by Meg Anne
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered brokenly, “I don’t know what came over me.”
He shook his head, “No, Damaskiri, you do not apologize.” His voice a soothing murmur.
Kragen placed his large hand on her shoulder, “You are our Damaskiri,” he rumbled, “and sometimes that calls for a display of power. You are a natural, Helena.”
She blinked up at him in surprise. He had never referred to her by her name before, and the purposeful use of it now could not more clearly reflect his admiration and approval. As she looked at the men around her, she could see that they all approved of her display of temper, and that knowledge brightened her mood considerably.
Darrin wrapped his arm behind her shoulders and squeezed, giving her a gentle hug. He let go just as quickly and took his place at her left.
With a deep breath, she met the eyes of the four men that were becoming so dear to her, “Well, now that we’ve cleared that up, shall we go eat?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Kragen quipped.
The others laughed and made their way to the main tent for the feast.
Chapter Three
Stepping into the tent, Helena paused in delighted awe. Centered in the Air Wing of the Palace, the tent had been erected in its courtyard. Where there should have been fabric walls, there were sweeping views of the six different lands, each scene fading and bleeding into the next. One moment you were viewing a vast ocean with waves crashing against the shore, the next an endless forest with the trees so tall you could not see where they ended. It was a perfect tribute to Tigaera’s visitors.
Before any of her Circle could ask what was keeping her, she hurried to catch up with them. At the northern end of the tent, a long table had been decorated in purples and golds, with a countless number of candles ablaze and flowers spilling from their various vases.
Murmuring her approval, Helena took her seat in the center; her chair an echo of the throne she had sat in during the welcome ceremony.
Turning to her right, she asked Darrin, “Did you ever think we would end up at one of the royal feasts?”
His green eyes flashed with humor. “This is hardly my first royal feast, Hellion.”
“I wasn’t aware they let the Rasmirin attend the feasts. Aren’t you lot supposed to be out protecting and defending?” she teased.
Straightening his tunic before looking at her from the corner of his eye, he smiled wryly and admitted, “To be fair, I never said I was an invited guest.”
Helena’s laughter rang out, causing many of the nearby guests to turn and see what had caught her attention.
Turning back to scan the room before her, Helena continued, “I just can’t believe that only days ago I was at home at the cottage and now I’m here.” As she looked about the room, her eyes scanned and cataloged the familiar faces.
In front of her and slightly to her left, Micha and Gillian sat and spoke animatedly with a gray-haired man she assumed was their father. Behind them, at another table, Von sat with a contingent of his mercenaries. She noticed the people around him were stealing glances and whispering furiously to their dinner mates.
As if feeling her attention on his, Von glanced up and caught her eye. He nodded and smiled slightly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Instead, his brows were lowered, as if puzzled.
Flustered, Helena looked away, trying to recall the names of the other faces her eyes stopped upon. She noticed Amos speaking to another of the men that had presented themselves to her... Harris? She guessed, embarrassed that she had already forgotten so many of their names.
The blond man had been very soft-spoken, and she had trouble hearing what he had said even standing directly before him. His gift had been the... she paused, searching her memory, the bracelet, no... was it the music box? She shook her head sighing in defeat, eyes now continuing their journey about the room.
Her eyes stopped once more, colliding with a pair of coal eyes staring at her intently from a grizzled face. The face was twisted in a scowl, but before she could place it, or discern the expression in those dark, calculating eyes, they were gone.
Suddenly cold, Helena shivered causing Darrin to reach out and touch her arm gently.
“Are you alright, Damaskiri?”
She nodded distractedly. Looking around, Helena could not find whoever had been studying her so closely.
“Maybe you should eat something?” he suggested softly.
Surprised, Helena noticed the food piled high in front of her. “How did that get here?”
Darrin chuckled around his own mouthful of food and simply gestured for her to eat.
Sometime during dinner music began to play, but when she searched Helena could not locate any musicians. The center of the tent had been cleared and where tables once stood there was now a massive dance floor in their stead.
As the guest of honor, it was once again up to her to formally open up the evening’s festivities. That was why, once her plate vanished without her notice, Darrin led her to the center of the room.
The music stopped, bringing the chatter to a halt as well, all eyes turning towards her and Darrin. After a few beats of silence, the first strains of a song started.
Helena and Darrin bowed to each other and began the first steps of the formal court dance. Grateful she remembered to pick up the side of her skirt to avoid any mishaps. The steps became faster, she and Darrin twirling around each other in time with the heavy beat of the drum.
Timmins and Joquil had told her this dance was the embodiment of the Mother’s magic, each step representing the interplay of the elements. The solid stomps on the ground depicting Earth, while the gentler motions of the arms acting as Air weaving around them all. The growing speed of the steps, Fire’s greedy inferno.
She had stopped them then, to ask whether the sweat dripping down her back was supposed to represent Water.
The two had laughed, recognizing they had perhaps pushed her too hard in their attempts to ensure her perfection of the dance.
Eyes still shining with mirth, Timmins had informed her that the flow of movements into one another was the representation of Water, while she, in the center of it all, represented Spirit.
Now, as the dance was coming to a close, Helena better appreciated the beauty of its movements. The bodies surrounding them on the dance floor were a blur as she continued to spin and weave around Darrin. Her skin was flushed and her head light as blood rushed through her body; her heart racing as it beat in time to the drum. Breathless laughter bubbled up in sheer joy as the dance came to an end.
There was silence in the room again before the crowd erupted in applause and cheers. Still smiling, Helena wrapped her arms around Darrin for a quick hug before stepping back.
Darrin let out a startled gasp as he looked at the floor below them. Everywhere they had stepped during the dance, was now softly glowing. The entire shape a replica of the necklace Helena was wearing.
“Oh,” she breathed as she noticed what had caused the crowd to react.
Before she could do more than look back to Darrin, a voice was at her ear asking her to dance. Seeing Micha, her smile grew and as she nodded her assent she was lost in the sea of bodies now moving around her.
Panting, Helena stepped off of the floor. She had not stopped since her dance with Darrin over an hour ago. She had to turn down Nameless Suitor Number Four’s offer so that she could catch her breath.
Fanning herself and leaning her hip against a nearby table, Helena smiled as Gillian made her way over.
“I seem to be lacking the equipment,” Gillian gestured towards her groin, “required to spend time with you at this sort of event.”
Helena let out a surprised laugh, “I’m glad you have found a way to persevere despite that handicap.”
Gillian smiled conspiratorially, “So are we to be sisters? Micha is quite taken with you.”
“I’m not certain how such a sweet man can be related to you,” Helena teased with a grin. “Although he is a l
ot of fun to spend time with.”
“You certainly seemed to enjoy your dance together.”
Helena nodded, “Yes, definitely. A partner who doesn’t step all over your feet, or let their hands wander, is much appreciated.”
“But wandering hands is the entire point of dancing,” Gillian said as she bat her wide green eyes innocently. “How else are you supposed to know if you’d like to invite the man to your bed?”
Blushing, Helena could only shake her head in mute amusement.
“Seriously, Helena, the physical chemistry is the most important part of any relationship. That’s a part of the process you know. You have to try out all your options before you know which one is the perfect,” she paused as if savoring the word, “fit.”
“I’m pretty certain that is absolutely not the point of this process,” Helena concluded matter-of-factly.
Gillian simply shrugged and folded her arms across her chest, “Suit yourself, it’s your potential lifetime of cold bed sheets. If I were you, there’s absolutely no way I’d make that mistake! Forever is a long time to be miserable.”
“Damaskiri,” a gravelly voice she instantly recognized said at her shoulder.
Turning to Von, she offered him a warm smile, “Hello again. Are you enjoying the party?”
Frowning slightly, Von eyed the dancers nearest to him, “This is not generally the sort of entertainment I would seek out, but I suppose it has a certain appeal.”
“I bet he lets his hands wander,” Gillian muttered below her breath.
Helena blushed fiercely and spoke before Von could address the comment.
“And what sorts of entertainment do you usually seek out?”
It was Von’s turn to look uncomfortable, “Erm, quiet ones.”
Gillian let out a sharp bark of laughter, “If it’s quiet you’re doing it wrong, Holbrooke, but I get the feeling you already know that.”
“I meant reading, my lady,” Von said dryly.
“Hmmm,” Gillian murmured, clearly not believing him.
“I love to read,” Helena said quickly. “I’ve spent many nights curled up in front of the fire with a book.”
“Mother you are hopeless,” Gillian threw up her hands in exasperation. “Darling, you are the only one in this conversation actually talking about books.”
Confused, Helena looked between the two of them before it registered. Wide eyed she looked back to Von.
His eyes were narrowed in annoyance as he studied Gillian. He turned back to Helena and his expression instantly softened, “Shall we dance, Damaskiri?”
“Yes, that would be wonderful.”
He offered her his hand. She hesitated before finally placing hers in his much larger one, anticipating the bolt of heat that rushed through her at the contact. His hand tightened around hers as he led her to the dance floor.
The music swelled as one song rolled into the next. He wrapped his free arm around her waist, its hand resting warmly against her back as he pulled her closer to him.
As they spun and wove around the other dancers, Helena was only aware of Von’s body pressed close to hers. She felt his muscles bunch and shift against hers. Distracted she missed a step and looked up apologetically.
Ignoring the misstep, Von asked, “Are you enjoying yourself, Damaskiri?”
“Immensely! This is my first ball; I’m pretty overwhelmed by it all. Does it show?” she asked in a rush, excitement making her aqua eyes glow.
“Not at all, Damaskiri,” he responded with an ironic smile that was completely lost on her.
“Don’t you think, given the circumstances, that you should call me Helena?” she asked thoughtfully.
“Under the circumstances, I absolutely do not think I should call you Helena. There are far too many people around for the familiarity to go unnoticed, and the last thing I need is more rumors. Or the attention of your Sword,” he added as if in afterthought.
Hearing her name on his lips, even if not directed at her, lit the fire within her. Without thought, she blurted out, “I look forward to a time when such formalities will not be necessary between us.”
Horrified at her boldness, she stared fixedly at his shoulder. This is not a courtship, Helena. She berated herself. This is politics. Mother’s teeth, she swore, you have ten other suitors! What is he going to think of you, if you keep throwing yourself at him?
“As do I,” he leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Helena.” His lips brushed against her ear softly as his breath caressed her cheek and neck.
She shivered, aqua eyes meeting gray. They stared in growing silence, steps forgotten as they got lost in one another. She jumped when the voice spoke beside them.
“Damaskiri, I believe it is my turn to dance with you,” Kragen cut in.
She offered him a smile, before stepping back from Von, eyes still searching his. Wordlessly, he merely nodded and offered her hand to Kragen.
And while his hand had not wandered, she still felt the blaze of its impression against her back as she watched him walk away.
Chapter Four
Von stared absently at the scene before him. His room was supposed to be comforting as it reflected his home landscape. Unfortunately, it only served to set him on edge. The rocky terrain and mountains were beautiful in an eerie and primal way, but there was no warmth in the vision.
Steel gray eyes shifted from the balcony scene into the interior of the room. On the large four poster bed, the curtains were parted slightly, revealing a sleeping woman. As if feeling his gaze on her, she shifted and stretched.
The sheet fell away from her naked body, long arms stretched above her head pulling her small breasts to attention, the dusky nipples tightening at the subtle change in temperature. Her back arched then, and her eyelids fluttered open.
Von watched the display with disinterest.
“Come back to bed,” the woman purred, trying to use her body to tempt him.
When he didn’t move, she stood from the bed and walked over to him slowly.
She tossed a head of long black hair off her shoulders, to give him a better view, her hands gliding up her body pausing at her breasts to rub and tease her nipples into rosy points before running them down over her hips.
Eyes half closed she bit her lower lip and bent down towards him, hand reaching between his legs.
He grabbed her wrist tightly before she could make contact with the evidence of his disinterest. “Attempt to touch me again, and I will cut it off,” he warned, his voice icy.
She stood quickly in surprise.
“Leave.”
He let go of her hand, and she moved to grab her gown from the floor.
With a final heated look over her shoulder, she moved to open the door and left.
Von let out a slow breath and closed his eyes. Not one to generally feel remorse, he was feeling decidedly guilty for accepting her invitation at the feast. He had been so overwhelmed by the intensity of his reaction to the Damaskiri that he had thought to exorcise her from his system with another willing female.
He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, a frown pulling down his lips. She was more beautiful than he had anticipated. Shining chestnut tendrils had fallen from their place in the intricate braids atop her head and down to her shoulders; and laughing aqua eyes framed with thick black lashes smiled up at him as they danced. Her slender body had fit against his perfectly, warm under his hands.
He felt his body stir in response to the memory.
Unsettled, his frown deepened.
Even more than her beauty, her spirit had surprised him. He remembered her words as the crowd had recognized him and responded with the usual uproar of disapproval.
‘…you will not, in any way harm what is mine.’ Her eyes had darkened to twin navy pools, her voice a scathing warning. He had never had anyone stand up for or defend him. The thought was laughable, he was the first born of Darius Holbrooke, and the Holbrooke line had been cast out years ago after his grandfather’s father ha
d attempted to destroy the Kiri and her Circle.
He had not come to the Festival with the intention of actually claiming, or falling for, the Damaskiri. He had simply hoped to use the time that he was close to her to try to convince her to lift the ban that had been on his family for the last five centuries. His brother needed to see a healer, and none would come to them.
Memories of the broken and twisted limbs and his brother's pained smile as Von had said goodbye, doing much to dampen his ardor.
Even so, when he had looked into her eyes and spoken the words of intent, he felt as though his own soul had been staring back at him. Never had he felt so vulnerable or connected to anyone. He rubbed the back of his neck with a grimace; it was not a feeling he’d necessarily like to repeat.
The guilt and uncertainty unnerved him. He wasn’t certain if the guilt was from forgetting that he was here to help save his family, or if it was from sleeping with a whore after offering himself as a life mate to another.
Scowling he stood and walked towards the balcony, willing the familiar peaks and valleys of Daejara’s mountains to ease his tension. Such emotion was foreign to him. He learned a long time ago to rid himself of anything that would weaken him or distract him from his duty. Over the last seven years, he had gained a reputation as the fiercest and most brutal mercenary in Daejara. He and his band had roamed the realm, accepting any task if the money had been good. They had no scruples; they couldn’t afford them.
Reminding himself of who he was, and of his purpose, Von felt some of his tension ebb. The reminder, however, didn’t keep him from wishing, just for a moment, that he could be the kind of man that would be worthy of such a woman.
She heard the voices as she rounded the corner and moved towards the meeting that had apparently started without her. Alina had insisted that she dress according to her station, even for a meeting with her Circle, even though she would have to change again for this afternoon’s ceremony.
Helena shook her head ruefully, but her smile faded as she heard the men more clearly.
