nothing in the least bit boring about your world. Is it going out and blowing up shit? No, not immediately. But I imagine that as general of your armies, I will have more than my fair share of excitement. Or are you going to renege on my appointment now that you know I am considering taking it on permanently?”
“Hardly,” she sniffed, reaching to poke him hard in the chest. “But you must promise me not to be stabbed too often. It rather upsets me.”
“As long as you promise not to be assassinated too often because it rather upsets me,” he countered.
“Hmm. What a conundrum this whole thing promises to be,” she noted.
“Yes,” he agreed. “Very perplexing on all fronts.” He swept a tender thumb under the well of her eye. “I think I must advise you that it’s all very unwise.”
“I think I must advise you the same,” she said just as gravely.
“Well, frankly my alternatives suck. The IM is going to find out about what I’ve been hiding once Bronse makes his report. They will not be happy.”
“Oh, you know they’re going to want you more than ever,” she huffed at him. “I won’t buy this ‘poor disenfranchised orphan’ routine. Your friends haven’t tried to string you up recently, in spite of them discovering your mutation. So you must assume you’ve been wrong all these years not to trust them.”
“Yes. Very wrong,” he agreed, suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to kiss the breath right out of her body. So he pulled her mouth under his and did exactly that. She responded intensely, and like the pounding force of an explosion against him, she left him equally breathless and stunned. Was this really happening? Was she really choosing him over any other man? She was the empress of a powerful country. She had realized her power in so many ways, surely she realized she could have anyone she wanted.
And as if she had read his mind, she pulled away from his lips, hovering a breath away as her hands drew warmly over his face, mapping his features with unmistakable hunger. “There will never be anyone better in my eyes, my fine Tarian brute,” she whispered to him.
Rush felt his heart beat harder, as though it wanted to take flight out of his chest. He had never once in his life been in love, but how amazing it was that he knew the sensation as well as he would know an old friend.
“I think I’ve loved you since the moment you tried to touch the flames on my hand, full of a faith that I wouldn’t hurt you that you had no sane reason to have. And you pursued me even after I did hurt you. How could I not love someone so clearly insane? We’re so much the same, Blue Eyes, but so much in our own ways.” He reached to catch her hands when they promised to wander his body aggressively. “And you’re too injured for lovemaking. Ophelia would have my hide if anything happened to yours.”
That she relented so easily told him more about her pain level than she would have preferred to give away. She lay back in her bed, the plush comfort of it not nearly gentle enough to keep from hurting her. He could imagine that her skin felt as though it were still on fire, as it remained raw beneath the bandages.
“But you will promise to make love with me as soon as possible?” she extracted from him. “We have yet to see if we can manage it out of the water.”
“Perhaps someone’s faith has infected me, but I believe we will be able to manage that,” he said as he continued to touch gentle strokes to her face. He had to marvel at how every contour seemed to be so sweet to him. He found it hard to believe there had been a time when he had not been amazed by her beauty. Perhaps it was because every time he looked at her he was awash with the strength that was inside her.
Little did Rush know that she was thinking the very same thing. As her fingertips toyed over the rugged handsom
eness of his face, she only wanted to devour him with her memory. Life did not turn out well for her like this. Not usually. So she felt the need to make the most of every moment. To appreciate every single blessing that came her way.
“A handsome warrior came to rescue me one day,” she breathed softly. “He has been my protector ever since. The Great Being sent him to me, I know. But who could have guessed he would rescue and protect my very heart as well?”
“Give me that job for the rest of my life and I think I will always be satisfied,” he said before pressing light kisses to her cheeks. “But as your protector, madam, I insist you rest. Ophelia sent something for your pain.” He reached for one of the pain patches he had left in a little pile on a nearby table.
“Let me do that, sir.”
Graceful fingers intercepted him, reaching for the patch. He looked up in surprise, forgetting that their lives would never be private. The Lady Eirie as well as Suna and several other female servants were always moving quietly in and out of their sphere unless ordered away. He had yet to question Suna or Eirie about the poisoned robe, so he resisted the idea of her coming close to Ambrea, although she had not seemed to be in any way responsible. Still, what could she do while he was sitting right there? He looked her over quickly for any kind of weapon and saw only a jeweled knife hanging sheathed from a decoratively linked and bejeweled waist chain.
“I would prefer it if you no longer wear decorative weaponry in the presence of your empress,” he said with a frown.
She seemed genuinely surprised, almost as if she had forgotten it was there. She quickly reached to open the catch and handed the entire chain, including the knife, to him.
“I certainly don’t blame you, General, and I ought to have thought of it myself.”
“Where is the Lady Suna?” he asked her.
“She’s being held pending questioning,” Eirie replied. “I’m sorry, madam,” she said to Ambrea, bowing her head sadly. “I saw Suna lay out that robe for you. I was told it was poisoned. It’s just too horrible.” She reached for the pain patch, peeled off its backing, and gingerly applied it to Ambrea’s neck. Now that she was in the privacy of her rooms, Ambrea had shed all of her clothing, the weight of it too intense for her. She lay in bed under a light cover wrapped well with bandages except for the ones Ophelia had removed to facilitate movement. It would be immediately obvious to those serving her that she was weakened and injured, although if Ambrea could have her way she would never show weakness to any of her subjects. But she would have to settle for keeping it hidden in public and let speculations fly as they may.
Rush didn’t know why the movement Eirie made next struck him as odd, but instinct made his hand snap out to grab hers. He felt and saw the small spray container in her hand.
“It’s only perfume, General,” she said. “To freshen the bed.”
“They do it all the time,” Ambrea said with amusement as she rested a calming hand over his.
“Would you care to smell it?” Eirie asked.
The Tarian let go of her hand. Eirie extended her arm, held it out practically under his nose, then sprayed the contents of the vial onto her wrist.
But just before she did it, he heard her take in her breath and hold it.
It was the very opposite thing a person would do when about to spray a fragrance. But before it could all register, she had sprayed the entire space between himself and Ambrea with the mist. His reaction was fully reflexive and completely subconscious, he would later realize. Fire burst out of him on the exhalation of his breath. He literally breathed it out into the air, setting the mist on fire as its flammable properties ignited. The Lady Eirie screeched in surprise, falling back away from them as her hair and gown caught fire. But it seemed as though the fire were selective, because even though it roiled over Ambrea’s face, it did not burn her, and it did not set her on fire. The fire inside of Rush was like a living, sentient thing. It knew what it wanted to destroy, even if the man it lived inside of didn’t fully comprehend why.
The canister that Eirie had held fell to the floor, rolling away, while Rush surged to his feet and grabbed for the burning woman. He threw her down to the floor, covering her body, using the sweep of his hands to extinguish the flames.
There was an eeriness to the sound in the room. It was silent in the wake of Eirie’s horrible screams, but it was far from quiet. The young woman lay curled in the fetal position beneath Rush, the sounds of pain and shock bursting out of her. Most of her hair was burned away, her dress, that fine silk, had burned like flash paper all around her and was sticking to her skin, which in turn had begun to burn and blister. Her face was raw and red, and she no longer had any lashes or brows. There was no sign of the beauty that had taken her so far in life. Too far.
“What was that?” Rush demanded, feeling no pity for her. She cowered in fear of him, and it was no wonder. He was a fire-breathing monster to her. “What were you trying to do?”
She whined and shook her head.
“Mercy” was all she could croak out.
Rush had not realized it, but Ambrea had risen from the bed. She now leaned over the unfortunate woman on the floor.
“It seems you really will protect me to all extremes, my fine Tarian brute,” she said softly. “Whether you realize you are doing so or not.” Then she turned toward Eirie. “If it was you who put that vile burning robe in my path, then I hope now you can appreciate the enormity of what you did. Perhaps now you know the pain you have caused.” She straightened up slowly, her movements a little off because the narcotics of the pain patch were entering her bloodstream. “Take her to the nearest Allayan trauma center. She can hope Allayan medicine will help. If she survives, put her in the wet rooms and question her thoroughly. If she survives that process and is found guilty of treason …” Ambrea smiled. “After the crown takes away her lands, her wealth, and her status, perhaps it will be too cruel to let her live, her beauty damaged, her position in life destroyed. I would not wish to be thought of as cruel.”
“No, madam,” Rush agreed. “You are above such petty cruelties.” He leaned close to the suffering girl. “Aren’t you fortunate that none of those vicious Allayan males rule this place?”
All Eirie could do was whimper.
“My goodness, she’s really quite pregnant.”
Rush turned his head to look, seeing Ravenna enter the enormous catering hall of Blossom Palace. He had not seen her in many months, so she did, indeed, look very much more pregnant than she had at his last visit with her. The knowledge made him frown a little. He had expected he would drift away from his IM family a little as their lives took them in opposing directions, but seeing it so starkly represented in the size of Ravenna’s belly made him more than a little sad.
“I’ve been neglecting them,” he said quietly.
“Perhaps. A little,” Ambrea agreed. “You’ve been somewhat preoccupied of late. But things are getting better now,” she reminded him. “You’ve reformed nearly the entire Imperial Guard, my personal aides and assistants are all trustworthy, and we’ve routed out I’d say sixty-five percent of the poisonous prelates and paxors.”
Rush smiled and glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. “I bet you can’t say that three times fast,” he mused.
“Hush,” she scolded him in a fierce little whisper. “And you aren’t supposed to look at me.”
“A ridiculous custom,” he insisted for the hundredth time. But he turned his gaze forward again to the catering room and waited with her until the room had been wholly settled, all their most distinguished guests having been marched past them in a respectful procession line.
Once everyone was seated, Rush gave a slight nod to Suna, who then hurried to touch the shoulder of the hall manager. At his direction the window shutters were dramatically lifted, rising to expose thirty-foot-tall sheets of crystal clear therma glass and the brilliant sunny day beyond them.
As well as the tremendous crowd of commoners that had been allow
ed onto the grounds of Blossom Palace, all pressed as close to the therma glass as they could possibly get in order to see the spectacle within the catering hall.
“I feel like a flit-flyer trapped in a jar,” Rush muttered, his gloved finger touching the snug collar of his uniform.
“Shh,” Ambrea soothed him softly, breaking protocol in order to take hold of his hand, threading her gloved fingers between his.
“This is ridiculous. Any number of those people can try to attack you and your guests through the glass—”
“Our guests. And you had the glass replaced and reinforced, did you not?”
“And I don’t like them running loose on the grounds—”
“The lower grounds. Our private areas and residences are perfectly guarded. You saw to that. Or don’t you trust your people?”
“I do.” He nodded his head then, exhaling strongly in an act of moderate relaxation. “Yes, I do. They’re good men. Better than I had hoped for.”
“Distinguished guests,” the hall manager suddenly announced in a strident, booming voice that echoed into every corner. “Welcome to Blossom Palace. You honor us with your presence. Now, if you will, allow me to introduce to you our most benevolent and beauteous mistress, the Empress Ambrea Vas Allay, and her betrothed, General Rush Blakely!”
The room erupted in cheers and applause, the effect radiating like a wave through the vast windows and into the excited crowd beyond. Ambrea broke protocol yet again and turned her head to look at Rush, leaning close to him so their shoulders touched.
“Now tell me, my fine Tarian brute,” she whispered to him, “does that sound like a country that hates you?”
Ambrea had known that it was fear that had been causing him to be a bundle of nerves and testy temperament the past few days leading up to this, their official betrothal event. This despite the fact that they had been working so publicly hand in hand for months, that she had visibly taken his guidance and advice on a nonstop basis, and that the people had long ago come to understand that the Tarian was much more to their empress than a glorified bodyguard.
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