Storm backed slowly onto the surface of the pool. He was strong in Rayne magic, and easily kept the surface firm. Reaching out, he wrapped his arm around Losha, holding her tightly to him.
“How could I do this?” He sent a venomous look at Temair. “Because of our wonderful Lady,” his hate-filled gaze shifted to include Lady Rayne, “Because of our benevolent Queen I am forced to marry someone I can’t stand the sight of, a woman who is selfish, cold and manipulative.”
Dathan edged slowly toward them. “Why not petition Lady Rayne to be released from the betrothal?”
“I did!” Lady Rayne blinked and covered her mouth with her hand, looking ill. “The Lady,” he sneered, “turned me down. As did our glorious Queen. Apparently the demands of that woman carry more weight than the pleas of a mere man.” The Healer clutched the little maid closer. She clung to him, looking grief-stricken. “I love Losha,” Storm announced, “and she loves me. I will do whatever is necessary to ensure that she and I remain together. More,” he continued, “I will do whatever I may to ensure no other man is forced into an unwanted union. The abuse must stop. It will stop.”
Dathan felt a moment of pity for the man, and a moment of confusion. Why would his mother have denied Storm’s request? For that matter, why would the Queen? Then the image of Temair, limp and lifeless on the sandy bottom of the lagoon filled his mind, and pity gave way to resolve.
He raised his hands, gathering his Rayne, and the surface of the Reflecting Pool began to churn beneath the Healer’s feet.
“You have committed treason, Storm. You must pay for your crime against the Crown Princess, against the Children of Rayne and against Emetra.” He threw his hands out, and his Rayne formed two snaking whips that would wrap around the traitorous Healer, capturing him in unbreakable bonds.
“We. Will. Not. Go. Away.” Storm’s eyes lit with an unholy glow as he held his hand flat over the seething waters of the Reflecting Pool. Clearly straining, he made a fist and jerked his hand upward, pulling up a solid wall of water between himself and Losha, and Dathan.
Dathan’s Rayne slammed into the wall, instantly dissipating it, but Storm and Losha were gone.
A bellow of rage ripped from his chest, and he was distantly aware of the way everyone around him stepped cautiously away. Everyone except Temair and Miach.
Turning to Temair he wound one hand in her hair and dragged her body against his. Lowering his head, he crushed his mouth over hers trying to say with his kiss what he wasn’t ready to say in words. You’re safe. I’ll protect you. Mine.
Miach growled low in his throat, loud in the hushed silence surrounding them, and Dathan broke the kiss with a grim smile. Turning to Darmon he ordered, “Take her back to her rooms.” The guard raised a brow, but didn’t argue. Miach growled again, louder, and Dathan wondered what pissed the Consort off more, his public display of affection, or his ordering around Temair’s guard as though he had the right to do so.
He watched for a moment as Temair and the other princesses followed the guard back into the Villa, then closed his eyes and stretched out his senses, sending his Rayne deep into the Reflecting Pool.
Chapter Nine
Temair paced in her rooms impatiently. She’d kicked Nuriel and Sorcha out almost immediately after arriving, needing the silence to consider her situation. There was an organized plot to assassinate her. She hadn’t even ascended the throne, and she was hated already.
Temair was well aware that not everyone in Emetra loved her mother. The Queen often had to make difficult decisions, and more than once Temair had seen her mother agonize over the choices she was forced to make.
To make matters even more complicated, Temair understood Storm’s anger. A male in Emetra did not have the option of breaking a betrothal contract; only women had that prerogative. Still, it was unsettling that both his Lady and the Queen had dismissed his petition with what appeared to be very little investigation.
It was an issue she would have to look into when she returned home, though at this point it was far beyond remedy. At any rate, she could do nothing about it until she’d collected all four Consorts. Her tour had to come first, before she could ascend, before she could look into Storm’s accusations and the rebellion that she suspected was much more serious than any of them had realized.
The doors to her room opened; the noise made her jerk in surprise. Miach stepped in, his face clouded with his customary scowl. He met her questioning look with an abrupt shake of his head.
“We couldn’t find the bastard, but when we do I promise I am going to shred him in two before I burn his bones to ash.”
Her Fyre awakened as it recognized its match in Miach. Fighting the tremor of fear that threatened to overwhelm her, Temair walked into Miach’s embrace. He opened his arms and wrapped them tightly around her. She instantly calmed, feeling safe in her Consorts arms.
“You will be accompanied by guards at all times.” Temair sighed into his chest, but before she could utter a word Miach placed a finger under her chin to tilt her face up so he could rest his forehead against hers. “No arguments. Nothing is more important than your safety. Not even your preference for solitude. I will not risk you to these rebels.” His eyes crackled with emotion. “I cannot lose you, Spark. My Fyre would die without you.”
Tears threatened at his intense words. Her feelings for the Fyre Warrior had grown with every day spent in his company, and she reveled in the idea that his might have, as well.
“I know you’re right, my Lord Husband. And I’ll allow your guards to follow me around.” His mouth tilted in that almost smile that she loved, and she felt her heart skip a beat. He was so beautiful. “I have no desire to die, Miach. And thank you.” He raised a brow in question. “Thank you for taking such wonderful care of me.”
Miach kissed her, slow and deep until she felt the Fyre melting through her like warm honey. She could taste his fear, like ashes on her tongue, and the burn of his determination to keep her safe.
Her mother had told her once that finding a true Consort was like discovering something new about yourself. Every moment with Miach, Temair discovered new reserves of strength, both magical and emotional.
She knew that if she took Dathan as her second Consort, she and Miach would both discover new facets to themselves. Now she just had to convince Miach that was a good thing.
* * *
Miach sighed and pressed his forehead to hers again when she broke their kiss. He knew what was coming next and thought he’d prepared himself for it until she spoke the words.
“I’ve chosen Dathan as my Second Consort.” Miach took a deep breath as dread and something he absolutely refused to name squeezed his heart.
“He is frivolous, and far too easy-going for my comfort.” Temair rubbed her smooth cheek against his and smiled. Miach wanted to smash something. “He goes out of his way to piss me off on a continual basis,” he muttered. “He gets off on annoying me.” It was a losing argument and he knew it, but it was all he had. “Have you considered what kinds of things he will teach our daughter?”
Temair laid her hand on his chest, drawing heat from his body. “I imagine he’ll teach her how to enjoy life, as you will teach her to be a fierce and disciplined warrior.” Ah, yes, his daughter would learn to fight as well as anyone on Emetra.
“Miach, I would never make this match if I thought it would truly hurt you.” She pulled back and met his gaze. Her deep brown eyes now held flecks of amber fyre and blue rayne, and were more beautiful than ever. “You and Dathan are more alike than you think.” He frowned and she laughed softly, pressing a warm kiss to his chin. “Yes indeed, my warrior. You are both strong, brave men who have taught me new things about myself. You will both protect me with your very lives.” She kissed him again, a soft press of her lips against his. “I know that Dathan says things to make you crazy, but you have to admit that he only does it because you rise to the challenge.”
He knew her arguments were sound, and that she was
right. He still didn’t have to be happy about it. He contented himself with the promise that if Dathan gave him any trouble, he wouldn’t mind kicking the Rayne Lord’s ass on a regular basis.
Miach drew a deep breath and reached for the calm he always felt in Temair’s arms. He took her hand in his and lifted her fingers to his mouth, and spoke softly against her skin. “I will stand by your decision, my Queen, because I know your heart and I know that it’s one of the most beautiful things about you.
* * *
She found Dathan staring moodily into the Reflecting Pool.
“So serious, my Lord.” She moved to stand in front of him, reaching up to rub gently at the frown creasing his brow. “Are you all right, Dathan?”
The look he gave her was one of pain and fury combined. “Me? I’m not the one who was nearly murdered by our so-called Healer.” Temair wrapped her arms around him and snuggled close, sharing the warmth of her Fyre and the comfort of her embrace.
She let him bask for a moment, for which he was grateful. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed her until she was in his arms. Finally she pulled away and met his eyes, the blue in hers swirling hypnotically.
“I need to speak with you before tonight’s dinner,” she said, every inch the Queen now.
“You’ve made your choice then?” his frown deepened.
“I have chosen my Second Consort.”
* * *
Dathan’s stomach knotted as he waited for his Princess to continue. How things in his life had changed to quickly. He loved his life as it was, had no desire to take on the responsibilities of being a Royal Consort. With her shy smile and passionate ways, not to mention her First Consort -- who Dathan had come to care about almost as much as the Princess herself -- Temair had completely changed his priorities. He wanted to hear her name him as Second Consort.
She laid her hand on his chest, looking up at him with such a serious expression he wanted to kiss it off of her face.
“Dathan, I want you as my Second Consort. If you agree, I intend to ask your mother tonight at the feast. Do you accept my proposal?”
Dathan’s heart leapt as she spoke the words he’d have sworn he’d never wanted to hear. Those words soothed him like a thirsty man who’d been given a drink of cool water.
He leaned forward and softly kissed her forehead. “I am already yours, sweetheart,” he told her, only now realizing just how true the words were. “I will gladly be your Second Consort, Temair. I would have been broken-hearted had you chosen another.”
Her eyes were shot through with blue sparks as she pulled him down to seal his acceptance with a kiss. Dathan’s Rayne swirled inside of him wanting to merge with its mate.
She broke the kiss but stayed in his arms. “There is one thing you must promise me.” Her voice was deadly serious now, woman and Queen in full agreement. “You must be careful with Miach. It’s one thing to tease in fun. It’s quite another do or say something that causes him true distress.”
Dathan smiled. His Princess had such a beautiful heart, and the capacity to love so freely. Her protection of Miach just made Dathan love her more. Love? He nearly missed what she was saying under the weight of the realization. He was falling in love with the Crown Princess, with the woman who would be Queen. With the woman who would be his wife.
“If things between you and Miach grow into something more,” she was saying, “then it must be because Miach desires and is ready for it, too.”
“I understand, my Princess, and will do as you bid where Miach is concerned,” he mumbled softly, still stunned by the knowledge he had somehow, when he wasn’t paying attention, fallen in love. She smiled broadly and his heart squeezed, reminding him how extraordinarily beautiful she was.
“I’ve chosen very, very well, I think,” she murmured, pressing a soft kiss directly above his heart.
* * *
While tonight’s feast was much more subdued, it was still grand. At Miach and Dathan’s insistence, they’d moved inside in the interests of security. Temair sat to the left of Lady Rayne; Miach, Sorcha and Nuriel lined up to her right. On the other side of the Lady sat her sons, Dathan first, followed by the rest of the men in order of age. Temair had to agree with Nuriel’s whispered assessment that they provide a feast for the eyes that rivaled the succulent meal laid out on the table.
Through the meal Dathan watched her. She felt his blue-black eyes on her, roaming over her body. He even gave Miach several sloe-eyed winks, which caused her Consort to stiffen with what she was sure was pure annoyance. She carefully kept her smile to herself. Life with these two promised to never be boring.
After the servants had whisked away the emptied platters and dishes, Temair rose and turned to her hostess. The Lady stood as well, facing the Princess with a solemn expression as the room fell silent.
“Lady Rayne, I formally petition you. I have chosen Dathan first son of Villa Rayne as my Second Consort, and ask the Lady if she is agreeable to my choice.” It was so much easier this time, the petition. Unlike her claiming of Miach, this claiming was deliberate, well thought out.
The Lady’s blue eyes widened and darted to Dathan, who’d come to his feet and waited with a tiny smile quirking his full, sensual lips. Her eyes misted and her expression filled with oceans of affection as she inclined her head. “Yes Princess Temair, I give my eldest son over to you as Second Consort.” Her eyes danced in a way that reminded Temair rather vividly of Dathan’s. “Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?”
Dathan grinned and rolled his eyes, and she heard Miach’s snort of amusement behind her, and she was filled with such peace and joy that she thought she might burst.
Dathan moved to stand before his mother. “Not nice,” he murmured, still smiling, and bent to kiss her brow. Turning to Temair, he surprised her by dropping to one knee. Lifting her hand to his lips, he pressed a light kiss to her fingertips before pressing her palm against his jaw. The room erupted in celebration as Temair reached behind her for Miach’s hand, drawing him into the circle of emotion. Her fyre and rayne surrounded her in love and warmth, and Temair soaked up the perfection of the moment.
* * *
This was a very different wedding ceremony. While the words were the same, the energy in the air was not. Where at her marriage to Miach the air had pulsed with tension and excitement, the witnesses of Temair’s Rayne wedding radiated pure joy until she felt wrapped in a blanket of happiness.
They stood in the center of the Reflecting Pool, the heart of Rayne’s magic. A large enchanted mirror stood to the side, next to Lady Rayne and her newly returned husband. In spite of the gravity of the situation, Temair couldn’t help but note that Dathan came by his stunning looks honestly.
The Queen and her Consorts looked on calmly. Temair was sure she was the only one to notice the hint of a question in her mother’s eyes. Torrent, her Rayne Sire, had skewered Dathan with a searching look, and she wondered what her father thought of her choice for Second Consort.
Sorcha stood next to the Officiant, leaving Miach to flank Temair along with Nuriel. The Princess of the mythical lands had a speculative gleam in her eyes, one that Temair knew Miach probably shared. She’d felt his body tense as he stepped onto the temporarily firm surface of the pool and suspected that his insistence on wearing his boots was causing him some difficulty in balance. They may be wicked sexy, but she knew the thick soles would keep him from sensing the subtle shifts on the surface that would make graceful balance possible.
All those perceptions dimmed as Dathan stepped forward to face her. His eyes glowed almost solid blue, giving the appearance of sunlight through deep water. His full lips curled in a smile that was so clearly anticipation that Temair felt things low in her belly go liquid and hot.
“Princess.” The priest’s voice was a musical ripple. “Have you chosen your Second Consort?”
“I have,” Temair responded with a smile that echoed Dathan’s. His eyes filled with a quiet joy at the firmness of her
response, a calm different from the easy-going c’est la vie she was accustomed to seeing there. She’d almost venture to say he seemed… focused.
“And of what House do you choose, Princess?”
“I choose my Second Consort of Villa Rayne.” A rush of happy murmurs surged over the gathered Children of Rayne like ripples dancing on the surface of a pool.
“And whom do you choose?”
“I choose Dathan, first son of Lady Rayne.” She almost felt Miach sigh beside her and spared a thought to hope this marriage was the right choice for her Consort as well as for Emetra.
“What say you, Dathan, first son of Lady Rayne? Will you share your Rayne with your Princess? Will you comfort and defend her? Will you strive with her to build and protect a strong Queendom?”
Dathan’s gaze never left hers. The unmistakable joy and satisfaction took on a depth of commitment that seemed to validate her choice. “I will do so,” his voice was firm and sure. “I offer the Lady my body, my Rayne, and my protection.” The words might be rote, but the promise in his eyes was not.
“My Lady Ambassador?” The priest gestured Sorcha forward. She gave Temair a small smile. She might have some reservations about Dathan, but Temair knew her friend would unconditionally support their union.
The flame-haired princess faced Temair with two delicate silver cuffs lying on her palms.
“Sister of my heart, fellow ruler and friend.” Her words were soft, but firm. “Will you accept the bonds of mating as a symbol to all that you are bound to your people, the Children of Rayne?”
Temair held out her wrists for Sorcha to enclose in the cuffs. “I will do so,” she answered, her voice as soft and resolved as Sorcha’s had been.
Sorcha turned to Dathan, who gave her a mischievous smile. She reluctantly returned the expression as she lifted heavy silver cuffs to present to him. “Dathan of the Noble House of Rayne, will you accept the bonds of mating as a symbol to all that the Children of Rayne are bound to the support and protection of their Queen?”
The Queens of Merab 2 Temair’s Rayne Page 8
