Prince of Fire

by Linda Winstead Jones

  The Red Queen would give him that strength.

  The demon had no voice, and still Maccus heard the censuring words. In his mind, they echoed.

  She is to be bathed in the blood of her lover when you wed her.

  “Yes, I remember that instruction.” The wedding must happen beneath the full moon, when she draws the power of the animal into her blood. Do not touch her until that moment. Do not touch her!

  Damned demon had been reading his mind again. It was more than annoying when that happened, but he imagined that when they were joined, it would be even more so. Such was the price for a power beyond all imagining.

  “I will wait as you command,” Maccus promised. “I will be … patient.”

  See that you do. With that, the wisp of black smoke was sucked into the earth once again.

  Maccus could—and had—defied many more powerful than himself and succeeded, but he was not foolish enough to deny the demon. Promises had been made; a pact had been formed. There was no turning back now… not that he was at all tempted to do so.

  With the demon absent, Maccus closed his eyes again and reached out for his Queen. His Red Queen.

  *

  10

  Keelia’s sleep was deep, and for the most part all was black and quiet. Now and then she drifted toward consciousness and heard a familiar voice. Joryn’s voice. He said things Joryn would not say, so she decided the words were part of a dream. Odd, since she had not dreamed at all the last time Joryn had rendered her unconscious. Not that she remembered, in any case.

  She woke slowly, gradually coming to understand that she was being carried. Not gently, as you might imagine a Queen would be borne, but draped over Joryn’s shoulder like a sack of meal and horribly jostled as he walked and climbed at a quick pace. A moment later, she realized that she was naked, and that her hands and feet were bound.

  Her insides fluttered insistently.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, trying to make her voice cold, and failing miserably.

  “Don’t pretend you don’t remember exactly what happened, Your Persistent and Very Naked Majesty.”

  She’d wanted Joryn desperately, and she’d done her best to get him. The priestesses who’d seen to her training since the age of fifteen had told her she would be irresistible when she set her mind on seduction, but apparently that was not the case. In this way, as in so many others, she was a failure as Anwyn Queen. She was different from all those who had come before her. For as long as she could remember, she’d been told that she was special and powerful and unique. She would give anything to be more like the women who had come before her; women who had not failed in the simplest of tasks.

  She wanted Joryn now, but did not find herself in the best position for another attempt at seduction. Just as well, since that attempt would likely also fail.

  That didn’t mean she wanted him any less. Joryn’s skin against hers was wonderfully seductive. Always, but especially now. Draped over him as she was, she felt him everywhere, and her insides fluttered again. His skin was so close, she could not help but inhale his arousing scent. That scent alone was enough to make her quiver deeply.

  She pressed her bound hands against his bare back in order to steady herself, and to feel his wonderful skin. All she wore was the silvei bracelet he had given her, and it brushed against his nicely muscled back just as her fingers and palms did. Her thumbs raked against a particularly attractive muscle; the tips of her fingers swayed.

  The heat of her fertile time had always been strong, but now that she knew what it was like to have a true lover, now that she understood the depth of the sensations of making love, the heat was beyond strong. It was dazzling. It was unstoppable. She closed her eyes, and imagined Joryn pushing inside her, again and again.

  Her hands balled into fists, and she moaned. Her body lurched slightly.

  Joryn sighed. “Not again.”

  “Yes, again,” Keelia snapped, forcing her mind away from the fantasies of love. “How long was I unconscious?”

  “All last night and through the morning. The sun is high in the sky at this hour.”

  Less than a full day. Two more full days, plus a little more, before this need eased into something more manageable.

  “Stop for a moment.”

  Joryn’s answer was a harsh burst of laughter.

  “Please,” she said softly. ‘This is a very uncomfortable position. I only wish to stretch my aching limbs.”

  “Your commands didn’t work, so now you’re going to try begging?”

  “I did not beg!” Keelia insisted. “I simply said please. It’s not the same as begging.” No matter how desperate she felt, she would not be reduced to pleading for relief of any sort.

  Joryn did stop, and he very gently placed her on her feet. She could barely move at all, since her hands and feet were bound, but that didn’t stop her body from reacting when she looked at her lover. Small insistent explosions throughout her body demanded that she take what she needed from this man. She had survived many fertile times without feeling quite this way. She’d meditated, and dreamed, and visited her own unreal world, but she had never been tempted to demand that a man ease the pain for her. Even now, she did not want anyone else to lie with her. True, no one else was here, but even if she had her pick of any brawny Anwyn or this Caradon, there would be no choice at all. Joryn was hers.

  “We could make love, and right before you—”

  “No,” Joryn interrupted. Then he laughed again, with that harsh bark. “Keelia, I want you to listen to me very carefully.”

  “Of all the things I want to do to you, listening is very low on the list,” she said honestly.

  He took her by the shoulders and made her look him in the eye. “Do you remember how the one beast who held on to^his soul fought for it? Do you remember how he battled for what was right, for what was his?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “You must fight now, Keelia, and dammit, so must I.”

  “Because you hate the Anwyn.”

  He opened his mouth to answer and then clamped it shut again, “What difference does it make why I fight?”

  Tears welled up in her eyes but did not fall. She was so certain that he was the one, and he dismissed her for her Anwyn blood, just as she had once dismissed him because he was Caradon. With nothing but desire clouding her mind, that detail seemed so unimportant. Why could he not see that her blood didn’t matter?

  “I must be very pathetic to you, needing something only you can give me and suffering for it even though I know you despise me for what I am,”

  “I do not despise you.”

  “Any other man would give me what I need.”

  Joryn reached out arid touched her face. He did not know how dangerous that simple caress was. “We were brought together for a momentous cause, Keelia. We are here not as man and woman, but as Caradon and An-wyn. We are meant to fight the evil that has infected my people and will soon infect yours if we are not successful. I will not deny that I have very much enjoyed our time together, when we have set aside our calling for pleasure on occasion, but that does not mean there can be anything more. Whether I am saved or not, I cannot leave a child with my gift behind, and you cannot go back to your people carrying a half-breed babe.”

  “But—”

  “You know I am right in this.”

  Keelia closed her eyes and swayed. “You don’t know how strong this desire within me is.”

  “I think I do,” he responded.

  He did want her. Perhaps she wasn’t a complete failure, after all.

  “You are right in all you say, but right now I can’t think of anything but what my body needs. It’s never been this difficult for me,” she confessed. “I’m always anxious and twitchy during the fertile days, but the occasional trance takes care of the problem for me, at least for a few hours. Last night, it didn’t help at all. I turned around and there you were, and even though I had just experienced release through my visi
on, at the sight of you I hurtled beyond control.” She sighed. There was only one solution. “You must make sure I’m unconscious for the entire three days.”

  Joryn shook his head. “No. You need to eat and drink, and—”

  “I can survive two more days without food and water, but I can’t survive this!” Her claws began to emerge.

  Joryn didn’t back away from her. He reached out and clamped his hand on her wrists. “Stop,” he whispered. “Control it. I know you can, Keelia. I know you can. You have the strength and the bravery to fight anything. Even this.”

  The claws retracted, and she felt a small sense of control in her traitorous body. She wanted to forget who she was and become nothing more than an animal intent on making sure the species survived.

  Which species?

  But Joryn was correct. She was not here for herself, but to stop the dark magic that had dared to invade her mountains, and Joryn’s. She took a deep breath. “All right. May I put on what’s left of my frock?” There was likely npt much of it remaining, since she recognized the strips of gold fabric that had been used to bind her hands and feet.

  “As much as I would love to cover your distracting nakedness, I can’t figure out how to get the gown onto your body without untying your hands.” Joryn gave her a pained smile. “I didn’t plan very well last night.”

  It wasn’t as though he hadn’t seen her naked before, but when he carried her and her skin brushed against his… well, any amount of clothing would be better than none. “Next time you render me unconscious, you can untie my hands and put my clothes on and men re-bind my hands. It won’t be easy, since I will not be able to help you at all, but—”

  “I’ll do it.”

  They rested for a moment before continuing on. There was little dried meat left in his pack, and Joryn didn’t dare leave her alone to hunt for meat, so he fed her sweet, wild berries, slipping small pieces into her mouth and waiting while she chewed and swallowed. He held the wineskin of water to her mouth, and administered a few drops at a time. Those simple and necessary gestures seemed to Keelia to be madly intimate and arousing. His fingers so close to her mouth, his care of her so tender.

  She fought for control, as the beast who had helped them defeat the monsters had fought, reminding herself that if he could endure great pain to hold on to his soul, she could fight the surge of desire she felt whenever she looked at Joryn, or when his fingers brushed against her lips as he fed her.

  No matter how she fought, the desire continued to build until she felt like she would scream, or break the bonds and attack him. She could escape from these bonds, but she was not quite that far gone. If she remained conscious, however, there was no telling what she might do.

  Joryn ate quickly, and then made as if to touch her throat. She instinctively lifted her hands to cover the vulnerable spot. “Before you do that, can I have a moment?’

  “A moment for what?”

  Release, sanity, false love. “A moment of meditation.”

  He groaned. “Do you know how hard that is to watch when I can’t touch you?”

  “Turn around or shut your eyes,” she suggested. “I must do something.” She closed her eyes and began to take long, deep breaths that would put her in a trancelike state where she could have a false visualization of what she needed so desperately.

  She very quickly found herself in a meadow as usual. Joryn was beside her, naked and smiling and wonderfully aroused. In her fantasies he loved her very well. He did not tell her she wasn’t good enough for him, or cringe at the idea of giving her a child. He did not talk of duty or darkness or death. No, in her fantasies, he gave her everything she wanted. In her fantasies, he obeyed all her commands.

  *

  Juliet was certain that half the Anwyn army and her three eldest sons were searching for the missing Queen, but she refused to wait for them or turn away from the path on which she knew Keelia had walked. Her psychic powers had been adversely affected by something of late, but she fought for knowledge and chased down the trail she instinctively knew her daughter had taken. Ryn did not question her or suggest that they wait for assistance.

  “We are deep in Caradon Territory,” Ryn observed without slowing his step.

  “Yes, I know.”

  “Have you given any thought to the prophesy? Is that why we are here?” She could hear the worry in his voice. He had always been concerned about the foretelling of the union between the Red Queen and a Caradon lover. She didn’t think an entire day had passed since Keelia’s birth that Ryn had not given the dreaded prophesy some thought.

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “Perhaps.”

  “So you will be warned,” Ryn said with an uncustomary glint of steel in his eyes, “if we find our daughter with a Caradon, I will kill him.” His words were calm, but the threat was a real one.

  Juliet was guided by her magical instincts, but soon her Anwyn senses told her just as strongly that Keelia had been along this path. Days old, the scent was unmistakable. Ryn caught the scent, too. She knew by the way his step increased and the glint in his eyes grew harder.

  It wasn’t only Keelia’s scent that guided them, but that of a Caradon male.

  *

  Joryn had never considered himself the self-sacrificing sort. He enjoyed his independence, even though he studied rigorously with the Grandmother and did what was expected of him when she asked. It was his obligation to refine die gift he had been given. When called, he had not hesitated in the mission on which his teacher had sent him, but he had always known that when his duty was done, he would go back to his old life. He spent time honing his magic and always would, but he was not wedded to any schedule, and when he grew tired of studies and exercises, he was always free to leave the Grandmother and the other students and explore other regions of the vast Mountains of the North. He’d even ventured into the valleys below, mingling on occasion with the humans there. If he was very careful, they never knew that he was different.

  But he never stayed long in places where he did not belong. He always returned to the mountains he considered his. It was invigorating to run and sleep beneath new skies, to wake not knowing what each day would bring.

  Watching Keelia yearn for him and not touching her was definitely an acute form of self-sacrifice. Like her, he had to dig deep within himself for control during these long days. When he faltered, he imagined a half-breed son or daughter with his gift, growing up in The City without the proper training, without being taught the necessary control. Perhaps if he survived, if they really did find the wizard and destroy the stone, he might consider Keelia’s notion that they were meant to be together.

  If any woman could entice him to sacrifice his beloved freedom, it would be this one.

  Tomorrow her fertile time would be finished, thank the gods. The inconvenience of the timing had cost them dearly; the journey was considerably slower than it had been, since he had to carry her unconscious body and the way was not always an easy one.

  He reached a plateau, and while Keelia had directed him as to which way to go, she had not told him there would be a fork in the path. He didn’t know which path to take, so he gently laid her on her back and took the opportunity to rest.

  She looked peaceful enough, lying on the grass unconscious. There wasn’t much left of her dress. The hem now hit her well above the knees. Short women didn’t usually have such nice legs, in his experience, but hers were fine—as was everything else about her. Yes, if any woman could tempt him to change his life, it would be her.

  It wouldn’t be long before she woke. When that happened, he’d feed her, allow her to relieve herself if it was necessary, ask her which path they should take, and then render her unconscious again.

  There was much more at stake than his personal freedom. He’d do well to remember that fact when he was tempted by her.

  He heard her breathing change before she opened her eyes. She came awake not with a start, but languidly, as if she were lying in her own
soft bed instead of on the hard ground.

  “Why did we stop?” she asked, her voice lethargic.

  “There’s a fork in the path,” he explained. “I wasn’t sure how to proceed.”

  Keelia sat up, graceful even though her hands and feet were bound. She studied both ways, and a small wrinkle appeared between her eyes. “One leads to the wizard, the other leads to …” Her head tilted. “Death. One path to victory, one to the end. One to the stone we seek, one to a great fall.”

  “Which is which?” he snapped.

  Keelia’s eyes met his, and he saw the worry there. “I don’t know. If you would open yourself to me, if you would stop hiding, maybe I could see your future and in that way I would realize which is the right path.”

  Joryn started to explain that he was not hiding from her, and then he realized the truth of what she said. She’d been right all along. He was holding back. Subconsciously at first perhaps, but still, thanks to his magic, he had the ability to keep his thoughts from her.

  His inborn magic, or a mate’s right?

  Keelia looked down at her bound hands. “Maybe the bracelet still comes between us. I never should’ve put it on. Take the blasted thing off and toss it over the cliff, and then perhaps I will be able to see what lies ahead for you.”

  Joryn reached out and attempted to gently slide the bracelet from her wrist. With the bonds there, crisscrossed over the silver, the task was impossible. He drew away after a cursory attempt, as he could not bear to touch her any longer. She was much too tempting, even now.

  “Perhaps later.”

  Keelia lifted her hands. “You can untie me. I’m fine, truly. The difficult time has passed. I think we handled it quite well, don’t you?”

  He reached again for the golden bonds, relieved that he would no longer have to carry her, but he stopped before he actually touched her hands. “You said the fertile time would last three days. It’s been two and a half.”

  She sighed dramatically. “Fertility is not an exact science, you maddening Caradon. Perhaps the length of time was shortened because the heat came early.”