The Star Witch

by Linda Winstead Jones

  Isadora suspected she could not have a child, not without Sophie’s assistance. She and Will had been married two years, and they’d wanted children...they’d tried. Sophie’s gift of fertility had not yet been discovered, so they had not been able to call upon that magic. She didn’t know if it was Will who had been unable to have a child, or if it was her, but...

  She hated thinking of Will while another man held her in his arms, but she did not cry. The time for crying was past.

  The girl who had loved Willym had been gone a very long time. The woman who remained didn’t want love and the complications that came with it, but heaven help her—she wanted more of the way this man made her feel.

  What she felt and what she wanted wasn’t love, and it couldn’t ever be. But it was right for the woman she had become. For now.

  He had never slept with a woman before. Those who came to him for sex never stayed after the act was done.

  But it was nice to wake and find Isadora’s spine pressed against his chest. It was nice to find his arms so comfortably draped around her warm softness. He liked the feel of her skin against his, the even way she breathed in sleep, the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

  The sky beyond the window was barely gray. Morning was coming and with it the responsibilities that had brought him here: the Star, Esmun, his pledge to the Circle of Bacwyr.

  But right now he did not think of any of those duties.

  He shifted Isadora’s hair aside and kissed the back of her neck. She squirmed, but did not wake. He kissed his way very slowly down her spine, allowing his lips to trail along the soft, silky flesh of her back. When she woke he felt it in the way her breathing shifted and the sway of her backside against him.

  “Are you awake?” he whispered.

  “No.” Her voice was sleepy, satisfied.

  “Pity.” He continued to kiss his way down her spine until he reached the shapely small of her back—and there he lingered. “If you were awake, there are other things we could do.”

  “What other things?” she asked, sounding slightly more awake.

  He reached around her bare and beautiful body and slipped his fingers between her legs, while he worked his way back up her spine again with feathered kisses. “Do you know I have been hard more often than not since I first saw you?”

  “No, I did not know.” She laughed a little, and her legs fell slightly apart so he had greater access. While he caressed Isadora, she grew wet, and her body began to rock gently back and forth, as if he were already inside her.

  “It is true,” he said. “You know I will not lie. When I saw you at the emperor’s table that first night, when I opened my eyes and found you standing over my bath, when you told me that you did not like me...always.”

  She reached around, pressed her hand against his stomach, and let her hand fall gently and slowly downward, until she could see for herself that he was telling the truth.

  “But you are a man of great control,” she said, throwing his own words back at him as her fingers circled his erection.

  “Yes, but I am also human, Isadora.” At the moment he felt more human than he ever had before, more vulnerable. He needed this woman.

  She turned to face him and brought her lips to his for a long, deep kiss. There was a touch of desperation in that kiss. Passion and yielding and even a hint of something he did not quite grasp. Sadness, perhaps, or regret, though he did not feel regret in her body. Still kissing, Isadora continued to roll until Lucan was on his back and she hovered above him, kissing and caressing and taking command. Interesting.

  She straddled him, and guided him into her body. She moved slowly, deliberately, sinking down an inch at a time until he was buried deep within her. She remained there as they kissed, making only the smallest of movements. It was the kind of motion that could drive a man wild. And did.

  Eventually her movements grew faster and greater, until she stopped kissing him and sat up tall so that he was deeper within her than before. There was some morning light, which kept the room from complete darkness, so he could see her much more clearly than he had last night.

  Every curve of her face and feminine angle of her body was pronounced in the gray light, and the sway of her soft hair was sensual and free. She had come to him of her own free will, and that made this night more precious than he had thought possible.

  She possessed such power, such intense feminine energy. As she rode him, Isadora kept her eyes on his face. Such dark eyes, so expressive and strong. It was only when she experienced release that she closed those eyes. She trembled around and above him, she moaned and gave a small, sharp cry. While she still pulsed around him, Lucan pushed up and into her and found his own release.

  It was all he wanted from her, everything he required. And more.

  Isadora drifted down, kissed him again, and whispered, “I must go now.”

  “Why?”

  She smiled at him, though as usual it seemed a sad smile. “I cannot stay in your bed all day.”

  “Why not?”

  “That’s not who I am.”

  It was true enough. Isadora was not a woman to be commanded to a man’s bed...though that’s just what he had done.

  “Do you know how to fight?”

  She rolled off of him but looked back as she sat on the edge of the bed. “Fight?”

  “With a sword.”

  She shuddered slightly and tried to hide the response. “Of course not.”

  He sat behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She was afraid of the power of deadly weapons, as a proper woman should be. Still, war was coming, she needed to be able to protect herself.

  “I will teach you, while I’m here.”

  It seemed she trembled more deeply than before. “I don’t wish to kill anyone.”

  Of course she didn’t. In spite of her evident strength, she was a gentle woman. “I can teach you to defend yourself. That doesn’t mean you have to kill.”

  “Why?” she asked again.

  He moved her hair aside and kissed her shoulder. “So that if any man ever dares again to order you to his bed, you can say no with confidence.”

  “Saying no did me no good with you, Lucan Hern.”

  Again he kissed her shoulder. It was so well-shaped and pale and fine. “Since the age of nine, I have been given all that I desire without question. I suppose that makes me...” He hesitated, uncertain.

  “Spoiled,” Isadora supplied with a touch of humor in her voice. “Obnoxious. Demanding.”

  He hauled her back and gently pinned her to the bed. “You find me obnoxious?”

  She smiled gently. “Sometimes.”

  “Do you know what I find you?” Still pinning her down, he bent his head to kiss her throat.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Fascinating.” His lips moved lower. “Beautiful. Magnificent.” She was all that and more. When he moved his mouth to a taut nipple, Isadora tangled her fingers in his hair and held on. It wasn’t until he felt the metal of her ring pressing against his head that he remembered why he had ordered her to his bed in the first place.

  Reluctantly, he sat up. “I will escort you to your room.”

  “That isn’t necessary. I’ll take the hidden stairway.”

  “All the more reason for me to go with you. I should like to know the way.”

  “The passageways within the walls are musty and dirty, and there are spiderwebs everywhere. The way is certainly not fit for a man of your station.”

  She was teasing him, but he replied honestly, “If the stairway is fit for you, then it is more than suitable for me.”

  There were hidden stairways and doors within other hidden stairways, proof that whichever of Emperor Sebestyen’s ancestors had overseen the construction of this portion of the palace had been just as mistrustful as the current emperor.

  Isadora led Hern up the narrow stairwell, a candle in one hand and the other resting lightly against the cool, curving stone wall.

 
Liane had gladly given Isadora precise directions to Captain Hern’s chambers. Her smile had been wide and true as she’d delivered the careful instructions. This was what she wanted, after all. Isadora had taken a lover, and with that taking Will had been firmly put into the past, where he belonged. It was sad to leave that part of her life behind, but at the same time she felt invigorated. Isadora was no longer a prisoner of the past; she was no longer bound by a love that had done nothing but hurt her.

  Yes, Liane had gotten what she wanted. There would be no sharing of details, however. In that respect, the empress would have to remain disappointed.

  Isadora was very sure the emperor would prefer that their guest remain ignorant of the secret passageways, which could very well lead an assassin to his bedside, but she was not about to hide the way from him. There were so many twists and turns, it would be impossible for him to find his way to any room of importance. Her room was of no importance at all, and there were no hidden doorways between her chamber and his. Just a few twists and turns.

  “I do not know why you feel you must return to your own room,” Hern said softly. His voice echoed, as hers did when she answered.

  “I have duties. The empress needs me.”

  “The empress can find someone else to tend to her while I am here. I need you more than she does.” He sounded puzzled, and she wondered if he had ever in his life needed anyone.

  “It is my duty.”

  Isadora thought of the emperor’s words about what might happen to Liane and the babies if the palace was attacked. She could not imagine that anyone would harm innocents. She had defended herself in the past, she had fought for her life, and she had killed. But she was not a soldier, and she did not understand how they thought during combat.

  As she reached the door to her chamber, she turned to face Hern. He was her lover. She still felt him inside her, and she still marveled at the pleasure he had offered her. She did not love him, thank goodness, but there was an unexpected tenderness in her heart for this man who had helped her heal in a way she had not expected.

  “In battle, do you kill innocent women and children?”

  “Of course not.” He reached out and touched her face with tenderness. “Is that why you don’t like me? You think because I’m a warrior I’m a cruel barbarian.”

  “No. I just worry about what will happen if war ever reaches Arthes.”

  “It will, I imagine. All the more reason for me to teach you to use a sword.”

  “If warriors don’t kill innocent women and children, then why do I need a sword?” She knew the answer but needed to hear it from him.

  “Not all soldiers are honorable, Isadora.”

  She nodded her head slightly. She knew too well that many soldiers were not at all honorable. Those who had burned her cabin certainly had no honor. “This afternoon,” she said. “You can begin to teach me this afternoon, if you are available.”

  “Of course I am available, for you.”

  Her destiny was protection, and she had already learned that it wasn’t always so easy as a spell or a health potion. Sometimes, in order to protect, one had to fight.

  “And tonight?” she asked. He’d had her in his bed. Did he still want her there, or was his curiosity satisfied?

  “Come to me, in whatever way suits you. By this hidden stairway, by armed sentinel, on the arm of the emperor himself. I don’t care how you come to me, Isadora. Just come.”

  He stood on the step beneath her, which brought them almost face-to-face. It was nice to simply lean forward and lay her mouth on his for an all-too-brief moment. “I will, Captain,” she said as she drew away.

  He grabbed her arm, not too tightly, but with a firmness she had not expected. “Surely now you feel free to call me by my given name.”

  His name teased her tongue. She did enjoy the way he said her name, with just a touch of a Tryfynian accent and as if he enjoyed the taste of her name in his mouth. Still, calling him Lucan would bring them that much closer, and she knew some distance was best.

  “You hesitate,” he said in a low voice.

  “I’m not sure I know you well enough to call you by your given name, Captain,” Isadora argued.

  He leaned down and kissed her throat. “Mere moments ago I was inside you. Do you still feel me there?”

  “Yes,” she admitted in a reluctant whisper.

  “You slept in my arms, you kissed my mouth again and again, you rode me like a tigress. And yet you say you do not know me?”

  His scattering of kisses on her throat made her tingle from head to toe, and she closed her eyes. “I will consider your argument,” she conceded.

  He drew away from her reluctantly. “You have the stubbornness of a Circle warrior.” A smile barely touched his lips. “Though I have never seen a soldier near as pretty as you.”

  “I’ll see you this afternoon,” Isadora said as she opened the door to her room, handed Hern the candle he would need to find his way down the stairwell, and slipped into her own room. She closed the door, and for a moment after stood there with her hand over the cold stone of the doorway that was built into the wall.

  She took a deep breath, turned...

  And almost ran into the Emperor Sebestyen.

  Juliet rose from her pallet and faced the morning sun. All around her, Anwyn soldiers slept. They had not made camp until very late, so she could not wake them so early. The trip had been a long one, and they needed their rest.

  There was no hurry. She was not needed in Arthes just yet.

  Her beloved husband Ryn awoke and reached out to lay his hand on her belly. That roundness was covered by gold silk. As Queen, she was not only allowed to wear the golden gowns that marked her station, she was required to do so. It was not a chore, as the gowns she had brought with her were cut amply, and many were sleeveless and short, as well, to allow her skin to breathe. She had taken to the Anwyn heat quickly and could no longer endure the binding frocks she had worn all her life.

  She had grown large of belly more quickly than she’d imagined was possible, but of course when she conceived this child she had not known that the Anwyn Queen’s pregnancies did not last nine months, as human pregnancies did.

  In less than two months, Juliet would give birth to the daughter who would one day be Queen of the Anwyn, as her mother was now Queen.

  “Full moon tonight,” Ryn said as he kissed her shoulder.

  “Yes, I know.” For the next three nights, the Anwyn would change into wolves when the sun set. It would slow down their journey considerably. It would also be the last time the change came upon them, as they were moving too far away from the mountains and The City that fed their Anwyn magic.

  “Isadora needs me,” she added. “She’s so strong, I’ve never before sensed that need from her. I don’t want to fail her.”

  “You won’t.”

  She was not so sure. As always, where her sisters were concerned, her visions of the future were cloudy.

  As they watched the sun come up, Kei—the father Juliet had not met until recently—joined them.

  “I don’t care if you are a King,” Kei said gruffly, “get your hands off of my daughter.”

  Ryn was wonderfully good-tempered and did not take offense. Besides, he was getting accustomed to his father-in-law’s brusqueness. “Not just yet,” he responded without anger.

  Kei just snorted, and then he sat beside them. “This is not our battle we’re going into, Daughter,” he said with his usual lack of grace. “The Anywn have no quarrel with the emperor or the rebels. I don’t care who sits on the throne of Columbyana, and neither should you.”

  “We’re not going into battle for a throne. We’re going for my sisters.”

  “Half-sisters,” Kei muttered.

  “Sisters,” Juliet said precisely.

  Kei muttered something she could not understand.

  “Did you care for my mother at all?” she asked.

  Her father’s head snapped around, and he glared at h
er with eyes almost as golden as her own. Kei was a fierce Anwyn male, a rogue who had left The City to live in the mountains. “Of course I did. She was not my mate, but if I had not cared for her, I never would have laid with her. You know that is not the Anwyn way.”

  Kei had never told Juliet—or anyone else—that on the night when she was conceived, Lucinda Fyne had cast a spell that made herself look and sound like the mate he had lost. She had not tricked him; he knew very well that it was not his mate who lay beneath him. But there had been a comfort there that he’d needed at the time. In a way, Lucinda had saved Kei that night. If not for her gift of sight, Juliet would never know the truth of what had happened.

  “Yes, I know it is not the Anwyn way,” she said gently. “You have the opportunity now to repay Lucinda Fyne for giving you a child, and to prove that you did care for her, by fighting for her daughters. All of them.”

  He did not like that contention, but he didn’t argue. For now, anyway. As Kei rose he looked at Ryn again and scowled. “Can’t you keep your hands off of her for the span of a few heartbeats?”

  “I’d rather not,” Ryn responded truthfully.

  Juliet leaned against her husband and rested her hand over his...and over their child. “We don’t have much time,” she said as her father walked away. She had seen in a glorious vision that the curse would be ended, and that it would not take Ryn or Kane from the Fyne women who loved them. And yet, all things in the future were susceptible to change. Decisions made, or not made, could alter what was to be.

  “Time enough?” Ryn asked.

  A sliver of forewarning sliced through Juliet, and her body jerked slightly. “I don’t know.”

  Chapter Eight

  The witch held her breath for a long, quiet moment.

  Sebestyen leaned closer to Isadora. She looked freshly tumbled, and there was a flush to her cheeks that he had not seen on her before. “What do you think you’re doing?”