If ever she needed the comfort of her grandfather, it was now. She snuggled under her blankets, cupping the orb in her hand. Brandt’s image flared inside the glass. Taryn’s chest compressed with a silent sob, and she kissed the ball, whispering, “I love you, Baba.”
On impulse, she asked it to show her who had entered her rooms the previous day. The glass flared to life and several images of Cora and Ellie zipped past, along with a few other maids Taryn didn’t recognize. They prepared her rooms and unpacked her belongings. Nothing nefarious. She asked to see anyone other than her maids.
The ball sparked once, and then showed Marissa creeping about the apartment before going to Taryn’s dressing room. She methodically went through Taryn’s armoires until she found the cloak where Taryn had hidden the seal. A cold sweat broke out on Taryn’s forehead. No one else had been present when she’d placed the seal in the cloak pocket.
In the glass, Marissa pawed through Taryn’s personal belongings. When she found the hiding place of her sword and crown, Marissa felt along the wall, trying to unhinge the cupboard door. Taryn hoped Marissa would use her ShantiMari and get a nasty shock, but to Taryn’s disappointment, she didn’t. Marissa fumbled with a curtain near the glass doors that led to the balcony. After a few moments, she left the room.
Taryn was about to put the looking glass down when the ball flickered to life again.
A figure stepped out from behind the curtain. Taryn stared in disbelief at the image of Zakael standing beside her bed, watching while she slept. He’d been inches from her. A chill swept over her clammy skin as she watched Zakael bend low to whisper in her ear.
His words drifted on the breeze. “Come to me, my Taryn. We are meant to be united. In power, in life, in all things.”
With an intimacy they didn’t share, he stroked her face with his fingertips. His lips rested on hers.
She shook with suppressed anger at his impertinence. That he’d treated her with such familiarity, and while she slept, enraged her. ShantiMari burned in her belly like an out-of-control wildfire, igniting crazed thoughts that involved causing Zakael a great deal of pain. She scrubbed her lips with the blanket, ridding herself of his touch.
Like Marissa before him, Zakael felt around the secret compartment. Unlike Marissa, he tried to use his power to open it. He jerked back, his fingers ablaze in a fury of blue and orange flames. When the fire subsided, the ink she’d woven into the ward stained Zakael’s fingers.
Swearing under his breath, Zakael cast a look of contempt in her direction and then left by the secret doorway. A few moments later, Taryn awoke. She’d missed him by mere seconds.
Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. Even snug in her covers, she was vulnerable and exposed. She ached inside as if she’d been physically violated. Her fury escalated and sparks snapped at the ends of her tangled hair, snaking their way down her arms. She jumped from the bed, patting out the fire. When the flames wouldn’t cease, she poured water over her arms, but the blaze remained.
There was no burning of her skin, no singeing of hair—only an uncomfortable heat. She held her arms out in front of her. “Ice.” Immediately, the flames turned to chilly crystals. “Fire.” Flames danced along her arms. “Ice.” Again, crystals.
Sunlight streaked the balcony and movement in the palace signified the start of the day. There wasn’t much time before her maids would arrive. She went outside and shook her arms over the balcony, clearing her skin of the frozen water. She’d play with her new discovery later; for the moment, she had to secure her rooms. First, she went to look for the seal in the pocket of the cloak Marissa had searched. Relief flooded through her when her fingers touched the soft pouch. After she locked it in the cupboard with the sword and crown, she moved quickly, placing wards over doorways and walls.
If Marissa thought she could enter her rooms anytime she pleased, Taryn would make certain to change her mind. On the secret doorway that Zakael had used, Taryn infused her wards with the vilest suggestions she could think of. She couldn’t bring herself to inflict violence, but the results would have a lasting effect. Boils and weeping pustules were only the start of what the visitor could expect. Later, she would set physical traps in the hidden corridor.
Fresh anger boiled inside her. She had to get away, from her rooms, from her thoughts. She had to do something. She dressed quickly and headed to the barracks with Ohlin’s sword. A sleepy soldier informed her Sir Baehlon wasn’t in his room. Undeterred, she continued to the training yard without him. A few soldiers meandered about, but each one she asked declined to practice with her.
She attacked the stuffed sacks with an anger she fought to control. On a particularly vicious attack, her sword swung wide, meeting another blade with a jarring clang. Taryn staggered back, holding her hands over her ears. Rhoane, too, stumbled a few paces before righting himself and approaching with caution.
“What was that horrid sound?” Taryn asked.
“Godsteel. Our swords are both made of it and do not like to be struck in anger.” He held his sword loosely in his hand, but Taryn saw his jaw tighten in anticipation. “What has you so vexed this morning?”
Not wanting to tell him about Zakael in a public place, she indicated the thirty or so men and women who had gathered around the ring. “Seems a tiara frightens them. No one will train with me, and Baehlon is nowhere to be found.”
A smile tugged at Rhoane’s lips. “I will train with Her Highness.” His sword gleamed in the sunlight. “But I will not go easy on you.”
Ohlin’s sword sang in her mind, and she took a step back, focusing herself. “Then I will return the compliment.”
Rhoane flourished his sword before swinging his leg out in a formal bow. Then he raised the weapon in front of his face. “I would expect no less.”
Before she could reply, he was at her, striking from the left and then right in rapid succession. A well-placed jab narrowly missed her ribs. She moved on instinct, defending against Rhoane’s blows with parrying shots of her own. The crowd cheered, whether for her or Rhoane, she wasn’t sure. Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered except keeping away from his deadly strikes.
As promised, he showed no mercy. Sweat dripped from her brow, blurring her vision. Rhoane looked fresh, without a trace of exertion or fatigue marring his features. Taryn’s confidence faltered.
A nick of Rhoane’s sword snapped her focus back to him. Blood seeped through her tunic, but Taryn kept her feet moving, dodging and then striking. Her paltry few weeks of training were nothing compared to his skill. Yet she fought as if they were of equal talent.
Rhoane crouched low, circling Taryn, his arm out to the side, leaving his body open to attack. Taryn moved opposite him, her sword held low before her. She was about to lunge when a voice called out, “Enough!”
Startled, Taryn and Rhoane paused in their advances, both heated by the combat. Empress Lliandra strode to the center of the ring, her slippers causing a rush of dust in the air. “What in Ohlin’s name do you two think you’re doing?”
Rhoane made a show of bowing to the empress. “Your Majesty. You look lovely this morning.”
“Don’t you dare try to flatter me, Prince Rhoane.” Then, seeing the stain on Taryn’s sleeve, she said, “You drew blood on a princess of the realm? I could have you flogged. Or worse.”
To his credit, Rhoane didn’t flinch. “You could. However, if Taryn is to lead an army someday, she must be ready. Coddling will do her no good on the battlefield, where her enemies will show her little mercy.”
Taryn stared at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not leading any army.”
Lliandra held up her hand for silence. “If it comes to that, you will do as needed. Know this, Prince Rhoane of the Eleri, should your blade ever mar my daughter again, I will not be so forgiving. Is this understood?”
Rhoane’s jaw hardened. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
Lliandra fixed Taryn with a cold stare. “As for you, Princess Taryn, you may continue training.
I will have my soldiers available to you for your hand-to-hand fighting. However, I want you to train only with the sword masters. You are lucky you didn’t harm Prince Rhoane. I wouldn’t want to have to tell his father that bit of good news.”
Taryn inclined her head. “Thank you, Your Majesty. The other princesses…they’ve expressed a desire to train. If you would consider it, I would be most grateful.”
Lliandra’s mouth tightened to a thin stain. “You are bold, young Taryn. I hope you are not also foolish. I will take your request into consideration.” She left them without another word, sweeping through the crowd in a swirl of rose and lavender chiffon.
To Taryn’s surprise, Rhoane was smiling. “Baehlon has taught you well. I thought I might be bested by you today.” He inspected the cut on her upper arm. “I was careless.”
“It’s not your fault. I was too slow.” His Shanti wrapped around her like a warm blanket in the dead of winter. It caressed and soothed her, mending the wound he’d inflicted.
They left the training grounds amid excited babbling from the soldiers. After hearing the empress, they were more than willing to continue working with her. Rhoane led her away from the barracks toward the gardens, all the while talking about their sword fight and the ways she could improve. When they reached the orchards, Rhoane took Taryn’s hand.
Their runes glowed briefly, and Taryn asked, “What did Ohlin mean when he said that when I’m ready, he’ll add his blessing to our bonds?”
Rhoane cleared his throat. “Strictly speaking, we are fully bonded, but to make them immutable, we need Ohlin’s and Verdaine’s blessings added to these. As it is now, we are bonded by the Light only, and if we are not careful, they can unravel.”
“Nadra said they’re permanent.”
Rhoane kissed her fingertips. “They are, but when they were placed on us, you were unaware of the true meaning of the bonding. Therefore, they are not as strong as they could be.”
“I see.” She looked away, embarrassed by her lack of understanding of so many things a woman her age should know. “I don’t have a lot of experience with this.” She glanced up at him, searching for reassurance in his eyes. “With relationships, I mean. None, actually.”
The little half-smile that made her pulse zigzag tugged at his lips. “Neither have I.”
“But you’re so old. Surely you’ve had women before?” The words were out before she could pull them back. “Oh God, I’m sorry.”
His laugh surprised her. “For an Eleri, I am not that old. Besides, I have known since birth that my destiny was with you.”
“What if you didn’t like me once you met me?”
Rhoane stepped closer, brushing her hair back with his long fingers. “I loved you the moment I first saw you in the cavern. Before that, I loved the possibility of you. Now that you are here before me, I love the reality of you.” He covered her mouth with his.
For the space of a heartbeat, she faltered, frightened but also thrilled by the heat coursing through her. His clean, forest scent filled her nostrils, overwhelmed her senses. His strong arms held her close. Everything about him was comforting, as if the world could stop and as long as she had him, there would be life.
Rhoane pulled back, his eyes fogged with desire, questioning. She crushed him to her, not wanting to ever let go. They clung to each other beneath trees heavy with fruit. The smell of sargots warmed by the summer sun intoxicated her, adding to the deliciousness of the moment. Ideas that made her blush skittered through her mind as her hands roamed over his body. She wanted to feel every inch of him, to know him in ways only she could, but she hesitated. When they finally parted, Taryn could hardly grasp a single thought. Rhoane moved behind her to kiss her neck.
“You’re sure you’ve never done this before?” Taryn asked in a voice steeped with a slurred huskiness she didn’t recognize.
“Quite sure.” He nuzzled her neck, and she swayed against him. “But I have often thought of doing exactly this with you. Only you.”
Her ShantiMari rose, and she surrounded him with it, enveloping them in a cocoon. If only she could take them far from the palace and everything that might threaten their happiness. A surge of her power threatened to overtake her. Rhoane’s body shook and his ShantiMari enclosed hers, subduing the force.
“We should stop,” she forced herself to say. “I’m afraid of what might happen if we don’t.”
His arms circled her, pulling her close. When he spoke, his voice sounded much like hers, deep and full of unspent emotion. “As you wish, Darennsai.”
Raw desire edged his words. All she wanted was to pull him down beside her and lie on the grass, letting his fingers trail over her body, finding ways to excite him as much as he excited her. Her heart no longer beat in her chest but settled between her legs and pulsed with a terrifying urgency. She turned back to face Rhoane, and all thought vanished. She lost herself in the mossy depths of his eyes.
Electric current ripped through her as their lips met again, this time with a heated fervor she embraced. Her nails scratched up his scalp, her fingers tugged at his curls. His tongue scraped along her teeth, and she savored the feel of him, the taste of him.
Him.
A tempest of power swarmed around them, drowning out sound and light.
Rhoane ended the kiss with airy touches of his lips to hers, lingering a moment before kissing the tip of her nose and then her eyelids. A fine misting of sweat dotted his forehead, and his breath came in shallow pulls. His ShantiMari cloaked hers, soothing, calming, protective.
Concern. Apprehension. Rhoane’s worry slid over her.
The torment within terrified her almost as much as it excited her. She swallowed down the urge to release her power, to consume them in a vortex of ShantiMari. Rhoane shook as he stroked the sides of her arms, whispering to her in Eleri until her shuddering subsided, the tempest dissipated, and the light shone bright around them.
She could have killed them.
The thought crowded her mind. If she didn’t learn to control her power, she would hurt Rhoane. Or someone else close to her.
“I, uh…” She faltered, unsure what to say. “I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry.”
Rhoane tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His runes flared in the sun’s rays. “I, for one, am not sorry for anything.” He flexed his hand a few times. “Look what you have done. And they were just starting to settle down.” His lips met hers in a tender kiss.
Except she saw beyond the casual tone of his words. The anxiety he tried to hide was clear in his eyes. She’d frightened him. Of that she was certain.
He took her hand, and they walked beneath the sargot trees to the seawall. She kept her power in check, but in the depths of her consciousness, the darkness lurked.
Waiting.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The sun beat down on them, warming the sand beneath their damp bodies. Taryn stretched along the rough blanket they’d brought and blinked against the day’s brightness. After the orchard, Rhoane had taken Taryn to her rooms, where Sabina had been waiting with the younger princesses and the promise of an afternoon lazing on the beach.
She plucked at the damp fabric of her swimming frock, making a mental note to have Tarro design something more fitting for the ocean. Having yards of fabric billowing against the tide wasn’t ideal. Nor was the wool blanket that scratched her exposed limbs.
“Stop fidgeting,” Sabina scolded, a hand over her eyes to block the sun. “Why are you restless?”
Oh, I don’t know. I can’t control my ShantiMari and almost killed my boyfriend this morning. My parents are power hungry freaks. My sister is plotting against me. Pick one.
“I’m not. It’s just…these clothes are awful. How can you be expected to swim in something like this? It’s torture. I’m surprised more people don’t drown.”
“In the Summerlands, we wear our small clothes to swim. Or we go naked. We don’t have the same prejudices as they do on the mainland.”
“It sounds like you Summerlands people know how to have a good time.”
Sabina rolled to her side, her face suddenly serious. “Can I confide something in you?” She glanced to where Tessa and Eliahnna strolled along the shore, looking for seashells. “Whatever we say here must stay between the two of us.”
“Absolutely. You have my word.”
A ripple of relief washed over Sabina’s features. “As you know, I have no loyalty to Marissa but must pretend otherwise. She is heir to the Light Throne. Once she is crowned, she will be the most important person on Aelinae. Even those in the West know that the true power in all the seven kingdoms resides in Talaith. That is why Valterys is anxious to have you side with him.”
“I’m not siding with anyone.”
Sabina gave a short chuckle. “Everyone has to take a side eventually and your father would love nothing more than to have you live at Caer Idris with him. All the other kingdoms would have to bow and scrape before him because he sired the great Eirielle, and look, she sits at his side, blah, blah, blah. But never mind that for now.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Marissa is determined to marry me to Lord Aomori. I have no wish to marry him, and I’m sure he would prefer another life partner.” Sabina’s tone held a hint of amusement.
“You mean Tinsley?”
Sabina smiled, her pearlescent teeth bright against her dark skin. Her two front teeth had the slightest bend to them, giving her a charmingly crooked smile. “Ah, yes. Because of him. I, of course, have other reasons,” she added with a hint of mystery.
“Hayden?”
Sabina’s cheeks blossomed the color of cherry trees in springtime. Her shyness regarding the marquis delighted Taryn. “What can I do to help?”
A shadow fell over Sabina’s supine form, and the girls looked up to see Marissa standing a few paces away, Lady Celia by her side. Lords Tinsley and Aomori spoke with animated gestures a pace behind them. Hayden was nowhere in sight.
The Stones of Resurrection Page 25
