Aeron forced a dispassionate glance down his body. Wryly, she answered, “I’m sure you can deal with it.” She walked out of the bathroom, naked and wet, and really not caring. Oh, but she was mad! Her hands shook with the force of it. The insufferable man was lucky she didn’t try to drown that smug look off his face. If he wanted to act all high-handed, then he could do it on his own. She wasn’t going to spend the rest of her short life being dismissed and treated like a servant.
She turned to look at the bathroom, half tempted to storm back in there and start throwing things at him. A shiver ran along her spine, spreading over her arms and legs. She should have grabbed one of the drying linens, but it was too late to go back and get one. Ignoring the kitchen, she went toward a narrow door hidden in the corner. It led to a bedroom, which she had explored earlier after the queen left her alone. The fur-covered bed was large and round with a pile of pillows in the center. A chill again worked over her damp flesh. Without thought, she whipped back the fur covers and crawled into bed. Grabbing a couple pillows, she tucked them around her body and under her head. The instant warmth invaded her body and she sighed in comfort, forcing herself to relax. Anger would do her no good. She needed to be rested and rational. The curtains overhead were drawn so the room was dim. She closed her eyes. The king was informed. Her mission was done. For the moment, she felt like she could finally rest.
Bron stared down at his erection in disbelief. She had left him to deal with it on his own. Such a thing wasn’t unheard of. He could well handle his own physical needs. By all that was sacred, he’d taken care of such needs his entire adult life. That wasn’t the point. He was married now.
Sex was the one thing they seemed to do well together. It was the one thing they had always silently agreed on. How could she walk away from that? It was the one thread between them that gave him hope of a future, of a marriage, of a life. What happened? She had looked at him as if she didn’t want him. She had left him to handle it himself.
Bron absently grabbed his arousal as he sat in the bath. He pumped it a few times, but the passion he’d felt moments before now made the gesture empty and disinteresting. Not bothering to finish, he dropped his hand and leaned against the edge of the hot bath. The churning water didn’t feel as good as it should have. He watched the door, willing her to come back to him. She didn’t.
If she lost her passion for him, then what would they have left?
Perhaps he should not have mentioned children.
Bron closed his eyes unable to concentrate. His body was tight with unreleased desire. With an irritated growl, he took himself in hand and began stroking. The angry tugs were hardly what he’d call pleasurable, more functional. His release came more as a relief of pressure than anything else. Then, grabbing liquid soap, he began lathering his skin.
Sacred stars, what did Aeron want from him? He couldn’t understand her. She wanted to warn the king about the alien threat. He did that. She wanted the Tyoe situation dealt with. He was dealing with it. So why the sudden chilliness toward him?
Bron scrubbed his body harder. Talons grew from his nail beds in his frustration and he scratched himself. Small trickles of blood ran down his forearm into the water. So much for a relaxing afternoon with his wife. Ignoring the wound, he kept scrubbing. If the gods were still punishing him for the wedding night, they were doing a very fine job of it. Being married to Aeron was torture, almost as torturous as the idea of not having her at all.
“Accursed woman,” he hissed under his breath. “What is it you want from me?”
Aeron yawned, stretching her hands over her head. She looked up at the ceiling, automatically trying to discern how late in the evening it was. Her body was relaxed and her mind sleep-hazed, but the constant daylight on the planet made it hard to tell night from day. The light seemed less forceful than when she’d gone to bed, but she’d been so irritated with Bron she hadn’t really been concentrating on the light and time.
Blinking, she was almost disappointed to see he wasn’t in the bed next to her. Ok, so she had dismissed him rather quickly. Well, he had been acting like an overbearing suctionite.
Throwing the covers off her body, she felt the chill of the room’s air. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just cooler than the warm cocoon of blankets she’d been enjoying. She tried to run her fingers through her hair, but the locks had dried into a tangled mess as she slept. With her vision adjusted to the darkened room, she looked around, able to see more clearly than before. A chair sat in the corner next to a narrow, wood-carved table. On the table were a neatly stacked pile of clothes. She went to them, looking for something to wear.
The queen had been most generous in her offer to give Aeron clothing. The richly made pile of dresses was almost daunting. Deep reds and royal blues mingled with pale creams and light grays. The gray was the most serviceable choice with less decoration along the hems, but the blue was too irresistible. She pulled the tunic gown over her head, instantly feeling like a princess. Or, rather, like a duchess. That is what the queen called her earlier, right? Lady Aeron, the High Duchess of Draig, wife to the Duke.
“More like wife to an arrogant, overbearing pain in my…” Her words became distracted as she stroked the sleeve of the gown. The material was so soft. She’d never worn anything quite like it. The skirts were slender compared to the other gown she’d been given. Perhaps it was the lack of under dress, or the elegant cut of the material. It didn’t matter. She couldn’t quit twisting her waist back and forth to watch the skirt swish and mold against her legs.
She again touched her hair, feeling the mess with no way of seeing it for herself. She tried to comb her fingers through it.
“Did you not hear me?” the queen asked from the doorway. “Oh, lovely, you found the gowns. I trust they fit?”
Aeron nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
“That one is an interesting choice for travel,” the queen said. “I would have thought the gray. Ah, well, they are now yours to do with as you please. I’ve brought Mirox to satchel the remainder of the gowns. I’ll wait until you’re ready and then I’ll take you to meet the duke by the stables. He is in the communications tower and will join you as soon as he is finished.”
“We’re leaving?” Aeron swallowed. So soon? She had thought she’d get at least one day without having to traipse all over the countryside. “Where are we going now?”
“Bron didn’t tell you?” The queen eyed Aeron’s hair. “Oh, my, let’s take care of that for you, shall we?”
“Tell me what?”
“You must have been sleeping. You looked very tired when we spoke earlier.” The queen picked up a comb on a shadowed dresser and came forward. She made a motion commanding Aeron to turn. “You leave for your home. I would welcome you to stay here longer of course, but now is not a good time. The new marriages must settle. You understand, don’t you?”
Aeron nodded. Did the queen mean her marriage to Bron? Was it clear to the queen that Aeron was unsettled?
“We must have you back. Perhaps the coronation dinner? I am sure the princes and princesses would love to meet you. They are,” the queen paused in her work, “indisposed of at the moment.”
“I understand,” Aeron said politely, though she really didn’t have the faintest clue as to what was happening with the Draig princes and princesses. She doubted anyone was going to explain it to her. Apparently, Bron couldn’t even explain their travel plans.
To be fair, though, she had left him in a rather abrupt state. The thought made her smile. He deserved it. And, if he started talking to her like a servant, she’d do it again. The slight unfulfilled ache in her lower regions protested the plan. Walking away had been difficult. Luckily, she’d had her anger to fuel her retreat.
She glanced longingly at the bed. Still, it would have been nice to have him coming to her bed, begging her to forgive…
The queen tugged the comb at her tangled hair, pulling it. Aeron bit her lip.
“There.” The queen hande
d over the comb. “Better.”
Bron looked longingly at the practice field where his cousin, Prince Zoran, threw blades at some of the younger soldiers. He remembered the game well. Each throw would get closer and closer until the soldier jumped back. The man who held his position the longest without letting the blade embed into his foot would win. There were a few men with scars on their feet, but a medic was always nearby if there were accidents.
Instead of joining in the exercise, he turned away from the practice yard toward one of the palace’s secret tunnels. Going several feet into the mountain, through the bare passageway, he greeted the young soldier guarding the elevator. With very few words, the man let Bron pass the checkpoint. The young soldier pushed a button and they began to rise with lightening speed, as they took an elevator up to the communications tower. The tower was located at the top of the mountain in a manmade-like pyramid. From the bottom of the mountain and from space, the peak was camouflaged to look like the red rock. However, inside, it was as transparent as glass. Not even ship sensors from space would be able to detect its location—unless of course someone made an unauthorized communication during the wrong time of day. If atmospheric conditions were just right overhead, a communication wave meant for the outer galaxy could be traced to the palace source. It was an acceptable risk as precautions were taken against such things.
“Inform Jorne,” Bron said to the young soldier.
“Yes, my lord,” the man answered.
Bron stopped near a man who worked next to a floating screen. His fingers tapped the air, causing it to change and flicker with new information. “New equipment?”
The man glanced back and nodded. “Installed three months ago. Faster interface and portable.” He pressed a small device on the desk. The screen disappeared into it. The man picked up the device and bounced it in his hand. “Durable. Handy for transporting information. The king has ordered we test it.” The man set it back down and pressed the button twice. The screen reappeared.
Bron nodded in approval. “With the king’s approval, I would like to see the system specs when you are done with your test.”
“Yes, my lord,” the man agreed. He turned back to work.
Bron looked up at the sky. Through the solar shielding on the panels, he could see an expanse of stars normally hidden by daylight.
“My lord,” Jorne said, coming into the tower from his private office. The man was taller than Bron but of slenderer build. He had lived for nearly four hundred years, three hundred and eight of those in service to the royal family.
Bron gestured toward Jorne’s office. The man nodded and led the way into the private area and closed the metal door behind them.
“The king sent me,” Bron began. He quickly told the man the situation before adding, “You are to tell no one of this. If an unauthorized ship comes close to our airspace, you are to report directly to the king, and to me or one of my brothers. This information is uncertain.”
“As you wish, my lord.” Jorne nodded.
Bron spoke to the man awhile longer, asking after his family. His last son had found a bride at the ceremony and was, according to his proud father, well matched and incredibly happy. Apparently the new couple was already speaking of having children. Bron smiled politely and swallowed down the bitter taste of his jealousy.
He rode the elevator back down alone. The early morning air greeted him as he stepped back outside. Zoran barked orders in the distance.
Bron had spent the night on the circular couch, listening to the sound of his wife’s breathing in the next room. Aeron slept deeply, barely moving. He had not been so lucky.
When the queen’s servant delivered several gowns with the dawn, he’d placed them on the table in Aeron’s room. She seemed so peaceful that he hadn’t wanted to wake her. Now, knowing the queen would have her fed and delivered to the stables to meet him, he hesitated. He gave a wistful glance at the exercise field. Battle sounded easier than facing an angry wife.
From the ground, because of the angle, it was impossible to see the windows or balconies of the palace that adjoined the royal family and guest quarters. They were carved just so, that even from a distance it looked just like a mountain cliff. Within the surrounding valley, near where the breeding festival grounds had been, nestled a small village under the protection of the House of Draig. The roads were of rocky earth, smoothed flat and even. The village was kept immaculately clean, built with almost a military perfection of angles. The houses were of rock and wood, so that even the poorest of families were well provided for.
The royal stables overlooked the village. It was a rustic, rectangular structure filled with some of the finest ceffyl stock on the planet. The stableman waited next to his wife. For a moment, he stopped walking. She didn’t see him as she spoke to the man. A whisper of a smile graced her features. She had always been beautiful to him, but seeing her dressed as a noblewoman in the fine dark blue gown given to her by the queen, he felt his breath catch. The color played off her features, adding a rich hue to her black hair and lighting her blue eyes with an inner fire, magnifying the color.
Seeing the stableman looking at him, he again began to walk. Aeron’s eyes turned to him. Her smile held its place. Then, as if catching herself staring, she glanced to the ground and back up at the stableman.
“My lord,” the stableman greeted. “I was just giving my lady a message for Lord Alek. I have taken the ceffyl out of isolation and she is doing much better. The solarflowers have worked their way out of her system and she is again eating normally.”
Bron nodded. He didn’t know the exact situation the stableman was referring to, but it wasn’t unusual to get messages from his brothers. Was that the conversation that had put a smile on his wife’s face? Ceffyl care? “I will tell him. Thank you.”
The stableman’s eyes drifted once more to the new duchess before he moved back to the stall. If Bron wasn’t mistaken, the man actually started to whistle.
“Has something happened?” Aeron studied him carefully. Her smile was gone and back was her serious look of concern.
“Overnight?” Aeron laughed, but the sound was humorless. He thought of his long, unfulfilled night on the couch. “No. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
“Ah.” She relaxed. “I thought maybe, from your expression, that the Tyoe might have done something.”
The Tyoe. Of course, that is what she was thinking about. That is all she ever seemed to be thinking about. Bron suddenly found himself very jealous of this mysterious, technologically advanced, conquering alien race. He willed one of them to attack just so he could punch the creature in the face and relieve some of his frustration. He glanced at the green-tinted sky. No such luck.
“They gave us Ugly again,” Aeron said, pointing at her ceffyl. She actually reached out to touch the animal’s back and patted it lightly. “The stableman asked if you were going to want the same mount, that big beast we took from Alek. I told him that was probably fine since that was the animal you rode in on, but I wasn’t sure how the system works. Do you just take any animal from any stable that you want?”
“It is fine,” Bron said, even though Alek’s beast was a temperamental creature that needed a consistently firm hand from its rider. Not exactly the top choice in the stables. “Most of the ceffyls belong to my family, but the royal family uses them as they see fit in exchange for taking care of them. It is an old system, but it works well enough for all.”
Automatically, he helped her onto her mount. When she was balanced and her dress arranged around her legs, he mounted his steed and directed it to move with a light tug of the center horn. The creature obeyed and began lumbering forward. Aeron’s beast followed him. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw her studying his hand as if trying to mimic his movements.
They rode along the far edge of the practice field, up the overlooking cliff toward the mountain paths. As the way widened, he moved his mount to the side to let her ride next to him.
“Do your
people always travel this much?”Aeron asked.
“This much?”
“I have been on a ceffyl everyday since I’ve come to your planet. I just wondered if it was normal.” She adjusted on her seat, stretching her back and arms while trying to maintain balance.
Bron hid his smile as he stared forward. “No. It is not usual.”
“I am glad to hear it. I do not think my body can take much more of this bumping around.” She adjusted uncomfortably on the animal’s back, as if to prove her point.
There was nothing he could do to make the ride easier for her. “When we get home, we will be able to get some rest.”
“Home,” she repeated softly. He felt a wave of sadness wash over him from her. Their connection was growing and he wasn’t sure how to stop it, or if he even wanted to. Her sadness tormented him, but without the connection he wouldn’t have been able to detect the emotion within her.
“I desire you,” he said, stopping himself. Clearing his throat, he said louder, “I desire that you should be happy with your new home. Whatever comfort you need, I will find a way to get it for you. Life on this world is not as rough as you may think. We do have technology, if that is what you need to be happy. What we don’t have, I will find. All you have to do is ask.”
She looked at him in surprise. “Did I complain? I did not mean to give the impression—”
“No, you have not complained, but I can sense the dissatisfaction in you,” he said. The mount, sensing his tension, tried to go faster. Bron forced the creature to slow to a steady pace.
“Dissatisfaction?” she repeated, slowly. She stared at his face. “So what the queen said is true. We will be able to feel each other. I’ve had this really strange feeling washing over me since I saw you at the stables. It’s…” Aeron closed her eyes. Bron felt her trying to pry back the mental blockades he had constructed to keep her out. With a sigh, he opened himself to her. She gasped. “I feel concern. Not fear, but… concern? Is that right?” She shook her head, confused. “Are you concerned about the Tyoe?”
His Highness the Duke Page 14
