The High Lord (Legends of Trianon: Starla Book 2)

by J. A. Comley

  The innkeeper licked his lips, seeming to steel himself to deliver his message.

  “High Lord, forgive me, but, er, some of my other guests have expressed concerns over the stranger. They are not comfortable with her being...”

  Larkel felt his face growing hard and the man's voice faltered.

  “You are housing her by the King's command and at my request. You will house her for as long as we see fit. Understood?”

  “I … but … yes, High Lord,” the innkeeper bowed, hands trembling.

  Working to soften his face, Larkel continued, “If it helps, let your guests know that I will be staying here, too. As of tonight.”

  The innkeeper pasted a smile to his face. “Thank you, High Lord, thank you,” he said as he paled, the familiar fear shining in his eyes.

  Larkel sighed inwardly. He had learned as a child that nothing he did would ever lessen the people's instinctual fear of him. Yet now, thanks to this war, that fear had gained strength, joined by hatred, and he was slowly losing hope of ever being rid of the dark cloud that now shrouded him.

  At least Starla didn't seem to be afraid, despite having been given reasons to be. It was more than he'd expected, and he couldn't help the small flare that tightened his heart.

  Enough. You are not free to—

  Turning back to the door, the High Lord felt his stomach drop through his feet. The woman wasn't where he had left her. Rushing out into the street, he looked left and right, keen eyes sweeping through the people that started in fright.

  None of them was whom he sought. Starla was gone.

  His eyes shot to the bell boy, but before he could ask after Starla, the youth had fled.

  Fear tightened his gut and set his eyes glittering dangerously as he turned back to the street. Had he been wrong about her? Kyron's magic was always changing, trying to find a way in. It was all too possible that he had missed some subtle sign, been taken in by her mental presence. And now she was alone with no one to take her down should she prove to be a Corruption.

  Indigo eyes flashing, the High Lord slammed his staff into the ground and opened his mental connection to the Makhi.

  Locate Starla as a top priority. Potentially dangerous target. Subdue her and get her away from any citizens. Summon me as soon as she is located and contain her until I arrive.

  She wouldn't get far.

  ***

  “Good, you all made it,” the Baron said, looking at the eight men and three women who had assembled around him.

  They were standing in one of the city's many shanebury gardens. This one was nicely secluded at this early hour and close enough for him to keep an eye on his target.

  “It is dangerous to meet here,” Keeper Thorten said, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

  The Baron gave him a long-suffering look, pulling his thoughts back from Starla's rejection of him last night.

  “Time is short,” Braxton whispered. “Vinaria, Yilia, Deled, you are all attending the Ball?”

  The three nobles nodded from within their deep cowls.

  The rejection, so soon after the hearing, hadn't been unexpected, but patience was not one of his better traits. The Master's instructions had been clear. That woman was somehow linked to the disturbance that hit Rainbow Wood five nights ago. The Master wanted her alive, and as for himself, he wanted her to pay for dredging up memories that were filled with nothing but pain and hate.

  “Is that our deadline?” Vinaria asked, a lesser noble with petulant dark-brown eyes. “The night of the Ball?”

  Braxton looked at the woman who he had named as his fiance in order to have access to her connections. He looked away before Vinaria could notice his disgust.

  “In a way. Though I have no reason to believe that she might end up attending. The Ball has always been our deadline, this stranger will not change that.”

  “Aren't we supposed to capture her? Hand her over to the Master?” Deled said, looking from his wife who twitched in his shadow, back to the Baron.

  “Yes, but there is no rush. Let us focus on completing the rest of our preparations.”

  “What is she runs?”

  The Baron sighed. “She won't run. Besides, we can't risk drawing attention to ourselves with a messy capture.”

  “Nor can we risk the High Lord heightening his protection of her.”

  “Leave Larkel to me,” the Baron said, his voice low and deadly. “I am personally going to try and get her to come willingly.”

  “You want her to betray him. This can't all be about your...”

  “In the meantime,” the Baron spoke over Vinaria, eyes cutting to her in a warning she knew better than to ignore. “Messrs Thorten and Holsan and Mrs Lanteg, you will use every contact and position at your disposal to make sure her every move is documented. I want to know every word that passes between her and Larkel.”

  “Yes, my lord,” they said in unison.

  “That shouldn't be too hard,” the plump Mrs Lanteg added. “I already have a job here two days a week.”

  The Baron smiled briefly at the news, but his grey eyes remained dead.

  “Captain Trent, I need you to take Messrs Garten, Rhiken and Frockle out into the forest today. A magmus will be waiting. Inform it of our progress and, if you happen to see any grobblers, give them a description of those pathetic Sacrileons in case they choose to defy the law and return. Add in a description of Starla for good measure, in case she does run,” he added, to placate Deled and Yilia. “Lastly, if—”

  “We are being watched, my lord,” the Makhi whispered for the Baron's ears, alone, adding with it a mental picture of the direction of the spy.

  The Baron spun to face the inn. He was able to catch a glimmer of white fabric in one of the upper windows before it vanished.

  He turned back and locked eyes with the Makhi.

  “The High Lord,” he confirmed.

  Cursing Larkel under his breath, the Baron spoke only to the Makhi. “Go and find Ditte. We can't risk letting him discover us. You know what you must do.” He met the young Makhi's gaze and watched it harden with resolve. “Tell Ditte everything, but tell him not to share what we have discovered with the other faithful Makhi yet. He must simply keep watching and waiting. Make sure of those on our side. Do you think he will already know it was you?”

  “No, my lord. I have done as you ordered and kept my connection to him slightly open. Enough for me to sense him when he is near, but not enough for him to know I have it open. I do not think it will take him long to trace the breach, though.”

  The Baron felt his hands curling into claws and forced them to relax.

  “Good. That should give you enough time to get to Ditte.” Turning back to the group, the Baron addressed them all, forcing his voice to sound calm. “You have your orders. I have mine. I shall want to see you all at dawn tomorrow. Your dreams will tell you when and where,” he finished, dismissing them with a wave of his hand.

  As the others dispersed through the bushes and into the glittering city beyond, the Baron glanced back up at the window.

  “Your end is fast approaching, Larkel,” he hissed, making his way back to the Imperial Circle.

  ***

  Starla carefully put down a delicate crystal brooch shaped like a blossoming flower.

  Probably way too expensive. Practical, that's what I'm looking for, she told herself, turning away from the beautiful crystal towards ones that looked metallic.

  Out of the window, Starla watched two men stroll, hand in hand. She felt her eyes widen as they paused, looking at something in another shop's display, bending their heads close together. When their lips met, Starla felt an automatic jolt go through her, her eyes flashing up and down the road. No one on the street seemed scandalised by this behaviour, moving about their day unconcerned by the couple.

  She felt a small smile tug at her lips as she brought up an old memory.

  Pierre once returned from a trip to Italy with a small collection of books, many of them i
llustrated. He had enjoyed scandalising Antonio, Tyra, Raoul, and Starla with talk of the strange customs of far off places. This time, he had been describing how Ancient Greeks would sometimes encourage love between two men. He had even brought her a book on how the ancient Romans and Greeks had accepted such behaviour. He told her that it was as normal as any other kind of love. Father Joe had been livid, ordering Pierre to keep those books well away from Starla. Though she had kept the thoughts to herself, she had felt herself siding with Pierre. Love was love.

  I wonder, if Pierre were here, if my suspicions about his preferences would be proven true.

  Her smile broadened as the couple moved off, laughing with each other. Here was a culture that seemed willing to happily accept different kinds of people. It was another vast change from her world, but one she whole-heartedly accepted.

  Feeling buoyed by the happy scene, she turned back to the brooches just as the shop's door burst open and three Makhi strode in, staves raised. Starla had just enough time to realise why they were there when she was struck by a spell that seemed to freeze her in place. The female Makhi's eyes lost focus for a moment before she turned to the shopkeeper. “The High Lord requests the use of your back room.”

  “Of course. This way,” the shopkeeper stammered, wide-eyed.

  Starla did her best not to panic as she was levitated into a small, dimly-lit room filled along the walls with tiny boxes, though her heart had other ideas, hammering wildly against her chest. Feeling her knees bend against her will, Starla found herself seated on a rough-hewn stool, her shawl falling to the floor. The two men took up positions on either side of the door, while the woman came to stand behind Starla. There was no mistaking the threatening way they held their staves.

  Starla felt a despairing laugh flare in her chest.

  How could I have been so naïve?

  The High Lord strode into the small room moments later, his indigo eyes ablaze, night-black hair windswept. His power seemed too large for the small storage room, though she knew that the waves now rolling off him were but a glimmer of what they could be.

  “Release her.” His deep voice resonated with command, even as it barely went above a whisper.

  Starla had to catch her balance quickly as the spell released her limbs, fighting down her instinctual reaction to his magic.

  She met his gaze and felt herself shudder. Whatever levity had been present earlier was gone. His eyes held only ice. Cold, merciless, and deadly.

  “Leave.” His voice was calm, but not in a reassuring way. It was more like the deathly still before a storm.

  As the Makhi bowed low and slipped out behind their High Lord, Starla resisted the urge to squirm, his gaze locking on her with relentless force. He seemed to be trying to read her mind without using a spell.

  “What were you thinking?” he demanded, finally, the ice in his eyes seeming capable of freezing the entire room.

  For all I like to pride myself on my intelligence, this was a huge oversight.

  Starla swallowed her annoyance at her stupidity and forced herself to hold his gaze. “I am sorry, High Lord.”

  “Tell me where you were going, what you were doing here.” His voice had an edge of anger to it now.

  Starla felt her own anger rise. This could all have been avoided if he had been upfront about how minimal her freedom really was. She stood up, coming to within a pace of Larkel, her emerald eyes hard as stones, ignoring her inner trembling at the power he held, at the fierce storm she knew it could become.

  “This store sells brooches. I asked the bell boy about a store for brooches, he said this one was nearby, so I came to see. You failed to mention that I was not really free at all and should not leave your sight.”

  Larkel gripped her shoulders, pulling her even closer. “Are you really that naïve? This planet is at war! We have spies trying to infiltrate us every day. And, what, you thought that you could just walk about? I told the King about you. I told him you were keeping a secret on the Sacrileons' orders. I told him you could use magic without seeming to realise what you were doing, without my being able to sense its source. Now, tell me, as the leader and protector of his people, do you really expect the King to take someone like that on their word that they are not our enemy?”

  This was definitely a poor way to try and regain his trust after breaking it at my hearing.

  Starla dropped her eyes to the ground and felt his hands tighten painfully before they fell away.

  “You are right,” they said together.

  She looked back up at him, and some of the ice melted in his eyes.

  “I should have realised everything you just said. I did ask the bell boy to let you know where I had gone, but that is no excuse. I let my curiosity and wonder at your city take over for a moment.” Starla felt her cheeks heat but didn't look away. “I am sorry for the trouble I caused you. I will behave better in future.”

  Larkel watched her eyes rise to his as they spoke together, the sudden urge to chuckle bubbling in his chest. She seemed to take his silence as an invitation and apologised again, chagrin colouring her cheeks. He felt his heart begin to race as she finished, sunlight glittering on her hair and setting her eyes alight.

  I truly have let her mental voice cloud my judgment, even if she is not a threat.

  Trying to crush the ridiculous notion taking root, he turned from her, scooping up her shawl.

  Turning back, he met her eyes.

  “You are also right. I should have told you exactly what your current position is.” He felt his lips curl into a half-smile as he handed her the shawl.

  “Thank you.”

  He caught the trace of fear she'd been trying to hide and smothered a bitter laugh. He was angry more from wounded pride than anything else.

  The terrifying and powerful High Lord unable to keep track of one young woman.

  “Starla,” he sighed, running a hand through the thick, dark waves of his hair, “please try to understand. We're all in a state of high alert. You are not a prisoner. You just—”

  “I just can't leave or do anything without your permission.” Something seemed to come together in her eyes, and he braced himself automatically. “Last night, when I asked to leave, why didn't you tell me then that I could not?”

  He felt his own cheeks heat. “I didn't want to dampen your curiosity for this city with—”

  “I see,” she interrupted, her voice cold. “You were using what you had learned from my mind again. Like with this shawl.”

  He winced then opened his mouth, but she held up a hand.

  “It is all right, High Lord. You don't need to explain,” she said, turning away from him. “You also don't need to keep up the pretence of wanting to show me around the city. Certainly, the High Lord of the Makhi Order of Trianon has better things to do.”

  Larkel felt his hopes for the day plummet. His frustration grew, along with the battle taking place between his desire and his sense.

  He touched his circlet of office, feeling the weight of all that rested on his shoulders.

  Larkel swallowed a sigh of regret. He had duties he couldn't ignore. Her secret had to be discovered, whatever he wanted. Moderating his voice, he decided on telling half the truth in an attempt to get the day back on track, to serve both his duty and himself.

  “Starla, I really did want to show you around. That wasn't an order from the King.” He forced himself to meet her eyes as she turned back to him. “The King just wanted you watched to make sure that my vote of trust wasn't misplaced, to prevent you from leaving the City if it came to it. And that last is as much for your own safety as ours.”

  Starla held his eyes. She seemed surprised by the tone of his voice, or perhaps it was his words.

  “As I said, I should have told you,” he continued, “I just … I knew you were very excited about seeing the city, and I didn't want to ruin it with thoughts of hidden eyes everywhere.” He released a heavy breath, fingers tightening against his staff, resisting the
temptation to reach towards her.

  Stop acting like a child after their first mind link! Just because you've lived parts of her life with her through her memories, does not mean she'll feel the same, he told himself firmly.

  Starla watched a new emotion flare to life in his eyes and her heart skipped a beat.

  He had wanted to show me around?

  She felt torn. Her earlier naivete had uncovered some truths she was not comfortable with. Her sense of him, gained through their mental bond, told her that he was deserving of her trust, that the foolish fluttering in her belly was worth pursuing.

  She bit her lip.

  But I can't just trust that.

  She wanted to trust him, but she wasn't sure she could, not after he had ordered a full-scale manhunt to find her, not after the warnings of the Sacrileons, not after the fear every single person seemed to have for him. Even now, he had not told her the whole truth. She hadn't missed his hesitation. No doubt, he had been ordered to uncover her secret.

  Which is perfectly reasonable, Starla told herself sternly. If I had people to protect, I'd have done the same.

  Suddenly, Larkel's stomach growled, sounding overly loud in the small space. Starla almost laughed at the look of embarrassment on his face.

  “I don't suppose you'd still like to get breakfast?” he asked, attempting a smile, the scars on his face twisting.

  Starla let herself smile. There was just something about him, something beneath the ice, something visible through the cracks in the hard looks and harsh words. It seemed to draw her to him, regardless of any concerns her mind offered up.

  Although, now that she knew he was basically her gaoler, she would have to rethink her way of getting him to help her to contact the Queen. Maybe it would be better if there were someone else she could ask.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “Wait, Starla, please,” he said as they crossed through the store, the store clerk shooting daggers at Starla behind Larkel's back. “You came in here for a brooch. Did you find one you liked?”