The party stopped for the night in a clearing far from the road. Even though Sophie wanted to ride nonstop to the capital city, she knew she, the baby she carried, Ariana, and even the rebels, needed rest. The night was cold, but not horribly so. A fire was built, and a tent was quickly and efficiently constructed for Sophie and her family. Another, smaller tent was assembled for Arik. As leader of the rebels he enjoyed comforts the others did not.
Maddox Sulyen was more prisoner than family at the moment, but at least he had not been harmed. Some of the rebels openly detested the former Minister of Defense, a man who had been their enemy until just a few months ago. Others recognized that he would have great influence over the armies he had once commanded. If he could bring just a few of the emperor’s soldiers to Arik’s side, it would make a vast difference in the outcome of the rebellion. Perhaps the difference.
In the comfort of her tent, with only a sleeping Ariana to keep her company, Sophie turned her mind to other matters. Kane would reach thirty years at the end of summer. The Fyne Curse would take him from her before that date, unless she found a way to break it once and for all. She had planned to have Isadora assist her. With their combined powers, surely they could put an end to the curse that had robbed so many Fyne witches of the men they loved.
She didn’t know that she could do it alone, but since she didn’t know when she’d find Isadora, or even if either of her sisters were still alive, she had to try.
Sophie closed her eyes, found the bright light at the center of her being, and began to chant in a whisper. She was not as proficient in the ancient language their mother had taught them, not as Isadora and Juliet were, so she chanted in Columbyanan, asking again and again that the curse of the wizard be lifted, that Fyne women be allowed to find lasting happiness again without being punished for a long- ago unrequited love. She whispered the chant seven times, then opened her eyes and looked upon her sleeping daughter. A hand settled over a rounded stomach.
She wanted the curse destroyed not only for herself and for Kane. Her daughters deserved to have love and happiness one day. They should not be punished for something that had happened so long ago.
She had not broken the curse tonight with her simple chant. It continued to weigh upon her, a tangible and bitter thing that felt heavy on her shoulders and her heart.
Kane lifted the tent flap and walked in, and Sophie knew immediately that something was wrong. His mouth was thinned and his eyes were worried.
“We’re heading east,” he said sharply.
“Away from Arthes? Now?” Sophie glanced at her sleeping daughter. “Maybe we can move Ariana without waking her. She’s exhausted.”
Kane touched Sophie’s cheek and made her look at him. “You’re not going with us.”
“What do you mean—”
“Arik has received word that a band of rebels is in dire need of help. They’re fighting superior forces and are barely holding on.”
“You’re going into battle.”
“Yes.”
Kane had fought before, and he was a gifted warrior. But Sophie sensed that this battle would be different. The rebels would be outnumbered. No, the rebels were almost always outnumbered. But this time Kane would be among them, and she would know, and she would worry...
“And you wish me to stay here?” Alone?
“Six rebels will stay with you, Ariana, and your father. There’s a sympathizer on a small farm a two-day ride from here. In the morning, you’ll be escorted to the farm. You’re to wait there.”
“I am not very good at waiting,” she said softly.
“You are not.” Kane gave her a small, tense smile. “But I need you to wait for me and take care of our babies.”
“I will.” She pressed the palm of her hand to Kane’s chest so that she might hear the beat of his heart for herself. “I do not have need of six escorts. One will suffice.” She wished that one could be her husband, but knew that was impossible. He would not allow others to fight in his place so that he could remain safely with her.
“One would suffice for you and Ariana,” Kane replied, “but your father is another matter.”
No one in this rebel camp yet trusted Maddox Sulyen. He had been an enemy for too long. “You could leave me in his trust. I don’t doubt that he would care for me and Ariana, and you might need those six men you’re leaving behind.”
Kane refused to budge on the subject of her father. “No.”
Sophie nodded gently. If Kane needed to know she was surrounded by armed men in order to keep his mind on the battle to come and his own survival, then she would not argue with him.
A part of her wanted to continue on toward Arthes, even if she had to travel on her own. Her father would help her find her sisters, even if it meant going back into a palace where his life was worth nothing. She knew that.
She also knew that she and Kane needed to do this together.
Her husband kissed her before leaving the tent. Sophie did not walk into the night to watch him ride away. He did not need the distraction of her tears, and she did not particularly want to watch him, armed and ready for battle, ride off to face the dangers he had lived with for so long before they’d met.
As the rebels rode away from the camp, their horses’ hooves pounding on the hard-packed ground, Sophie dropped to her knees and began to chant again. This time she asked seven times for the rebels to be protected. And then with tears in her eyes, she prayed for her husband to come back to her, unharmed.
After a long night of riding hard. Bors entered the castle with a new and burning anger in his heart. He had left Arthes with ten able soldiers, and he was returning with two. Two! He had found his way into the mountains, for all the good it had done him. Two men had slipped and fallen to their deaths on one particularly icy day. Another had either run away or gotten lost during the night.
The other five had been viciously killed by a huge mountain lion that had long, wicked claws and hungry teeth. Bors himself had barely escaped death.
It was unlikely that the witch the emperor wanted was still alive, and if she were... would she be worth saving? If she lived, she had been in the company of that monster for well more than a month now. She’d be worthless.
No man told Emperor Sebestyen that the task he required could not be accomplished. But Bors knew if he told the emperor that he had not found Juliet Fyne, he’d be sent out again, with more soldiers this time. And what of the reward he had worked so hard to earn? So he stood before the emperor in the ballroom, morning sun shining in, and told a lie.
“She’s dead,” Bors said simply. “The beast who took the redheaded witch tore her to pieces, most likely on the same day she was taken.”
“Did you bring me proof? A head, perhaps? A bloody gown? Anything at all?”
“My lord, we did find remains, but they were much too indelicate to present in such a fine palace, and they, uh, they smelled mightily.”
The Emperor Sebestyen was in a particularly foul mood today. The empress was not present, as she had been on Bors’ last visit to this room, but a sour-looking priest stood close by, stoic and wordless.
“You lost eight of my men looking for a dead woman?” the emperor asked.
“There was a mountain lion, my lord, a very large—”
“Did I ask for an excuse?” The emperor stood slowly. “It was a mistake on my part to trust such a delicate task to you. Fetching two women. How hard could it be?”
“My lord—”
“Do not speak.” Emperor Sebestyen stepped down from the dais. Judging by the expression on his face, there would be no reward for getting one of the witches here, no appointment to sheriff, no high position in the palace itself. “You picked a very bad time to disappoint me.”
“I should like the pleasure of telling the other one that her sister is dead,” Bors said.
“Would you?’
“Yes. She’s trouble, that one. I hope you have her locked away in a safe place so she can’t harm anyon
e else.”
“Are you offering me advice?” The emperor continued to walk lazily toward Bors.
“I have seen the witch’s dangerous side, my lord. I want only what’s best for Columbyana. And for you, of course.”
“Then perhaps you should have kept the other one alive.” He had never before noticed how tall Emperor Sebestyen was, but standing almost nose to nose, Bors definitely took notice. The emperor was tall and slender, and those eyes were so cold...
Bors didn’t realize he was in danger until he felt the sharp blade slip into his belly.
“You incompetent oaf,” the emperor whispered. “You are not worth the expense of a vial of Panwyr, or the food I’d feel obligated to feed you if you were locked in a cell on Level Twelve.”
“But...but...” Bors looked down at his belly. The knife the emperor wielded remained buried there, and blood stained the front of his shirt. His wife had made this shirt. He hadn’t seen her in more than a year, hadn’t even thought of her for months.
Emperor Sebestyen twisted the blade gently, and Bors screamed as newer, sharper pain sliced through him. He would’ve fallen to the floor, but the emperor held him up. He was strong, that one, stronger than he appeared to be.
Bors knew he was going to bleed to death, slowly and painfully. There was nothing worse than a wound to the gut. He knew, because he’d delivered more than his share. The emperor leaned in slightly. “I can’t abide incompetence,” he said softly. “You not only failed me, you did it badly.” He twisted the blade once again, harder this time, and again Bors screamed. He screamed and he pleaded. Not for life, it was too late for that. He pleaded for death to come quickly.
The emperor withdrew the knife and let Bors fall to the floor. He leaned down and wiped the blade on a clean portion of the shirt Bors’ wife had made for him. Then he turned away. To one soldier, he said, “Dispose of this garbage accordingly.” The ashen young soldier nodded once, and the emperor turned his attention to the priest on the dais.
“Father Breccian,” the emperor said cordially, the crying man on the floor dismissed from his mind. “I’m going to have a glass of wine while this unpleasant business is completed. Would you care to join me?”
It had been a week since Juliet and Ryn had become husband and wife in every way, and still she was not tired of the way they came together. In the past three days she had been learning about her responsibilities as Queen and learning about the Anwyn people and their ways. She met with her advisors, with priestesses and heads of various clans and the old Queen’s sons. She had expected there might be animosity among the princes, since her position would naturally rob them of some of their power. But she felt no anger or resentment from them. They all knew how much moving on meant to their mother, and instead of longing for power, they were relieved to have the new Queen in place.
They wanted what she and Ryn had wanted. A simple home, responsibilities to one’s own family...something beautiful and ordinary. She hadn’t yet told them that she planned to find a new and peaceful way for the Anwyn to be ruled. She hadn’t given up on that simple life she and Ryn both craved.
She had asked all of Queen Etaina’s sons to stay on to advise her, if they so wished, as her own sons would not be in a position to accept their responsibilities for many, many years.
It was not difficult to rule in a place where there was no conflict other than the occasional battles that took place with the Caradon beyond The City walls. There were disagreements among the clans, but they were trivial. Insignificant differences she was easily able to resolve.
Many of her duties were social in nature. She entertained the heads of clans over fine meals and beautiful music, and made plans for the holidays that would be celebrated in the months to come. There were many holidays among the Anwyn, festivals that celebrated the moon, the gods and goddesses of the Anwyn, and previous Queens who had served well. Now that Queen Etaina was gone, there would be a new holiday to celebrate her lengthy reign, as there would soon be a celebration to welcome Juliet to her throne.
She had endured a long day of meetings and planning for the festival that would take place before the next full moon. There would be dancing and singing in the palace and in the streets, costumes and games, a soiree that would be held in the grand ballroom.
For someone who had lived her life before coming to The City in a simple cabin with little contact with the outside world, it was quite a change.
Juliet paced in her outer chamber, anxiously waiting for Ryn to arrive. For the past three days she had seen to business during the daylight hours, but saved her nights for him. This heat he had explained, it consumed her. She could think of nothing but the moment when Ryn would hold her again. She no longer suffered from the frenzied need of those first four days, when they had not left her chambers, but by the time he came to her at night, she was almost frantic for his touch.
She had never thought herself to be a sensual woman. Until she’d met Ryn, she’d planned to live her life chaste and alone. Now, all she had to do was think of him and it was as if she could actually feel him pushing against and inside her.
The door opened, Ryn walked in, and Juliet rushed to meet him. Grabbing the front of his shirt, she pulled him to her for a kiss. Her lips parted; her tongue danced. If she could, she would consume him, and he felt the same way about her.
I want you.
He responded to her silent communication by flicking the strap of her gold gown aside and pushing the garment down so that her breasts were freed. He caressed one breast with a large, sun-kissed hand. You are soft and beautiful.
You are hard and beautiful.
They kissed, and undressed one another as they touched and aroused and even laughed.
“I think of you all day,” Juliet said aloud as they walked toward the bedchamber, more undressed than dressed. Her heart beat too quickly, and deep inside she felt the gentle clenching and heat that demanded Ryn.
“And I think of you,” he responded. He raked his fingers along the swell of her breasts, teasing the sensitive nipples and watching the way they peaked. Her insides quivered and clenched, and she was tempted to command that he take her here, now, with no more preparation and no more touching.
But she didn’t want to command Ryn, and in truth she didn’t want this to be over too quickly. She laid the palm of her hand against his flat belly, felt his own deep quiver. That palm skimmed lower and she studied his length with curious fingers that were quickly becoming talented in the ways of arousal.
She had been so afraid of taking a man inside her in all ways, and now that she had...she had never known anything more wonderful. Ryn was with her always, and instead of being frightened, she felt as if she’d needed this attachment all her life.
Still, she did not know every thought that passed through his head, every feeling he experienced. At some moments she wanted everything from him. At others, she was more than satisfied to be allowed the glimpses of his spirit throughout the day. Even if she didn’t know his every thought, physically their union was perfection. He said her body was driven by the need to reproduce. Was the same true of him? Was his response to her purely biological?
He tweaked one nipple and she almost came out of her skin.
“I didn’t know this heat you told me about would last for such a long time,” Juliet said as they continued to ease toward the bed.
Ryn stopped, lifted his head to look down at her, and smiled. “Juliet, you have been out of heat for three days.”
She blinked quickly, and then smiled back. “Then this urgency that I feel for you...”
“It is nothing more than a woman’s call for her mate,” he said, lifting her easily off her feet and dropping her on the bed, before finishing the job of undressing himself.
She had been so certain that this intense need was a product of her Anwyn blood and the moon and the awakening of her fertility. As Ryn joined her on the bed and took her into his arms, Juliet closed her eyes and opened herself not only to
him but to everything around her. The mountain, the people who lived on it...even herself.
Her heart beat differently here; her very soul was brighter. She missed her sisters, she missed the cabin she had always called home, but she belonged here. She belonged with this man, for as long as she was allowed to have him. Three years or thirty or a hundred.
“Ryn,” she whispered, drawing slightly away from him but keeping her hands on his body. She did not want to be without that sensation of touch, not now, not ever. “There’s something I need to ask you."
His eyebrows arched slightly. Normally there was very little talk after they fell into bed.
“I know that when we came here, you were disturbed by the idea that you would not have the life you’d always planned for us.”
“Juliet, don’t...”
“And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I would love to live in the house you built for me, and fill it with sons, and be there waiting for you when you came home at night.”
“What is to be is,” he said stoically.
She kissed him, for strength. Her own and his. “I want things to be different and I will find a way. But until that time comes, you will not be the Queen’s consort. You will not be relegated to an insignificant position and come when I call as if your only reason for being here is to warm my bed and satisfy the needs of my body and make babies.”
“It is not my place to change the way filings are done.”
“No, it’s not,” she said. “It’s my place.” She took his face in her hands and looked him in the eye. “Marry me, vanir. Be my King. Stand by my side, run with me when the wolf calls, and help me raise our children.” She pressed her bare stomach to his. “The first of those babies is growing now, I think.”
He laid the palm of one hand against her side, and his fingers slipped between their bodies to touch her soft belly.
She suffered a moment of indecision. Ryn had not yet said yes to her proposal. Perhaps he cared only for the pleasure he found in her body. Perhaps he did not want to change the way things were done among the Anwyn. Seeing into him was very much like seeing her own life. Some things were clear. Others were maddeningly indistinct. She could not see into his heart now, even though he did not try to hide from her.
The Moon Witch Page 29
