The Star Witch

by Linda Winstead Jones

  “As you can well see, I have need of my own gratification.”

  She licked her lips and said nothing.

  “What was in the wine? Something to make me ill? To make me impotent? To make me sleep?” A flash of her dark eyes gave her away. “Sleep it is.” He guided her hand up the length of his erection once, before releasing her. “You apparently think very little of me, if you believe I would force myself upon a woman who does not want me.” “You ordered me here, and now you expect me to believe that you care about what I want?” she argued, her voice still softly rasping from the climax. He loved that smoky voice with a surprising intensity.

  “I see in you the need and the desire to be here. You simply have not seen it for yourself.” He rolled away from her quivering body and left the bed. “Until you do, I have no need of you in my bed.”

  Isadora scrambled off the mattress and grabbed her clothes. She struggled with the undergarment, and after a moment he assisted her, uninvited. She was so anxious to be dressed and away from him, she did not protest.

  “It is that easy?” she asked, still breathless. “You’re just going to let me go?”

  “Not entirely,” Lucan said as he finished with the final hook and eye. “The emperor must believe we are intimately involved. If he thinks you did not please me tonight, he might be angry with you. We don’t want that, now do we?”

  Isadora grabbed the pink dress from the floor and stepped into it. The hue looked a bit better on her now, while she had the flush of a powerful orgasm coloring her cheeks. “What do you suggest?”

  “You will come to my chambers tomorrow night and the next and the next and every night until I return home.”

  “That could be weeks, if you stay for your brother’s wedding!”

  “Yes, I know.”

  Fully dressed, she did her best to restore her dignity. “I suppose you expect to change my mind about having relations with you.”

  “Perhaps. Then again, perhaps you will change my mind, and during our evenings together I will be satisfied to enjoy games of cards or scintillating conversations about worldly happenings or philosophy.”

  “I’m sure,” she said dryly as she turned away to leave his quarters.

  “Isadora?”

  She stopped at the sound of her name and spun around almost angrily. “What?”

  Lucan stepped toward her, his pace slow. “I won’t force myself upon you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I will touch you again, I will make you tremble and scream. But I won’t join with you until you ask it of me.”

  “How very noble of you,” she said dryly. “I suppose you will send for a girl from Level Three to ease your pain tonight.”

  “No,” he replied honestly. “I don’t want any other woman but you, and I will wait until you are ready for me.” He saw the surprise in her eyes, and then the disbelief. He didn’t take offense at her disbelief. Eventually, she would understand.

  “Good night, Captain Hern.”

  “Call me Lucan,” he said amiably. “If we are to be lovers, it is only fitting.”

  She made a gruff sound of displeasure as she opened the door. The sentinels who had escorted her to him waited. Lucan laid a possessive hand on Isadora’s shoulder and looked the eldest of the sentinels in the eye.

  “If the emperor happens to ask...she was magnificent.”

  Chapter Five

  “She is the one who will lead us to our goal?”

  Lucan nodded and muttered a distant, “Yes,” as Franco entered the room. As far as the palace residents were concerned, the amiable young man was a personal manservant who served the visiting Circle warrior. In truth, Franco was a warrior himself, though he was not as highly placed in the order as Lucan. In spite of his young age, he was a talented swordsman and possessed a sharp, logical mind.

  “I do not trust her,” Franco said.

  “Neither do I,” Lucan replied. “But she is necessary.”

  Franco’s mid-length dark blond hair was pulled back into a neat queue, and his uniform was a serviceable buckskin. The smile and easygoing attitude he assumed for this role was not entirely a false one; when he was not called to fight, Franco was truly a good-natured fellow.

  “What do the servants say?”

  Franco laughed lightly as he dropped into a chair and thrust out his long legs. “Very little. I’m afraid. They do not trust me.”

  “And you have such a trustworthy face.” Lucan smiled for the first time since he’d closed the door on Isadora. “I thought you would be able to charm a few secrets out of a chambermaid or two by this time.”

  “It is early yet,” Franco said.

  While it was true that Franco was an agreeable sort, the man was as deadly as any warrior in the Circle, and would do whatever was necessary to see the order restored to its glory and power.

  “We don’t have much time,” Lucan reminded the younger man.

  “I understand.”

  After Franco left the room for his own nearby, small quarters, Lucan prepared for bed as usual, first with physical exercises to burn the energy that glowed within him, and then with the hroryk elde to still his mind and spirit. Neither was entirely successful in cleansing him of Isadora’s influence, but they did calm him to a certain degree.

  He wished, as he doused candles, that he would not dream of Isadora tonight. She was a means to an end, a necessity, as he had informed Franco just a short while ago.

  He could have finished what he’d started when he’d made her tremble and buck beneath him, naked but for the ring as she had been in his dreams before tonight. She had wanted him then. Her body had been ready and willing to take his. And if he had asked for all she had to give, she would have said yes without hesitation.

  And yet he had known even as she lay trembling on his bed that she was not ready for what he wanted from her.

  He wanted Isadora ready for him in all ways, and she would be. Eventually. How long was he willing to wait? They did not have much time here. He needed to accomplish his goals as quickly as possible so the Circle could reclaim their rightful place and Tryfyn could grow strong again.

  The needs of one man, or of one woman, were trivial in comparison.

  Even though it was still early in the morning. Isadora was awake when the door to her chamber creaked slowly open. For a moment she held her breath, wondering if Lucan Hern would be so bold.

  But of course it was Mahri, who had once again forgotten to knock. Isadora sat up and glared at the skittish maid.

  “I thought you might still be asleep,” Mahri whispered. The girl was loaded down with clothing. The gowns she carried were elegant, like the ones Isadora had worn in her guise of the empress’ cousin. But there were so many of them, and they were constructed of all sorts of fabric and colors. For a woman who had dressed herself in plain black for so many years, those colors were almost frightening.

  “I’ve been awake for a while,” Isadora said as Mahri deposited the armload of fine fabrics on the padded chair that sat in the comer of the room.

  But not very long, to be honest. When she’d crawled into her own bed after returning from Hern’s rooms, she’d expected a sleepless night. Her body trembled with release and anger and surprise long after the man’s hands had ceased touching her. How dare he? How dare she?

  Angry or not she’d very soon fallen into a deep and dreamless sleep. She hadn’t slept so well in years.

  Mahri came to Isadora’s bed and smiled in that completely innocent and guileless way she had. “I hear Captain Hern was very well pleased.”

  News did travel fast in this damned place. “Did you?”

  “Yes. Apparently he is quite taken with you.”

  Isadora threw off the coverlet and sat up. “Captain Hern is quite taken with the empress’ cousin, a woman who does not exist.” A homeless witch without a decent dress or a single silver coin to her name would likely not please him near as much.

  Mahri sat on the side of the bed and lifted her feet off
the floor in a girlish fashion. “An order has been issued that no one is to tell Captain Hern that you are not a part of the royal family. The emperor issued the command himself, and no one wants to displease him.” The girl shuddered. “Emperor Sebestyen scares me. I would not wish to be the one to displease him.”

  “Of course the emperor scares you,” Isadora said. Anyone in the palace who cared for their hide was scared of their unpredictable ruler. “What if the captain’s own brother, Esmun, tells him that I am not the woman he believes me to be? They don’t spend a lot of time in one another’s company, but surely they speak.”

  “This was discussed, and the emperor even suggested that Esmun could...disappear, if necessary.”

  Isadora snorted beneath her breath. The emperor knew no boundaries!

  “But it was finally decided that Esmun Hern does not know enough about you to ruin the story. He only knows that you serve the empress, that you care for her and are her companion. Those are acceptable duties for a cousin. Most of the palace servants don’t even know you’re a witch. You don’t stay on Level Seven, like the other witches, and it isn’t as if the empress and emperor discuss such matters with those who serve them. Those few who do know, some of the sentinels and ministers, will be warned not to share the secret. You have no need to worry.”

  It was odd for Mahri to be so friendly, to sit on the side of the bed beside Isadora and converse. They had come to a truce of sorts, and Mahri was no longer afraid of the witch. But in truth, they had very little in common. They were both female, and they both served Empress Liane; beyond that, they were as different as night and day.

  “What’s it like?” Mahri asked, her gaze flitting shyly to the window that looked out on a chilly, gray day.

  “What is what like?”

  “To be with a man...that way. I have heard that it can be wonderful, but I have also heard that it can be terrible. Which is the truth?”

  She should not be surprised that the girl was a virgin. Mahri’s life and position here were sheltered, and she did not have an outgoing personality. While her face was pretty enough, it was not extraordinary in any way. She would not draw many admiring glances of the men in the castle.

  “Both can be true,” Isadora said gently. “It depends upon the man and the situation.”

  Mahri cast a shy smile Isadora’s way. “Which applies to Captain Hern?”

  Anything she told the maid would likely find its way through the palace, probably within the hour. Isadora was tempted to tell Mahri that Hern was an inadequate lover with an unusually small male appendage, but she was wise enough to know that tale would come back to bite her. She and her lover had reached an agreement, and she suspected Lucan Hern was a man who abided by his word. He would not force himself on her...though if he touched her again as he had last night, she would very likely force herself upon him.

  No, last night her body had responded with intensity because it had been neglected for so long. Tonight, and all the nights to come, would be different. She did not want Lucan Hern, she did not need him or anything he had to offer.

  “He was more than adequate,” she said in a calm, mysterious voice.

  Mahri sighed and clasped her hands in her lap. “Do you love him?”

  “Of course not!” Isadora stood quickly.

  “I should not have asked,” Mahri said as she, too, left the bed. “It just seems very romantic to have a man command you to his bed because he wants you above all others.”

  Romantic? No. Demanding, insufferable, and egotistical. But never romantic.

  “His valet is quite handsome,” Mahri said too casually. “Have you met Franco? We ran into one another at the laundry yesterday, and he was very friendly.”

  “I have not met Franco, but if I am to offer you womanly advice, it would be to beware of handsome and friendly men.” Isadora opened her wardrobe and touched the dark blue everyday gown she wore so often. There was a brown and a gray fashioned much like it, simple, ordinary frocks that suited her life in this place. Hern liked her in blue. She reached past the gown she had intended to wear and grabbed the brown.

  “No!” Mahri snatched the plain dress from her hand. “I have brought you several new, pretty things to wear. Empress Liane insists that as long as Captain Hern is residing in the palace, you are to be her cousin.”

  Dressed in a spring green gown that was much too fancy for her tastes, Isadora placed her hands over the empress’ belly and closed her eyes. Her powers seemed to have grown stronger overnight. She did not have Juliet’s gift for divining the future, but this morning she saw many things as she touched Liane and her children.

  “They are healthy,” Isadora said. “Small, but well-formed and strong.”

  “He,” the empress said in a lowered voice. “Not they. You don’t know who might be listening.”

  Eventually everyone would know that Liane and Sebestyen had created twin boys, but the empress was determined to keep that news to herself, for now. The emperor would be furious, unless they could convince him that they had not known. That was unlikely.

  How angry would the emperor be? Mahri was right to be afraid of the man. If Isadora allowed herself to be afraid of anyone, Emperor Sebestyen would be at the top of her list.

  There had been a time when she’d had the power to cast a protection spell strong enough to keep men and danger and war away from Fyne Mountain. That spell had been broken, eventually, but it had held strong for many years. Did she have enough power to cast a protection spell over Liane and her sons now? Was the return of power she felt enough? Not yet, she suspected.

  When Isadora stepped away from the bed, Liane asked, “All is truly well?”

  “Very much so, yes,” Isadora said.

  The empress sat, with Isadora’s help, and as she settled into her mountain of pillows, she smiled. “Tell me all about Captain Hern.”

  The heat in her cheeks might be a blush. She never blushed! “That is a private matter, my lady.”

  “He said you were magnificent.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “And yet you cannot utter even one word of compliment for him?”

  “I was offered to Captain Hern with no more consideration than a welcoming gift of wine and fruit, with no regard for my own wishes, and you want me to compliment him?”

  “You’re much too sensitive about such matters, Isadora. In the past I was offered to many men with no regard for my own wishes, but that doesn’t mean I was fool enough not to enjoy myself when I was lucky enough to land in the bed of a real man.”

  Isadora cocked her head and studied Liane. “You made the best of the situation in which you were thrown. You even embraced your situation, and the outcome was right, for you. You have said many times that you and I are alike, my lady, and in many ways that may be true. But I have never been one to easily accept what fate throws at me, when what comes is not of my choosing.”

  “You should,” Liane responded, not taking offense at anything Isadora said. “There is a time to fight, but there is also a time to accept.” She grinned. “You look beautiful in the green gown. Some of the dresses Mahri delivered to your quarters once belonged to Sebestyen’s sisters, but a few were once my own.”

  “I assumed as much.” Liane’s discarded gowns would be the ones crafted of sheer fabric, or that sported a neckline cut to the navel. It had been very easy to discern which of the frocks had been made for the emperor’s concubine, and which had been made for his more proper sisters.

  She would go to Hern naked before she’d wear those seductive gowns.

  The spring green gown fit relatively well, which was why she’d chosen to wear it today. Many of the others needed to be altered. She was not a talented seamstress like Sophie, but she could take a tuck here and there and lower a hem.

  “Perhaps you are too shy to share details about your love life, but I can see that Captain Hern pleased you.”

  “You cannot see—” Isadora began.

  “I can,” Liane in
terrupted. “Your eyes are livelier than usual this morning, and your cheeks still display the flush of love.”

  “If my looks are improved this morning, it is because I slept unusually well.”

  Liane’s smile widened. “I imagine you did.”

  Isadora turned to leave. She had lots of mending and alterations to deal with, a chore that could be accomplished in the privacy of her room.

  Before she reached the door, Liane called, “He wishes to see you this afternoon.”

  “What?” she spun. “I’m to go to his chambers tonight, but—”

  “Apparently he wishes to woo you properly. You should be flattered.”

  “I’ll have Mahri send the message that I’m too busy to be wooed,” Isadora said sharply.

  “You will go,” Liane said, her voice harsher, less friendly than before. “Sebestyen wishes for you to befriend Lucan Hern and to listen. In the flush of his infatuation, he might say something that we need to know.”

  “You wish me to spy, I know. Is tonight not soon enough? I have mending and alterations to see to today.”

  “We have seamstresses to see to the alterations, Isadora. Your job is to keep an eye on Hern.” The empress lifted a pale, slender hand. “Seduce him, Isadora, night after night after night. Enjoy. Listen. Remember. Last night you left his room quite early, I hear. Eventually you will want to spend the night in his bed. Some men talk in their sleep, and—”

  “I have no desire to sleep at Lucan Hern’s side.”

  Liane’s features hardened. Pregnant and all but helpless or not, she could be a fierce and formidable woman. “I told you months ago that I did not know how long I could keep you alive. I did my part. Now it’s your turn.”

  Lucan followed behind an infuriated Isadora as she stalked down the wide corridor of Level Eight. Her pale green gown looked perfectly suited to a cold day—not that she was at all cool—and the skirts of that gown swished with the full force of her swagger. His eyes fell to her backside, which was too well hidden in the folds of fabric. He knew that backside to be firm and shapely, and he wished to see it again. Now.