tightly and his concern filled her awareness, as her sight started to return. She was finally ready, finally mature. Artemi was a full, unfettered and powerful wielder. Passerid was staring, wide-eyed at her. But she moved her gaze to the king, the man who had wronged her captain so appallingly.
“Let it go, my heart,” Morghiad said in low tones. “Now.”
The fires burned furiously through her soul, permeating every muscle with its sheer might. Passerid took a step closer on his horse, and she readied herselfto blast him out of the way.
“No.” The kahr reprised her hand and set about extracting her from the power she held. Artemi fought it vigorously, aware that she had the upper-hand with the Blazes coursing
through her. “Artemi.” He grabbed her jaw and turned her face until she met his eyes. Those eyes...
“My apologies for interrupting your lover’s embrace -”
They both moved their gaze to the king, and the wielder felt her power dissolve to the corners of her mind. But it was still there, glowing with its fiery warmth.
Acher continued, “Well, you are holding up my hunt. And I want to get on with finding some tasty deer. Off with you children!”
The kahr gave a curt nod, and kicked Tyshar firmly to a fast walk. Once they were out of earshot he pulled the animal to a halt and dismounted to speak to her. “I thought you were going to blow everything to Achellon! What is to become of us if I cannot hold my
temper and you want to destroy everything in your path?”
“I wanted to...” she sighed as she shifted in the saddle. “It seems the summer needs the winter, too.”
He smiled, and began to laugh. “I don’t think you’ve ever needed anyone else to achieve anything.”
Artemi allowed him to feel her annoyance. “The only thing I would have achieved without you would have been my own death.”
“How could anyone with eyes permit that?”
“Quite easily, judging by the number who’ve tried.” Artemi fiddled absent-mindedly with the reins on the pommel of Tyshar’s saddle.
The kahr placed his hand on her leg. “They were simply bitter that they could not bed you.”
“Even the eisiel? And the entire rogue army in Kemen?”
“Of course,” Morghiad said. He almost seemed to believe it.
Artemi looked down at him with her chin raised. “You are a fool.”
“This fool has what no one else has.” His grin remained unchanged.
“I thought you said you could never own me.”
“I often own your company.” Morghiad reached around her waist to pull her from the saddle.
She swung her left leg across and slid down to join him on the ground. “I am your
soldier, so you own me as you own your sword.”
“But now you are free to wield that weapon as you wish. Why don’t you have some fun? Surprise me.”
Artemi smiled broadly and reached into the rolling flames of the Blazes. Perhaps Cadra ought to experience a little sunshine against the cold.
As she turned to leave the room, Artemi’s braid flicked from her shoulder to her back like a bolt of golden fire. Morghiad admired the figure-hugging, green scarves that caressed the curves of her sinuous hips. He found his love for her had transformed into something of a deep obsession over the years, and his hunger for her had grown rather than waned. Being locked away from Artemi was going to be the toughest trial he had ever faced. And he would have to face it very soon. Though she didn’t know it yet, she was nearly ready to rule. He had taken every opportunity to school her in the ways Calidell was run: dropping tid-bits into conversations, getting Silar to tell her of his secret network and its findings, introducing her to those he hoped to elect to government, even bringing items for
administration into their chambers. Artemi did not seem to suspect that he intended to place her solely on the throne, and he did not know how much longer he could keep it from her. She, like much of the army, believed that he would assume the role of king once Acher was dead.
But other developments had made the situation more pressing. First off, Artemi had started experiencing regular headaches, and they seemed to be growing in magnitude and duration. Morghiad had done his best to explain them away, but he was pushing her trust. She knew he was keeping the truth of the headaches from her, and had even started to describe events which only could have occurred in a long-distant past. His second problem was one of the king’s benay-gosa,
Suhla. Incredibly, Acher had managed to keep the girl around for nearly nine years, and rumour was that she would fall pregnant very soon. If Suhla did produce an heir, all of Morghiad’s careful planning would have been for nothing. Even more troublesome was the man King Acher had hired to guard his benaygosa. There was something about him that made the kahr’s skin itch. He was not a man pulled from the ranks of the Calidellian army, but hailed from Forda in the north. Hegard was a mercenary, and as far as Morghiad could tell, only interested in money.
The door slid shut behind Artemi and her guards; he didn’t like leaving her unattended when she had nowhere to conceal a sword. He felt her contentedly striding away from him along the hard stone floor; the flame
of her in his mind bobbed in anticipation of some freedom. The captain looked across at the assembled men; the ones he trusted the most to care for her and Calidell in his absence. They were among the few who knew of his plans. Silar was there, of course; Toryn, still as cold towards the kahr as ever; Koviere, useful for his knowledge of her from before - if not just his excellent swordsmanship; experienced Beodrin, who seemed to have adopted Artemi as a second daughter; Passerid and Jarynd, for obvious reasons; and Orwin, who had the potential to make a fine lieutenant once either Beodrin or Silar became captain. The matter of captain was something Morghiad still had to decide on. Outside of the army he had prepared a number of excellent administrators, treasurers, and men of law. Finding sympathetic governors from the provinces had been tricky, but Silar had been indispensible in locating seven very reliable ones, including his own father. “Any news from Lord Yardinehr yet?”
The blond man shook his head. “I think he is nervous of agreeing to support her in writing, but I know he will be very useful once she is... in place. But Cadra is far more important for her. She has some concrete support here, especially as the rumours about her being some long-lost hero of the past seem to be circulating like wildfire.” Silar grinned broadly, clearly proud of himself.
Morghiad nodded. “Good. Beodrin, have you managed to find any more out about Suhla?”
The stocky man regarded him gravely. “I found a little man in the castle archives.
Dorlunh. He found the admission document for her. It is dated to the end of the first month, 3207 PD.”
“Then it is only four weeks away...” Orwin half-whispered.
Toryn cut in. “The timing is not always that precise.” He practically glowered at Morghiad. “What are you going to do to make sure Artemi does not end up in this situation?”
That was just what he needed. At the last meeting it had been questions about marriage and now he was being pressed over this? How awkward did the man want him to feel? “I am hardly going to be able to achieve that from inside a prison cell, now, am I?”
“Break her heart and I’ll collect your head,” Toryn stated for a fourth time. At least the older man was in a better mood than usual; the new woman Toryn had taken seemed to be doing him a world of good. Artemi had found it tough at first, no longer the only female in his life. But she had offered her usual warmth to Sindra, and the two women seemed to get along famously these days.
Jarynd rubbed his gnarled chin. “How long before Artemi remembers?”
Morghiad sighed, “About a month.” They would certainly have to pre-empt things to be sure there were no loose ends.
The captain turned his emerald eyes to Koviere. “I want to know how the old Artemi would react to being told she was to be queen.” He should have asked months ago, b
ut had feared hearing the answer.
The giant creased his rectangular forehead into a frown. He still seemed to think
Morghiad ought to be king, and still found their relationship an oddity. “You know, there are some differences between this girl and the woman. Trying to tell her what to do was like attempting to put a hurricane in a box. She won’t agree to something like this unless you give her no choice. Don’t tell her until Acher is dead and she is walking to the throne.”
Toryn grunted.
The kahr didn’t like it either. He felt like he was lying to her about so many things. “No one will be able to put her in a box once she’s queen.” He stood and paced the room.
“No, indeed. We are all moths to her flame, are we not?” Silar commented absently.
Morghiad was doing the best for her and for the country, wasn’t he? “And currently we push that flame about where we please.” It
was the only way. Fight to save what you love. Destroying Acher was a part of that. He wasn’t doing it purely out of hate. Not quite, anyway. The window looked out onto the entrance courtyard and beyond, the dark grey wall. A light sprinkling of snow covered the untouched surfaces like a dusting of icing sugar. He could sense Artemi was just entering the city proper, exchanging banter with her guards. “There is still the matter of captain to be dealt with. I need someone who can keep everything together... but still make best use of their respective skills. I’ve had a thought: Beodrin, you should be captain after me. And Silar, I believe you would be best-placed as general. Orwin and Toryn can fill your current positions.”
There were some raised eyebrows.
Silar raked his hand though his hair. “Shouldn’t Artemi be Calidell’s general? Even ignoring tradition, her experience considerably outweighs ours.”
He was right, but it was likely she would have her hands full of other problems. “Acher uses the army outside of Calidell purely as tax enforcers. Silar, you have an opportunity to do something different with them. ThoughI am sure Artemi will offer her advice if you ask.”
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Orwin whispered.
Morghiad allowed halfa smile to escape. He hadn’t quite come to terms with it all, either.
A wave of unexpected heat brushed at Morghiad’s neck.
Passerid screwed his face up.
“Wielding in the city? Is that her?”
The kahr grinned to himself. He had been very underhanded over the matter of wielders. “Not Artemi. Ignore it, it is not dangerous.” Acher had been thinking himself paranoid at seeing all the recent strange lights in the city, and every kanaala had denied it was Blaze-related. It was very satisfying to see at least one of his plans come into beautiful fruition. These women had been specially picked for their willingness to tease the king, but also for their integrity. All were relatives of the people he trusted.
“I thought they were only supposed to do that at night,” Passerid said.
The captain nodded. “They have permission to place images before Acher, day or night. I suppose they’re just more visible at
night.”
“You are a crafty man, Morghiad Jade’an,” Koviere sighed with not insignificant amusement.
The meeting turned to matters of law enforcement. The kahr wanted the castle gaolers removed entirely and replaced with some more honourable types, though it was awkward to advance the idea given that he was their prospective tenant. He had to serve through his punishment for what he was about to do, and how those men would treat him mattered nothing. What worried him was their fervent loyalty and apparent direct chain of command to Acher. Morghiad doubted they would be quick to switch allegiance to Artemi, but he hoped to leave Cadra a garden free of thorns for her. “Silar, has Sergeant Neleum
been dealt with?”
The lieutenant grimaced. “He won’t be stabbing Acher any time soon, though he wasn’t easy to persuade.”
Morghiad nodded with approval. He felt fire burn deep into her skin, and snapped his head to the window. A kanaala had touched her. She felt... concerned.
“Beodrin, are all the other kanaala in the castle today?”
The stocky man nodded with a puzzled look. “Training as you requested, lord-captain.”
Artemi had turned and was headed back towards him. “This meeting is finished.” Morghiad swept out of the room, cloak billowing in his wake. He knew instinctively that Silar was following him; he was the only one who knew of the significance of the kahr’s link
to Artemi, though others suspected. “She’s alright, Silar. Iwill deal with this.”
No one was behind him when he next looked back into the gloom of the halls. He trotted down the steps as fast as he could without running and paced to the main courtyard. The red-haired woman was already walking through the main gate when he reached the portcullis, five guards flanking her like a dark halo. Her expression was of measured calm, which belied the worry inside.
Morghiad clasped her by the uppers of her arms. “What happened?”
Her features tightened. “I was in the market. It was so busy, so crowded and someone... a kanaala, brushed against me. They know. They know I’m a wielder, and whoever it was is not someone we know.”
“Didn’t any of you get a good look at him?”
Artemi shook her head. The guards looked at the floor, embarrassed at their failure. “There were hundreds of people there. It could have been anyone,” she added.
Morghiad grimaced. He couldn’t sense other kanaala in the way he could wielders. Just like Artemi, their abilities remained invisible until touched. He could scour the entire city and never find this man. A trap would have to be laid instead. “It’s alright, I’ll keep you safe. I made you a promise that I would.” He embraced her tightly. “And I’m sure you could deal with him adequately yourself, if it came to it.”
Artemi half-laughed into his chest, the tension lifting from her muscles.
The kahr released her and stood back to stroke a hand through her hair. “Dismissed,
men.”
The guards filed offtidily and left the pair alone.
She did look very beautiful in her white fur and green satin coat as it swirled about her body. Thick flakes of white snow began to gather in her auburn hair, settling like spring flowers. Artemi interrupted his reverie, probably tired of his incessant stares: “Let’s go back to your rooms.”
Her flame was growing cold. Morghiad removed his symbol-emblazoned cloak and wrapped it around her, which she seemed to find rather amusing. He held her close as they walked back to their chambers. Along with her headaches had come an increasing desire for
independence. She wanted to be out riding, walking or practising with the sword when he was busy with his own duties and she abhorred asking his permission. The kahr wanted to accommodate her in all these things, to give her some freedom and anticipate her moments of claustrophobia. But it was difficult when her life was at stake; difficult when her life was so important. The more he cared for her, the more he realised he could not keep hold of her, and yet the tighter he wished to grasp her.
“What troubles you? Are you missing your cloak already?” She smiled up at him as they walked.
Morghiad moved his hand to her waist. “No. What would you like to get up to tomorrow?”
“With you?” She felt hopeful, and
mischievous.
“I’m sorry, Artemi, I have another meeting to sort out this government. Likely it will take all day. Is there somewhere you’d like to visit or perhaps I can send a good sword hand to fight you?”
She shrugged. “I’d rather stay close to you for the moment. I’ll remain in the castle, if that’s where you’re having the meeting.”
He nodded.
“There are still parts of this building I’ve never explored.” Artemi pulled the cloak so that it fitted around her more snugly. “It’s going to happen soon, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
When they entered his apartments she drape
d his cloak over the back of the armchair and sat him down on the edge of the bed.
There was no question that she commanded him in private. “I have a gift for you.” She grinned.
Morghiad hoped it would be something he could take to the cells with him.
She went to the dresser, upon which a wrapped package lay. “I had this delivered from a shop in the city. I don’t expect you to like it immediately, butI knowI have chosen well...” Artemi handed him the soft parcel.
He frowned. She ought not to be buying anything for him. “My la -”
“Shut up and open it.”
Morghiad obeyed and set about unwrapping the gift. Whatever it was felt weighty and flexible, like heavy fabric. He felt half excited, halffearful. When the last of the paper had been removed he spied folds of deep, blue
velvet; so dark it was almost black. It looked and felt rather expensive. The kahr gazed up at her, about to speak.
She cut him off again. “Find out what it is first, and then you may reprimand me.”
He carefully unfurled the material and laid it on the bed next to him. It was a fulllength, perfectly tailored coat, split for riding and subtly edged in gold. Morghiad had never owned anything so understatedly extravagant.
The Fireblade Array: 4-Book Bundle Page 40
