by Autumn Dawn
Her friend quickly shook her head. “No, no ... um, I don't think so, anyway."
"You don't think so?” Jasmine demanded. “Haven't you been ... ah, there's ways of...” she stumbled to a stop, aware that she was entering deep waters. She didn't really want to know the details of Rihlia's sex life, not when the partner was her husband.
"I know that,” Rihlia ground out, defending herself. “But it's not always ... sometimes there's just no time to—” She waved her hand in embarrassment. “He's a good-looking man. I'm no saint. Sometimes I just don't remember.” Jasmine grinned, and Rihlia said a little testily, “You should talk. What about you and Keilor?"
The grin disappeared. “What about us?” she asked, wary. “I mean, there is no us. No me and Keilor. I can hardly stand him."
"That's not what it looked like earlier,” she said, cocking her head with doubt. “He might have been the instigator this time, but I might as well tell you I'm not the only one who's noticed you checking out his assets.” She dipped a slice of apple in caramel sauce and popped it in her mouth. “Urseya gets greener by the day."
Jasmine rolled her eyes. “Can I help it if the man has a fine rear end?” she muttered in irritation. Her friend snickered, and Jasmine smiled a little. Growing more serious, she added, “But it doesn't mean I plan on pursuing him or anything.” Frowning, she lifted her face to the soft afternoon sunlight falling on her face, enjoying the warmth. “I'll leave that to his fan club."
"Jealous."
"Smart,” she retorted. “A guy like that doesn't need another woman to inflate his ego.” She lifted her glass, took a sip of water, and gestured with it. “What I need is a nice, steady guy who'll respect me. Someone who wants to get serious.” She tapped the glass with one finger and scowled. “Someone who doesn't have half the palace population drooling at his feet."
"Be fair,” Rihlia chided her. “The only ones you've actually seen chasing him are Urseya and maybe yourself."
"I do not chase him! And you have to admit, the man got that ego somewhere.” They shared a moment of silent agreement.
Rihlia slouched in her chair, propped her elbow on the armrest and considered her friend thoughtfully. “What's it like? Being a celebrity.” She smiled when Jasmine made a face. “I'm serious! If half the female population is chasing Keilor then the male half is chasing you. What's it like?"
"A nuisance. Truly,” she insisted when her friend looked skeptical. “It is fun at first to get all the gifts and flowers and things, but after a while it starts to feel like you're the only one at Christmas that forgot to get everyone a gift. I feel guilty because I can't do anything in return.” She grimaced. “Certainly not what they might like.” She sighed and toyed with her empty cup. “It's not like I can bake cookies for that many guys, and I can't give them anything in return. I don't have a dollar to my name."
Rihlia suddenly straightened, and a devious smile lit her face. “What's the one thing all these men have in common?” When Jasmine just gave her a blank look, she prompted impatiently, “You. They all want you."
Jasmine shrugged. “So?"
"So I propose we give them what they want,” she answered, triumphant. “Not that!” she insisted when Jasmine opened her mouth to object. “A contest, with the winner receiving a date with you."
Jasmine bit her lip. “I don't know...."
"It's perfect! We'll just go to Jayems and ask him to help us set it up."
Jasmine squirmed.
"Ah, come on, Jasmine, it'll be fun! Just like being the prom queen.” Rihlia jumped up to get a paper and a pen. “Let's see ... we're going to need..."
Jasmine sighed, resigned. Besides the fact that Rihlia could be relentless when she came up with a plan she wanted Jasmine to participate in, she did have a point. But if it was such a good plan, why did she have such a sinking feeling of disaster?
Chapter 7
Lady Liselle had six daughters, and all of them appeared to be in heat.
Jasmine shook her head in disgust as Fallon sauntered past her on his way to the buffet table, dripping women. Keilor—who stood near the window wall at the other side of the formal dinning room in Rhapsody's private suite—was nearly as bad. True, he seemed to be subtly holding the women at bay, but no doubt only because he knew his aloofness only made them more determined.
"A caramel truffle, Lady Jasmine?"
Jasmine stifled an exasperated sigh and turned her attention back to Lady Liselle's only son, the ever-annoying Joffre. Forcing a smile, she answered, “Why not?” When she tried to take it from the lanky young man, he smiled teasingly and placed the treat at her lips. After a chagrined pause, she bit it in half with one quick, efficient bite.
He popped the remaining half into his mouth, savoring the treat. “Mm. Delicious,” he purred in imitation of a deep, sexy voice. “How do you like it?” he asked, as if he'd really been talking about candy.
The caramel was truly delicious, but she answered the question he'd really been asking. “It's very nice, but a little rich. I think a little bit would go a long way."
Joffre was either a trifle stupid or foolishly overconfident in his own charm, for his smile deepened. “The more you taste, the better you'll like it."
Jasmine clamped her teeth firmly together and looked away before she succumbed to the urge to find another caramel and stuff it up his nose.
A delicate dessert glass was thrust into her hand and she looked up with surprise at Urseya's voice saying, “Begone, Joffre. You're annoying the girl.” He opened his mouth to protest, but a single raised brow from Urseya silenced him. With a resentful nod to her and a deeper one to Jasmine, he left.
"Pestilence,” Urseya murmured with distaste, sipping her wine as she watched him go. “He never did understand when he was unwanted.” Her eyes shifted to Keilor and she grimaced. “Disgusting, isn't it?"
Jasmine followed her gaze. One of the daughters placed a manicured hand lightly on Keilor's lower spine. “Very."
Urseya eyed her with undisguised curiosity. “Did you know that Keilor is very wealthy?” At the surprise in Jasmine's eyes, she nodded. “His wealth rivals even Jayems, and Jayems is not a poor man."
"I hadn't realized,” Jasmine looked down, uneasy. She didn't want to know about this part of him. “I was always too busy being annoyed at him to think about it."
Urseya swirled the wine in her glass. “Mmm. He is also widely famed as the best warrior in the realm. His prowess and absolute fearlessness on the battlefield are legend. All of that, combined with his handsome face and prominence among the lords make him irresistible to women."
"Hence his large head,” Jasmine returned tartly, and Urseya smirked. If Urseya was trying to make her feel bad, she was succeeding. What would a handsome, famous, wealthy warrior possibly want with someone like her, long term? Not that she was chasing him, of course, she hastily assured herself. It was just a little deflating to be proven so right. “Why are you telling me this?” she surprised herself by asking. Perhaps she merely wished to see if she'd get an honest answer. “I thought...” She trailed off, not quite willing to say it.
Urseya had no such qualms. “That I was jealous? Of course I was.” Her eyes dilated in thought. “Until this afternoon.” She smiled with self-deprecation. “Keilor made it abundantly clear that I was not his choice and never would be. Even my mother, bless her ambitious soul, got the message.” She looked at Jasmine appraisingly. “But I think you wish to know why I would bother with you now.” She raised a brow. “Clan pride, of course.” When Jasmine just stared at her, she said dryly, “You're making us look bad, my dear."
It took a moment for Jasmine to find her voice. “And how is that?” she asked, skeptical. She couldn't remember doing anything embarrassing lately, but maybe that was the trouble. It was possible that in her ignorance she just might be tripping up.
Urseya sent a scathing look Joffre's way. “Men,” she informed Jasmine. “Galling as it is, the mindless fools can't seem to stay away
from you. It's plain that you don't care for their attentions, yet here I see you, time and again, biting that delightfully acid tongue to keep from offending them."
"How do you know it's ‘delightfully acid'?” Jasmine asked, annoyed. “I haven't used it on you yet, have I?"
Urseya grinned. “Your face speaks loudly. Here is the first thing you must learn; speak your mind. You may have been an orphan once, but now you are part of the most powerful clan in the Dark Lands. Cultivate some arrogance and pride. You'll need it.” Urseya moved away to speak with one of the daughters not currently attached to either Fallon or Keilor, leaving Jasmine to consider her wisdom.
She didn't know about pride and arrogance, but perhaps Urseya had something of a point. She had been biting her tongue an awful lot lately, and it was beginning to gall. Considering her rather ... unique position, perhaps it would be smart of her to discourage her would-be suitors with more strength. After all, a walking aphrodisiac would have to use strong medicine to kill the virus, wouldn't she?
Noticing Joffre heading her way, she quickly put her new strategy into motion and moved off in Keilor's direction. If nothing else, watching the spectacle over there ought to provide some entertainment. She chose a spot by a potted date palm, near, but not too near, Keilor and his harem, and eavesdropped with shameless interest.
Keilor knew that she was there, but he hardly spared her a glance. He was still angry with her over her dismissal that afternoon. He'd been particularly enjoying watching Joffre torment her, though if Urseya hadn't intervened when she had, he might have had to step in and drive the puppy off. Whatever her motive, Urseya had allowed him to continue pretending to ignore Jasmine. Let the girl learn that she would rather be the one receiving his attentions, not watching as others took her place.
Unfortunately for his plan, Liselle's eldest daughter, Cara, noticed the Sylph right away, and she was not known to tolerate rivals. “Don't stand in the corner, Lady Jasmine. Do come join us."
Jasmine took one look at Cara and decided they were unlikely to ever be friends. “Actually, I'm quite comfortable here,” she answered, leaning back against the wall and taking a slow bite of her dessert. “Besides, I wouldn't like to interrupt your ... conversation,” she said dryly, looking at Cara's hand on Keilor's arm. She lifted a careless shoulder. “If Keilor wishes for fresh conversation, he can come to me." Jasmine didn't know what made her use that particular tone of voice, or that precise look, but suddenly she felt like Lady Dracula, because Keilor came to her, and she knew he hadn't planned to.
She could see it lurking somewhere in his eyes, the realization that she had compelled him, and fury that she would dare. But the foremost, most frightening thing of all was the unleashed golden lightning of desire in his eyes, the promise of absolute, unrestrained passion.
It terrified her.
Keilor planted one hand on the wall behind her, barely leaving her room to breath. “What would you have, my Lady?” he breathed against her lips.
"B-back off!” she squeaked, but he didn't move an inch, and the fire in his burning eyes didn't cool one degree. “J-Jayems!"
Jayems was beside them in an instant. He took one look at Keilor and seemed to know. He placed a calm hand on his shoulder. “Keilor, my friend, I need some advice on a certain matter. Do you think you could spare a moment to confer me?"
Keilor moved his head slightly.
"It really is quite urgent. Would you mind?"
Jasmine held her breath as Keilor slowly peeled himself away, allowing himself to be led off. Only when the door closed behind them did she dare to breathe.
"That bitch!” Keilor raged. “She actually enspelled me!"
Jayems took a deep breath. “She is as shaken as you are angry—"
Keilor bared his teeth at him. “I doubt that is possible.” He clenched his fists, shaking with fury, and when he looked around his room, he did not see the dark, heavy furniture or notice the lack of light. He saw her face, heard her voice calling, come to me, and rage spurred him again. “Send her away,” he told his cousin harshly, slashing his hand through the air. “Send her back to her world."
"That might have been possible, if I hadn't promised Rihlia that they could have their tournament."
Keilor's eyes narrowed. “What tournament?"
"It was Rihlia's idea. Jasmine wished to thank her suitors for their gifts, but since she had no money to send gifts in return—” He rolled his eyes. Both men knew that as her lord it was his duty to pay for her expenses, and he would have rather bought a hundred foolish gifts than deal with the trouble his wife's fine idea would bring. “I immediately arranged for an allowance, but Rihlia would have none of it. She insisted that ‘Jasmine didn't want to cost me any money'.” He shared a sardonic look with Keilor. Rihlia had no idea what it would cost to hold a tournament worthy of the Haunt. Jayems shook his head in disgust. “By the time we left the others tonight Rhapsody was already planning to hold the tournament as a prelude to our wedding feast."
Somewhat distracted from his ire, Keilor allowed himself to sink into his favorite, battered leather chair. Why was it that all the trouble in their lives of late came in the form of a woman? A woman, he thought angrily, who'd called the undefeated Lord of the Hunt to heel with one phrase from her traitorous Sylph lips? Come to me ... He closed his eyes at the humiliation of it. How could he insure the safety of what family he had left if the Haunt knew that their Warleader could be brought to his knees by the voice of a woman?
"And what is to be the prize in this ‘cost nothing’ tournament?” Keilor asked bitterly. “A chance to drink wine from the Sylph's cupped hands? A sash of scarlet embroidered with her name by her own hand?"
Jayems laughed without humor. “Nothing so traditional, my friend.” He paused, knowing he was about to hear an explosion. “The victor receives a night with Jasmine."
Keilor was on his feet in an instant. “No."
"They will be chaperoned, Keilor. By two of the strongest Haunt I can find,” Jayems assured him.
"I said no!” Keilor shouted. The thought of another man being allowed so intimate a time with her, even with others nearby, sickened him. “I will not allow it."
Jayems’ eyes hardened. “Who speaks to me now, Keilor? The Master of the Hunt, or the man?"
Stricken, Keilor clenched his fists and turned his back on him, a thing he had never done in his life.
Jayems continued relentlessly. “You speak to me this way, and yet you have made no binding claims on the girl. Why shouldn't I allow this? She needs a mate with all speed, and to find one, I must allow her time with any man of her choosing.” He paused to lend his words weight. “Make your claim or stand aside. I've been patient long enough."
Keilor's voice was hoarse with years of pent-up anguish. “I will not be bound by a woman.” Just saying the words aloud conjured memories long since locked away.
Jayems closed his eyes, hurting for the man he loved like a brother. “That was years ago, Keilor. Jasmine has nothing to do with it.” He softened his voice. “She's nothing like Yesande."
"Nothing?” Keilor growled. “What was tonight?"
Jayems forced his tone to remain implacable, no matter how his heart ached for his friend. He well understood why Keilor fought this so hard. “Then bind her to you. Make her be the one aching for you. Seduce the Sylph until she is the one waking in the night, crying out your name. But either way, let this now be finished."
Jasmine wandered the halls that night, long after she should have been asleep. She never noticed when Keilor took the place of her guard, wearing the unadorned black uniform of a lower ranking soldier. Silent, he followed her to the moonlit steps she'd visited before and watched as she chose a stair and bent one knee, bracing her back against the wall. She stared at the moons for a long time.
"There is only one moon on Earth,” she said softly, at last. “It is very strange. It's never really dark here in these Dark Lands. I think I'm homesick.” She took a ragged breat
h, and slowly her head sank down to her knee. “I want to go home,” she whispered, sounding very young. She sat there for a long minutes with her arms wrapped around her knee, shaking, her breathing shallow and uneven. “I just want to go home."
Jasmine sat down cross-legged on the grass and waited for one of the villi to come to her. All she had to do was sit still until one of the tiny giraffe-like creatures decided she might make a good playmate—or so the morning maid had assured her. No one else had been about, and Jasmine assumed the women were off on another shopping expedition.
She sighed, rubbed a thumb along her black pants and glanced at the villi. Every once in a while one of the black and tan spotted creatures would eye her and then go back to browsing on their long manger of brush.
It would have been nice to see a little more of the citadel, especially the merchants, but Jasmine never said as much. Even if she could have gone, she didn't want to. Who could enjoy shopping with every male in the vicinity gawking at you? Thinking of males naturally brought Keilor to mind, and she slouched. She hadn't seen him in two days, and tomorrow was the day of the tournament. She wondered if he would avoid the event, and her, altogether or go just so he could cheer on the victor.
One of the villi lifted its head, stared her disdainfully for a moment and then went back to its browse.
Against her vigorous protest, Jayems had upped the stakes of the tournament, and the entrants now numbered in the hundreds. Not only were the cadets she'd originally wished to thank invited, but several men she'd never heard of had also been asked to join the contest for her on the second day; the first was reserved for those who simply wished to prove their skill, though Jasmine would be awarding the prize.
The little villi who had stared at her took a step her way and then dropped its head and nibbled at the long grass as soon as it saw her looking. Jasmine looked back at her hands.
She hadn't liked it one bit when she'd found out that the tournament was going to be a trial by combat. She didn't want men getting bloody over her. When Jayems had lifted a brow and asked what other kind of tournament there was, and she'd explained that she'd been thinking more along the lines of games, he'd snorted disdainfully and looked back at his guest list. And that, as they say, had been that.
