“A better than fair idea, my sweet kébé, but we’re soon due at Amando’s banquet.” He chuckled, accurately reading her expression.
“How soon?” she asked hopefully.
“Soon enough. You will want Para to repair the gown I tore if you intend to wear it tonight. I also imagine you wish to bathe. There are things I must attend to as well.” Clever girl, Reule thought as her eyes narrowed in instant suspicion. He probably shouldn’t have woken her with the comment about his jealousies.
“Are you going to hurt Rye?”
“No.” Not until after the ceremonies, he thought, fresh anger radiating through him.
“Then why are you clenching your teeth?”
Reule sighed, the exhale releasing tension. “Because I’ll be dealing with him in the morning. I don’t look forward to it because I’ve never had to harshly reprimand Rye before. He’s usually warm and congenial, more dangerous as a flirt than anything else.”
“Which only goes to prove my point that it was grief that made him violent,” she didn’t hesitate to point out.
“I know,” he said, leaning back onto his side of the bed with a noise of frustration as he threw an arm over his eyes. “I have no idea what to do, Mystique. He must suffer a powerful consequence for his actions, yet I know you’ll be devastated if I make it a violent one. How do I please us both?”
“You know him, Reule. Enough to know how to punish him without making it a challenge. You must make the consequence equal to the act, but temper it with the knowledge that he’s in a great deal of pain already.”
“I’ll think on it. For tonight, I have a way of satisfying my need to see him squirm a little.”
“Oh?”
He laughed when she tried to sound nonchalant but ended up sounding terribly curious. There was a part of her that wanted to see Rye made to pay for his act against her, even if she would accept no violence. “That will be my concern. You’re…”
There was a brief knock on the door that interrupted him and Reule reacted with amazing speed, jerking a coverlet over her bare body. The fabric was still settling even as the door swung open to admit Drago. He carried a small tray and bustled in with his usual brisk efficiency.
“My Prime,” he greeted Reule without looking at the bed, “I hope you’ve enjoyed your rest. The ceremony will be—”
The Sánge attendant turned as he was setting the tray down and froze midsentence as he took in the tableau of his master and the woman tucked up tight against him. When he recognized the bloodred hair, he lost all coordination and the tray banged down onto the table with a clattering of its contents. Mystique had never seen him flustered before; his dignity was usually unflappable. She instantly had the urge to laugh, which she smothered by pressing her face against Reule’s bare shoulder.
“My…” Drago sucked air, searched for words, giving himself a fishlike appearance that worsened Mystique’s predicament. She snorted against Reule’s skin, which made him suppress a chuckle of his own.
“I rather recall the idea of knocking is to give an opportunity for someone within to respond,” Reule mused. He turned his attention to Mystique. “Isn’t that so, sweetheart?” She responded with a smothery snicker he took as a yes. “Very well. Mystique agrees with me.”
Reule was torturing the poor fellow. Drago had been with him for decades, and he’d always had free access to Reule’s chamber. Reule simply didn’t bring women to his own bed. Ever. He didn’t like the idea of the mark of a woman in his private chambers, so he’d always met his lovers elsewhere. It was quite possible that Drago fully understood the significance of what he was seeing: the declaration of an event he’d often complained about never seeing in his lifetime.
“My Prime! I beg forgiveness. I…of course I ought to have waited. It was…um…unforgivably rude. My lady Mystique, I’m most apologetic,” the attendant stammered as he kept his eyes strictly on the tray he was suddenly very interested in organizing. Drago had flushed an amusing shade of red, no doubt wondering exactly how bad his timing had actually been. Mystique gave him credit. Para would be stretched out on the floor by now. “I’ll just go get something I’ve forgotten,” he continued, edging toward the door without looking at the bed, “and I’ll return to help ready you for the ceremony in…uh…about…”
“Ten minutes,” Reule provided gently.
“Ten minutes. Just so. Excuse me, My Prime.”
The attendant dashed out the door, shutting it tightly behind him, and Mystique finally burst into irrepressible giggles.
“You’d think he’d never seen you with a woman before.”
“Well, I don’t believe he has,” Reule mused thoughtfully. “Certainly not in this bed. Probably never at all without at least a little forewarning to prepare his dignity for the affront.”
Her laughter ended so abruptly that Reule looked down at her curiously. She was looking at him with an indecipherable expression, and the wave of emotion coming from her had the chill of that fear he was beginning to associate with her past. Instantly disliking whatever she was thinking, he threw himself into her mind and read her thoughts, giving her no opportunity to hide.
“Yes, it’s true,” he said softly as he reached out to touch a thumb against her temple, brushing her in a tender caress. “No woman before you has been in this bed, and no woman beyond you will ever be. I won’t pretend to have never had lovers, kébé, nor will I pretend you won’t run into a few in my court. This is a closed society, you being the first outsider to ever take up permanent residence here. It makes for a lot of gossip and few strangers. But I promise you this, there will never be anyone else for me so long as we draw breath together, and beyond. Anyone who tells you otherwise will be a liar and an enemy to you. Therefore an enemy to me. I’ve barely begun to love you, but I can already swear to you that it will take me a great deal of time and energy to satisfy myself with you, Mystique. I’ll be fortunate to find the stamina to rule, never mind take a mistress.”
He got a smile for his efforts with that remark. Still, it didn’t light her eyes and he knew she wasn’t certain, just as she wasn’t certain where her conviction that all men were philanderers came from. It marked her deeply, but he felt her powerful desire, as always, to trust him. He’d said all he could on the matter. It would be up to her to come the rest of the way.
As he’d said earlier, the more she regained snatches of memory, the less he liked it, for her sake. She’d been far more bold and confident before this. Then again, she’d also not felt her heart was at risk before. He could understand her caution. He’d felt it keenly himself, that fear of potential hurt.
That thought was followed by the realization that if she felt her heart was at risk, it meant her heart was actually involved. She’d said nothing to him of her feelings for him. Not even a hint. Just that she was willing to allow him to love her. But her fear hinted at so much more, and it made his pulse dance with joy. He hadn’t asked for her love. He’d hoped to win it slowly through time, trust, and contentment. This was a promising first step, and he felt happier than anyone probably had a right to feel.
“Come!” He leapt out of bed and grabbed her, swinging her onto her feet in a rush that sent the blanket flying off her body. He held her naked figure against his for a long moment, reveling in the sensual warmth of her and her amused chuckles. “Get dressed so Drago can feel at ease about returning. It’s time you had Para ready you for the banquet. Wear this red,” he encouraged her as he scooped the dress from the floor, frowning briefly at the wrinkles. “If you think she can repair the damage I’ve caused,” he said ruefully.
She smiled at him as he gathered the dress and dropped it over her head and arms. “Must it be this red, or any red, My Prime?”
He grinned at that. “You mean Para has given you more than one?”
“Well, there is a black velvet that is quite beautiful,” she said, leaning into him as he frowned slightly, “and it has your crest, My Prime, in a repeating chain of red around the hem. Also, here.�
�� She leaned back and ran her palm along her neckline to indicate the path of a second, smaller chain of crests. “Only the neckline is far lower, so it will actually come across here…”
Reule watched with a suddenly parched throat as she swept slow, teasing fingers in a dip over her breasts. So slowly, in fact, that she stimulated herself, the perking up of her nipples under red velvet sure proof of that.
His crest, across her incredible breasts.
The idea had the most intensely satisfying erotic effect on both his mind and his body. It almost landed her in bed again, on her back with her skirts tossed up around her ears.
“Wear the black,” he commanded her in a growling rumble that made her laugh at him, her light eyes dancing with mirth. He was happy to see her usual spirits returned, even if it was at the expense of his overheated body. There would be plenty of time after the ceremony to make her pay the price for her mischief. “Now, off to Para with you,” he said, dragging her to the door by her arm and using a spank on her backside to propel her out into the hall. “Drago! Get in here,” he barked to the attendant he’d known would be waiting close by in the hall. He grinned as he listened to Mystique giggle all the way down the corridor.
When Drago closed the door, sealing away the last of the bright, wonderful sound, Reule moved to inspect the contents of the tray brought in earlier. It was all the decorative emblems required when he dressed in state. Two rings, chain of rank, a belt decorated with his seal in front, and several short gold chains, with small hexagonal rubies set within and his seal etched on the surface, to be affixed in his hair, also an indication of his rank. One day, he hoped this regalia would be seen by delegates who came to visit Jeth City with respect, without fear, without prejudice. He knew it was possible it wouldn’t happen in his lifetime, but he did wish it.
Drago’s silence was notable and he turned to see the attendant brushing out the handsome choice of black trousers, a black shirt, a golden vest with red embroidery, and a ruby red evening jacket that tied low enough to display both the vest and the shirt beneath. He would look all of the Prime Packleader paying his deepest respects to an honored friend and colleague. But usually Drago would be trading bits of information with him about the preparations, the goings-on in the keep that might be of interest to his Prime. Not chatty, not like Para, but informative and discriminating. His quiet was telling, and Reule became aware of his tight displeasure.
He frowned. “Out with it, Drago. What troubles you?”
“It’s not my place to say, My Prime,” he responded politely.
Reule grabbed up the robe Drago had draped on the end of the bed, tying it on. He faced the attendant once more. “Don’t play the demure servant with me, Drago. We both know it’s horseshit.”
Drago turned, his almost black eyes gleaming with hard repressed emotion. “May I speak freely?”
“As you dare,” Reule said, his permission just as tight as the request.
“Or as you do,” Drago countered instantly. “How can you possibly take a woman like that to your bed? It’s shameful and a disgrace! You completely disregard—” Drago broke off with a squeak when his Prime was suddenly nose to nose with him, a low, vicious growl of warning turning over in his throat.
“You watch your tongue regarding Mystique, valet, or you will find yourself feasting on it!”
“I won’t, and I beg your pardon, My Prime, but how dare you treat such a fine woman in so low a manner! Tumbling her like a common…common…well, she’s not like the women you’re used to! She’s good and caring and she has no idea how to handle a male of your experience!”
Reule snorted out a laugh. She’d been handling him better than fine since the instant she’d first looked at him with those diamond eyes of hers. The Packleader had to blink through his surprise as Drago flushed bright red with indignation. The man’s dignity had flown out of the window, as had his unswerving loyalty, apparently, as he prepared to furiously defend the honor of…
Of a foundling girl who had clearly made her mark. At first he’d thought Drago was insulting her, calling her common or beneath his notice, but in truth, he realized with no little shock, the valet was acting as though the opposite were true.
“Drago,” he said sharply, cutting off further retort with a raised hand. “Do you think so ill of your Prime? You’ve known me for much of my life. When have I ever taken an innocent girl—a fertile innocent, at that—to bed without regard to the consequences?”
“Well, I must say that was why I was so shocked when I saw…” Drago blinked. “Well, then, you mean you’ve considered the consequences?”
“Happily,” Reule said dryly. “It’s good to know my honor is so easily doubted when it’s supposed to be the mainstay of my rule.”
“Oh, but I—! That is to say, I didn’t mean…Well, yes I suppose I did, but I knew you were terribly attracted to her, and she to you, and I thought perhaps it just got out of control…perhaps in your grief. The entire Pack has been acting so out of spirits.”
“They are grieving,” Reule said carefully. “We’ve never lost Pack blood before.”
“It shows,” Drago said gravely. “Rye isn’t himself at all, contentious and full of rage. Delano ceaselessly stalks and prowls every hall and every chamber open to him. Saber walks the walls and rides sentry without sleep. Chayne won’t leave his quarters even though Mystique finished healing him two days ago. And Darcio…”
“What of Shadow?” Reule demanded.
“Merely the fact that you don’t know should tell you something, My Prime. When has he ever left your side willingly?”
He’d seen none of them for days, only felt their anger and grief as it ran through them all in a ribbon of anguish that flowed in repetitive whips. He’d closed his thoughts to them, and theirs to himself, unable to bear the added intensity it would bring. He was intending to change his isolation now that the Depths had concluded. Being solitary, yet together, was a normal way of grieving. He hadn’t even considered Darcio’s absence. Or anyone else’s, for that matter.
“Damn selfish of me,” he muttered. “Seems like a lot has been going on in my keep right under my ignorant nose.”
“You’re not the only one,” Drago said with pointed dryness, glancing at the mussed bed.
Reule chuckled, casting off the pall of worry. He would straighten his house up over the next week, starting tonight. “Relax, old friend. I plan to keep her very close and in just as high esteem as you apparently do. I’m glad to have your reaction, truth be told. I was wondering how others would accept our relationship.”
“Do you care?” Drago queried.
“Care? Of course. Worry? Not in the least. It’s a subject not open for debate, and adjustment will come in time. I have faith in my people.”
“Well, I know you’ll have little to no effort to make amongst the commoners,” Drago remarked.
“Oh?” he asked as he moved into the adjoining bath and began to wash up and get dressed. He needed to see the Pack before guests arrived.
“Yes. My lady Mystique has been making quite an impression these past few days. She cured the farmer’s boy Stebban and he’s already gaining weight. She’s been working steadily in the infirmary ever since. Word of mouth, I suppose. Like wild flatland fire, My Prime. Though you might want to have a closer care for her if she’s going to be…um…”
“Prima, Drago. You can say it. She will be Prima. Before the end of this month, if I have any say about it, and I think I do. And she will have a Prima Shadow in her Pack first thing, trust me.”
“Oh, yes, a wise idea. But I was more concerned with her health.”
Drago looked up when there was a soft clatter and his Prime came to the entrance between bedroom and bath, half shaved, and narrowed his hazel eyes on him. “Would you be so kind as to explain that?”
“Of course, My Prime. Our future Prima has no heart for turning people away. She is with her patients from dawn until late at night. When she retires, she’s exhauste
d and can barely stand. Para and I have had to walk her to her bed between us these past three nights.”
“Are there so many sickly among my people?” Reule looked flabbergasted at the idea of the powerful Sánge being so afflicted.
“They are when the fires burn them. Then she heals Chayne on top of a long day. Winter comes, the elders have various physical complaints. Many ailments have gone long neglected because of that man she rightly labeled a charlatan.”
“And he will pay for that, I promise you,” Reule muttered angrily as he returned to his grooming. “She didn’t work today. I found her on the battlements.”
“She takes an hour twice a day to escape onto the battlements. I think it overwhelms her, all the healing and the mourning. She clears her head and then returns.”
“You seem to know a great deal about this.”
Drago was no fool. He tried not to smile as he recognized the jealousy lurking in his master’s tone. “Para keeps close to her, and I talk to Para. I often visit and try to help.”
“And your suggestion? I know you have one, so don’t even think of hedging.”
“Just that you limit the gate. No callers for healing after dusk or before a decent hour.”
It was a fair and simple solution. But Reule would have to discuss it with Mystique first. He had no intention of making decisions that would affect her without consulting her first. Playing Prime over her, however much he had a right by birth to do so, wouldn’t be a way of gaining the trust he so craved.
“Thank you for the information. You’re right, she wouldn’t turn anyone away and would work herself into a coma if she thought it would help someone. I think it might be wise to find her a promising apprentice as well. She knows much that has nothing to do with her naturopathic power. She has a great deal of knowledge, and passing it on would eventually ease the medical burden from her shoulders.”
“The fewer her burdens, the better. Being Prima will be burden enough.”
“I don’t deny that,” Reule agreed grimly. “But I’d lay fair odds that she’s up to the task.”
Drink of Me Page 23
