Born of Stone

by Missy Jane

  Nel spun in his heel to return to Phaidra, noting the way her shoulders were hunched and her hands were balled into fists. She was obviously upset but he wasn’t sure what about. Was she angry about the House of Iva being dispersed? If so, was her anger directed at him? Finally, he could take it no longer and went down on his knees before her.

  “Phaidra? My pretty one, please tell me what concerns you. I’m sorry about your House. If I had known you wished it, I would have begged for leniency.”

  When she lifted her head true surprise showed on her face. The moisture in her eyes worried him but he tried to ignore it and ran his hands up her thighs to her waist.

  “I would never have asked you to do that,” she said. “Iva and Kalypso deserve their punishment.”

  His brow wrinkled as he tried to think of what else could be bothering her. “Then what is it? Why are you so sad? Did something happen in my absence?”

  She started to shake her head but then simply shrugged and looked at her hands. “I just don’t know what I’m doing here, Nel. I know you wished me in your bed when we first arrived, but now that you’re done with me, I don’t know what to do.”

  Shock held his tongue for nearly a minute before he growled low in his throat. The sound had her head jerking up and her eyes widening.

  “Done with you? Is that what you think?”

  He pulled her into his arms even while he took gargoyle form. Then he shot into the sky. It was early evening and the sky was clear. He held her close and flew away from the castle and into the village. She had thrown her arms around his neck as soon as her feet left the ground but she kept her face turned away from him. He had no idea what thoughts went through her head.

  It took no time to reach his destination. The yard before the small church was empty but he knew the priest was inside. He set Phaidra on her feet and turned her by the shoulders to precede him into the building. She went without a word of protest and he hoped that was a good sign. He was almost too angry to speak. He was angry at Phaidra for not trusting him, angry at her former Housemates for making her feel so worthless and most of all angry at himself for not showing her what she meant to him. Tonight that would change.

  He took his human form for their walk down the short aisle between the crude wooden pews. The priest was on his knees before the altar, speaking prayers in a lowered voice. As if he sensed their presence, he finished quickly and stood to face them. His brows went up at the sight but he simply nodded.

  “Master Nel, good evening.”

  “Good evening, Father. I have a favor to ask if you’re not too busy at the moment.”

  The old priest waved one hand to swat away Nel’s concern. “Not at all. Certainly not for you. How can I be of service?”

  Nel stepped up beside Phaidra, who looked confused. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and closed the distance to the altar. If this didn’t work he had no idea what would.

  “Are you familiar with the Kevan handfasting ceremony?”

  Phaidra startled against him and he felt her stare but she didn’t try to pull away. The priest smiled and gave a slow nod.

  “Aye, that I am. As the only spiritual leader for many leagues I’m well versed in most wedding ceremonies from the various cultures of Lenara. Do you have a ribbon?”

  “Yes.”

  Nel glanced at Phaidra before dropping his arm from her shoulders and opening his coat to remove the scarf he’d been given in Keva. Phaidra gasped when he unfurled the colorful silk that had once belonged to her mother.

  “Where…who…” she whispered.

  He finally turned to face her. “One of the Council members gave this to me when I questioned them about you. She said it was your mother’s.”

  “Yes. I remember it from when I was a girl but thought her things had been lost.”

  He shook his head and fought down his anger. “No. Not lost, taken. For some reason no one could explain to my satisfaction, your mother’s things were given to another House when you were taken in by Iva. I was told this was the only item that could be located on such short notice.”

  She nodded and ran her hands over the scarf he held as if it were a sacred treasure. Tears slipped down her face but she ignored them and returned her gaze to his.

  “Is this truly what you want, Master Nel? You truly want…me?”

  He tightened his grip on the scarf and went down on one knee. It was well known the Masters bowed to no one but the king. However, where Nel only lowered his head in the king’s presence, he would gladly lower his entire body to the dirt-covered floor for Phaidra.

  “I have never wanted anything more. Phaidra of Keva, would you be my bride? With this scarf of your mother’s lineage I would wed you before this witness, to be my wife for at least one year. If after that time you wish to leave me, I will let you go, but not one second before that time.”

  Phaidra looked down at the man she never thought she would be able to keep and her heart filled to bursting. He really wanted her. It was a marvel and a miracle. She couldn’t possibly deny him. He had said the right words, as if someone from her home had taught him the ceremonial phrase. Now all she had to do was say it back.

  She knelt also and faced him, taking his hands into hers and raising them up between them. “Master Nel of Halstrid, with this scarf of my mother’s lineage I will be your wife. I will wed you for one year and forevermore if you still want me after that time.”

  His face broke into a radiant smile and a suspicious sheen covered his eyes. The priest stepped forward and took the ends of the scarf, wrapping them around their joined hands.

  “Then I do bear witness to this handfasting, and declare you to be man and wife for one year of time.”

  A weight lifted from Phaidra’s shoulders and she laughed with the joy erupting from her soul. Nel joined her before pulling her into a deep kiss. Finally, the priest had to clear his throat to gain their attention. Her face heated in a blush, but Nel simply grinned.

  “Thank you, Father, I appreciate this more than you could know. In one year we will return to renew our vows.”

  The priest nodded and Nel stood and pulled her up by their clasped hands. Then he gently pried them apart and folded the scarf before handing it to her.

  “Hold this, my love, and we’ll put it somewhere safe once we’re home.”

  She took it without hesitation before preceding him from the small church.

  Nel wanted to shout from the top of the tower that Phaidra was now his wife, but he kept it to himself while they returned to the castle. She was quiet when he led her to his room and lifted her to sit on the side of his bed. He lit a fire and locked his door then returned to her. She watched him but still said nothing, just held her mother’s scarf.

  “Can I put that away for you?” he asked. “I have a chest that sits empty now.”

  She nodded and allowed him to take it. He put it away quickly and went back to the bed.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “No.”

  “Tired?”

  “No.”

  “Angry? Bored? Annoyed? What still ails you, Phaidra?”

  She took a deep breath and he braced for a physical blow. Though he knew she wouldn’t try to hit him he almost wished she would. Some kind of reaction would give him a hint of her mood and where to go from here.

  “Do you love me?” she asked.

  He froze, but more from the fact that instant denial was not on his tongue. When he didn’t respond right away she obviously took it to mean no. She slipped off the bed and ran to the door. He caught her before she could turn the lock.

  “No, don’t leave. Look at me, Phaidra. Please.”

  He turned her around and held her against the door. Tears streamed from her eyes but she made no move to wipe them away. He cupped her face with both palms and looked into her eyes.

  “Yes, my pretty one, I do love you. In all honesty, I never expected to say that to any woman so I’m not really sure what to do. But if you leave me no
w I will follow. I’d be helpless to anything else.”

  The surprise on her face annoyed him but he fought not to let it show.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I wouldn’t have you as my wife otherwise. I love you.”

  Her smile was slow in coming but well worth the wait. Then she stood on the tips of her toes and pressed her lips to his. He growled low in his throat and pulled her into his arms. After a couple of minutes, she finally eased back to gasp in much-needed air.

  “I…love…you…too.”

  He grinned and returned to his bed. Then he set her on it and started removing her clothes. “Good. I didn’t want to contemplate trying to live without you.”

  She sighed and it was a happy sound. His heart lightened to hear it.

  “I love you so much, Nel. But being away from you for days at a time is torture.”

  She was naked before him, reclining on his bed, so it took a moment for her words to make sense.

  “Hmm? Oh… I agree. It’s torture for me also. But there will be times I’m called away to do my duty.”

  “I know and I understand that. But what am I supposed to do here in your absence?”

  He stopped in the act of removing his shirt and frowned at her. “What?”

  She rolled her eyes and sat up, covering her perfect breasts with one arm. His frown deepened and he finished taking off his shirt before unlacing his pants.

  “While you’re off protecting the kingdom, I have nothing to do besides sleep, eat and pretend to help Astrid in the library. She certainly doesn’t need my help, even with Ourania in her arms. So, what am I supposed to do besides laze around and grow fat?”

  He couldn’t help but laugh, but a glance at her face sobered his amusement quickly. “Forgive me. I don’t make light of your concerns, I swear.”

  “Then what do you suggest? I know I can’t go with you.”

  He sighed and dropped his pants to the floor before stepping out of them. For once, the sight of his nakedness seemed to have no effect on her at all.

  “No, you can’t go with me. I don’t want you acting the servant either while I’m away.”

  Rather than go to the bed as he dearly wanted, he turned away to pace across the room. If he got too close to her he wouldn’t be able to think.

  “What skills do you have?” he asked.

  She seemed to think it over for a few minutes. “Well, I can cook and clean. I can read and write. I’m not a very good teacher though. I can work with numbers fairly well.”

  He spun on his heels to face her. “Truly? Do you know how to keep an accounting of money?”

  She shrugged and finally dropped her arm. “I’ve never tried with money but if it’s working with numbers, I should be able to do it.”

  He nodded and closed the distance, happy to know he might have found a solution to what concerned her.

  “Good enough. In the morning, we’ll speak to Petros and he may have work for you. But for now…”

  He joined her on the bed and covered her body with his. She opened her arms and legs to him without hesitation and eased his mind.

  “For now you should make love to me, and perhaps our own babe will come in time.”

  He couldn’t wait another second and took her lips in a searing kiss. She returned his passion and welcomed him into her body.

  “I love you so much, my pretty one.”

  “And I love you.”

  He made love to her until a servant knocked on the door to call them to dinner.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Bastien faced his former student and shook his head in disappointment. Albain had had such potential. He had been a rising star, the youngest to be inducted into the Twenty in its long history. Now he was a broken man, stripped of his powers and left to make what life he could as a mortal human.

  “Kill me,” Albain whispered.

  He was hunched over, sitting on his legs and facing the floor. His hair hung in greasy ropes, clotted with sweat and dirt from the tiny cell he’d spent the past three weeks in. It hurt to see him so broken, but there was no other way.

  “You know I will not,” Bastien said.

  Albain finally raised his head and scowled at his former mentor. “Why not? I am worthless now. I can do no magic. I can’t even light a candle.”

  “There are many men who live without magic in their lives, Albain. You will learn to live as they do.”

  “And for what purpose? To farm? To raise sheep? Bah! That life is not for me.”

  Bastien sighed and dropped the bundle in his arms onto the floor between them. “New clothes and shoes. You will be given provisions and a little money to make your way where you will. But I warn you, eyes will be ever watchful of your actions.”

  Albain snorted but made no move to take the clothes. He hadn’t been beaten or starved. But the full force of nineteen wizards stripping every ounce of magic from his core had aged him another decade. He no longer looked like a mortal man of fifty winters, but one of sixty or more. Either way, it was a deception when his true age was nearly two hundred. And now he would begin to age like a mortal man rather than retaining the near immortality of wizards. The king had decreed this to be a just punishment since they shouldn’t have to worry about him after two or three more decades. However, Albain had always been unnaturally smart and eerily resourceful. Bastien had his doubts.

  The wizard turned on his heel and left the cell, leaving the door wide open. Albain was no longer a prisoner. He had told them little, but more had been learned from the Kevan women. They were enduring their own punishments. For now they needed to find another to replace Albain so they could remain The Twenty. It was a number of power and every bit was needed to keep Halstrid safe and secure for all her people.

  As he walked away, he thought he heard Albain laughing but didn’t turn around to be certain. Losing one’s magic could break the best of wizards. Bastien wasn’t optimistic Albain would survive the strain. He shook his head at the waste of such potential talent and went to seek an audience with the King.

  Albain fought to hide his amusement while he dressed, but the chuckles still escaped. Take away his magic, would they? Send him out into the world a mortal man? It was all laughable, really. The Nineteen knew so little for having members who had been wizards well over millennia. Albain had learned much at his mentor’s knee. Fortunately, Bastien believed himself to be Albain’s only mentor. That was not the case, but Albain’s true mentor was dead.

  He finished dressing and walked out of his cell with his back bent, eyes downcast. It wouldn’t do to let anyone know he still had enough strength to cause trouble. He would have that Wizard’s Stone or die trying. The Masters thought they were more powerful, but they knew so little. Now he had to plan again since the first plan had failed. He would round up the Kevan women and his allies in the other nations and return to Halstrid twice as strong as before. He might not be a wizard of the Twenty any longer, but that wouldn’t keep him from becoming a sorcerer.

  About the Author

  Ms. Missy Jane is the alter ego of a Texas mother of four who has been married to the same wonderful man for over eighteen years. A few years ago Missy finished reading a book by Mercedes Lackey and James Mallory titled The Outstretched Shadow, and thought “Now, what if…” and a monster was created. Missy now spends most of her time lost in worlds of her own making alternately loving and hating such creatures as vampires, shape-shifters and gargoyles (to name a few). When not writing, she spends her time reading, taking photos of her four beautiful daughters and training her husband to believe she’s always right. Missy’s work can be found on her site www.authormissyjane.com, her blog msmissyjane.blogspot.com, and other places around the web. Missy is often found playing around at www.facebook.com/ms.missyjane and www.twitter.com/msmissyjane.

  Look for these titles by Missy Jane

  Now Available:

  They Call Me Death

  Day Shift

  The sun’s not the only thin
g that’s too hot to handle.

  Day Shift

  © 2011 Missy Jane

  President Vardin isn’t the first vampire politician to make empty promises. Humans can work at night, he says. Humans will be safe on the streets, he says. It’s all bull. I’m still stuck on day shift at Langley’s Round The Clock Emporium, trying to earn enough to live from night to night.

  If I thought the sun’s harsh rays had turned society upside down, watch what happens when I witness a murder in the alley. The police keep bombarding me with questions until a detective with a bad attitude walks in and takes over. He’s unbelievably hot, way out of my league, and way, way out of my comfort zone. Because he’s the one thing I fear most. A vampire.

  Then I learn why the police seem so interested in me. My ex-husband is drawing a series of murders in his new comics. I’m in every one of them, and it looks like I’m supposed to be the last victim. The detective’s interest in my past—and his protective instincts—are bordering on unprofessional, but I can’t seem to bring myself to care.

  Because the last place I should want to be is the safest place on earth…a vampire’s embrace.

  Warning: If you like your vampires sparkly and emotional, don’t read this book. It contains an overworked, underpaid, bloodsucking hero who might break your heart.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Day Shift:

  I was gazing sightlessly at the mouth of the alley, daydreaming about nothing, when a flash of movement startled me. There had been no one there a heartbeat before, but now two men appeared to be fighting. I stood and grabbed the cordless phone from its base before stepping closer to the glass. They were near enough for me to see each hit land and quickly realize one was much stronger than the other. The weaker one looked vagrant, dressed in rags and a long, dirty trench coat. His dark hair hung in greasy, tangled strands past his shoulders. It could have been blond or gray. There was too much dirt to tell.