He groaned and felt moisture behind his eyelids.
Spell or sorcery, murky as a mage could spin one, how could Preece have forgotten the incredible female who'd become his mate for life? His little purple jewel, the only woman to ever befriend him, the noblewoman who'd given up a prince and the wealth of Greensward's kingdom for a grim outcast? A heartless mercenary and a worst of all, a Waniand?
"Kaelan? Can you hear me?"
He jerked open his eyes, distrusting his ears. But they'd not played him false, for there Moreya sat, keeping vigil at his bedside. He stretched out his right hand and felt her clasp it. Her flesh was warm and swamped his being with a dozen sensations at once.
How could anything have sponged his brain of all the conflicting feelings Moreya evoked? Gratitude, shame, anger, lust, sorrow, bone-deep belonging and satisfaction. Swamping him at the same moment, clamoring for expression.
Shame won out.
"You must listen," he pleaded. "I do not ask that you excuse my denial of our union. It is a matter of public record and shame. I cannot be exculpated, but I would have you understand the reason for my confusion."
"So, you maintain you were confused?" She did not sound particularly forgiving. Nor was her facial expression the soft, endearing smile he longed to see. But she looked at him intently and he knew she would weigh his words carefully. He could expect no more.
"I argued with Bourke in Ataraxia. He had...deceived me for long years. It seemed you might have been part of that, and in unreasoning fury I spoke rashly. It was, I freely admit. I witlessly averred that I wished I'd never met you and would know naught about you. I banished Bourke from my life. I've not seen him since I left Ataraxia."
She blinked her violet eyes once, then again, then swallowed a visible lump in her throat. "You banished Bourke? And you think he made you forget me, with one of his incantations?"
"'Twould have taken less effort for him to weave such a spell than for me to squash a beetle. His powers are beyond the ken of most people. But mayhap he'd not counted on the effect a dragon would have. The instant the firedrake descended, I knew you, knew the reptile came at your behest. That knowledge in turn bared all that had been cloaked from my mind."
She pulled her hand free. "Why would an argument with Bourke make you sorry you met me? You regretted that Bourke and I conspired to save your hide?"
Preece sighed loudly and drew himself into a sitting position. "Taroch and the others had been living on an outer isle near Ataraxia. There was a holy temple with ancient scrolls and texts that foretold of a deliverer. A trueblood raised within Glacia's borders. The son of King Tal and Queen Sarent." When she merely stared at him expectantly, he clarified. "My parents."
"You? The redeemer named in some hidden prophecy?"
"As you might guess, I did not eagerly embrace the idea. I fought against it with what little strength I had, but Bourke colluded with the Ataraxian high priests and Taroch. The Waniand enclave had been told I would come. Bourke ensured it, by enchanting me to yearn for the island realm from the time he first found me beside the slain body of my mother."
"Oh, Preece."
Absurdly, he was stung by the change in address. She had first spoken his secret name. Now he was back to Preece.
"Bourke hated Cronel. It seemed more than convenient that Cronel asked me to escort a Yune who happened to draw firedrakes like a beacon. A Yune who would jump at the chance to accompany me to Ataraxia as a way of avoiding dragons. I began to see webs within webs."
"He seemed like such a kind soul. Now you make him sound evil."
Preece shook his head, wincing as the motion renewed his headache. "Nay. He believed it was his divine duty to raise me to manhood so the prophecy could be enacted. And so it has been. I led the Waniands back to this castle. Taroch reclaimed the throne for our kind."
She'd risen to her feet and now paced the length of Preece's bedchamber. His heart thumped the first time she crossed to the doors leading to his sitting room and bathing area. He feared she might stride back out of his life after what he'd revealed.
But she turned back and furrowed her brow, skirted furnishings without really seeing them, and he realized she was deep in thought. He slid his feet to the floor and quietly drew on the long robe he found at the foot of his massive wood bedframe.
Moreya stared at him as if seeing him for the first time without his damned cowl. "So...you believe you were lured to me by the same sort of captivation? More of Bourke's conjurings?"
Preece did not nod again. He dropped his gaze. The shame grew in his breast, made him long once more for a dark, obscuring cowl. He had wounded her womanly feelings enough. It could not please her to learn his desire arose from a magician's enchantment curse or potion.
"That might explain your actions, but it does not justify mine."
She did not sound angry. Neither did she look it, when again he raised his gaze to meet hers. It was direct, reasoning, mayhap just a little warm. Hope - astonishing as it was to acknowledge such a need inside himself - surged to the fore, smiting common sense and every other emotion.
Even as he cast about for a reply, though, the surge of hope dwindled. Bourke had been in the throne room that day, hovering and hidden, from the very first time Preece had beheld Moreya at the foot of Cronel's dais. The wizard had said as much.
"He was the chair to which I pinned your skirts."
Something crumpled and died in the back of her eyes, and Preece fought his instincts. They screamed at him to go to her, enfold her in his arms, deny that her tenderness for him could be pure artifice. He remained where he was and spoke softly. "We can never know. I'll never lay eyes again on Bourke. He has forsaken me."
She openly wiped at her cheeks and Preece felt another stab of conscience. To cause one's lifemate pain was another violation of the Waniand code. "Amongst my people," she mumbled, "if a union comes about through guile or duplicity, or should one party learn salient facts the other withheld, it is grounds to have the marriage revoked."
Preece clutched the bedpost, reeling so hard he had to fight for his next breath. She wanted the bond severed. Nay, she still wanted the bond severed, as she'd claimed on the lists earlier. She knew what termination required. Preece had failed her. The entire kingdom knew now of his grave transgression. His life would be forfeit.
"What is it? Should I summon the royal physician?" She rushed to his side and pressed a palm to his brow.
"Moreya, you know there is only one way to permanently sever our lifemate bond. You wanted the firedrake to kill me."
"Nay, 'twas a cruel and foul lie. One I almost believed myself. But I was thrilled when the king got the dragon to leave. I couldn't watch the beast hurt you, and I realized I could never have let it slay you. Even when I thought you'd used me and cast me aside for the sake of your own ambitions, I loved you. I still do. Whatever spawned it no longer matters. I can't change how I feel."
"My only ambition was to find peace. I've yet to achieve that life's dream."
"You swore out a statement to Queen Vela that you'd wed me to spare her life and Velansare's. That Cronel meant for me to be some secret weapon of mass destruction. What of that, of how you've become so powerful here?"
"That was true in part. Bourke warned me of Cronel's plan. I did not tell you at the time, Moreya, because you had only just lost your father. I would not add to your burden by telling you I believed he was poisoned by the king; that your betrothal was something Cronel engineered to serve his thirst for new realms."
"You truly believe all that?" She sounded surprised, but not as stunned as she might have been long months past. They had both had time and hard lessons since.
"I believe it. And I am powerful here now because I helped Taroch, because there are some who did not truly detest Waniands but professed to in defense of their own skins...dark or fair."
"Oh, Preece, it all seems so heartless still. Thinking that your people have been oppressed for generations harkening back to some geno
cide no one truly can support. That greedy bastards like Cronel could harness power and abuse it, while all look on yet do naught. I - "
"We can right things now, Moreya. As I must make amends for what I have done." He took the hand she'd pressed to his brow and clasped it firmly between his palms. "Renouncing you, even though there was good reason for doing so, is a punishable offense. My cousin bears me affection, but that changes not his royal duty. He cannot ignore what I did. He may ask you - "
"No, I'll not see you condemned all over again! Kaelan, I could not bear it. I would have us both slain or banished. Would he do that, send us both away?"
"I do not know. Is that your choice, to remain lifemated and wedded?"
She flung herself at him with such sudden ferocity, they both fell back onto the bed. Preece found himself buried amid her gentian locks, her arms clinging to his neck, her tears trickling down onto his bare throat where his robe gapped open.
Need for her pushed everything else from his awareness.
Preece rolled, sweeping her beneath him as he sought her mouth for a desperate kiss. Their mouths came together and he surrendered utterly to the wash of feelings whelming him. The frantic need was still strong, but no more essential or true than the sense of unity, of reunion, the recapture of something lost, the precious, inexplicable rightness.
No sorcerer could command such cognizance. Magic and trickery could change the appearance of objects, ripple time, make distances huge or nonexistent, spark a longing or thirst. But no magic could utterly slake that thirst.
And in all the years he'd yearned to see Ataraxia, he could never explain why. Wherefore was often the clue to enchantment. Empty desires with no reasonable explanation might come from drinking a potion, from a secret spell.
But the explanation for what he felt toward this Yune had solid reasons. Hundreds of them. Every bone in his body, every sinew, every loop of intestine. His blood recognized hers, heard the echoed call of her being and rejoiced in it.
She was his lifemate, his chosen female counterpart. The woman who would bear his children, did the Creator gift him with offspring. The body and soul his needed for inner peace and completion. The reason for his life.
"Moreya, do not weep," he whispered, stroking her hair. "You are exhausted. I am weary, also. Of the world, of the duties pressed upon me. Of being so long without you here in my arms. Rest with me. We will speak more anon. For now, just stay close to my body and permit me this. Please."
"Oh, Kaelan! I was so alone and frightened."
"Hush, lady mine. You are no longer alone. I reclaim you." He tucked her into his bed and pulled the covers over them both. He cradled her against his chest, slowing his breathing in the old Waniand trick he'd mastered as a young boy. They no longer hibernated unless they sought to. And they did not enter deepest slumber for days or weeks, only hours. But Preece had heard lifemated pairs could suspend their functions and take such rest together. So he willed it, and at last Moreya quieted, drifted, followed him into slumber...sweet, dark and deep.
But Preece stirred not long after dropping into the old sleep, realizing someone rapped upon his bolted outer doors. His heart immediately pounded as he recalled that Taroch would send a summons.
Questions of law and equity had not been answered yet.
But it was not an order from the king, merely an eve servant with a tray of food. Preece accepted it, rebolted his doors and threw another hunk of wood on the low brazier. He climbed back into bed, pulled his lover into his arms. The demon lover who'd so terrified him for night after night. The glowing purple female some distant corner of his mind had never truly forgotten.
She curled against him easily and Preece closed his eyes.
He was no madman.
He was not wroth with the world this night, not vexed or confused. Nay, he was just the opposite. Sure of himself, of his innermost desire and its origin. No outside persuasion had given him this particular need and longing. Bourke had not made Preece choose this woman to clutch to his breast.
Preece had freely done so, just as he'd recalled whilst staring at her across the lists that afternoon. Preece wanted the cherished unity and serenity he knew with Moreya, wanted it to last forever. Bourke had sworn Preece would always recognize her, come to realize he'd chosen the female best suited to coexist with his own male essence.
In that, at least, Bourke had spun no web of trickery.
Moreya was in Taroch's royal keep, in Preece's personal chambers, in his arms, in his blood. And there she would remain this time. Whatever Preece had to do to ensure it.
* * *
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Moreya lay awake, savoring the discovery she was neither in her narrow cot in the monastery at Axcroft nor curled up on her rotten straw pallet in the attic over the Fatted Goose. She lay in a very opulent, very wide bed...on a fine, thick feather mattress. A dim glow came from the wall brazier. A tray of food and pitcher of wine or mead sat nearby.
Along her left side she felt a very firm masculine thigh.
She propped herself on her elbow and swept the hair from her eyes. The darkness was speared by a shaft of moonlight. It streamed in through a high arrow slit in the stone wall. A castle wall. Her heart leapt.
Yes! She was in Glacia's royal keep. She followed the beam of moonlight to where it glistened on strands of silver. She at last shared Preece's bed. "Kaelan."
He grunted and drew her into his arms. "If I'm bewitched, I care not. What say you, lady? Will you still feed my entrails to one of your dragons?"
"Nay," she answered slowly, wondering at the truth she was about to speak. She could not seem to stop herself. "I still love you. If Bourke gave me this love I feel, I shall cherish the gift until the day I die."
A long forefinger traced along her chin. "I am no longer certain sorcery was involved. I remember more, some of what Bourke said. He vehemently denied being involved in our attraction, and wizardry does indeed have limitations. When I held you, it was as though I'd found sustenance after a long siege."
He drew her close and kissed her, and Moreya felt again the low, searing heat between them. It spiraled down to her core, set her to trembling. "My very pulse matches yours. I was able to draw you into the deep sleep of Waniands by timing my heartbeats. Yours matched of their own accord. We are wed in the ways of your race, forever bound in the way of mine. I would not change what is, Moreya."
"I'm glad," she whispered. She was, and would have shouted it from the battlements had it not been the middle of the night. "I will beseech the king to find an acceptable sanction. You were punished enough by Cronel. He had you tortured. You didn't think - "
"We will not speak of the dark past, Moreya. We have survived and found our rightful places, been reunited. We must look to the future.
A thought struck Moreya and she rose from the bed. "Why do you occupy these chambers? A servant said this was the king's sleeping abode before Waniands came to the realm. You sleep in a royal chamber, yet you are only chancellor? If Taroch is your first cousin, you are of royal blood, Kaelan. You sh - "
The strike of flint broke off her words. Preece had left the bed also. He used a thin burning reed to light a brace of candles on the table. He stood tall and naked and still very handsome, but there was a hollowness to his frame that she did not like. He had suffered more than he would admit.
"You were bruised and bleeding just hours ago, " she reminded gently. "Go back to bed. You'll take a chill."
He shook his head, his shoulders, his entire body and donned his chamber robe. "Sup with me."
When she'd seated herself beside him and they'd both begun to eat the cold meat and cheese the servants had left them, Preece began speaking quietly. "Taroch's father and mine were brothers. The same royal blood courses through Taroch's veins. He likes crowds and fawning attention. He has an innate charm and affinity for other humans. You know what a beast I am. Intimately."
She did. But he'd not mated with her this evening. She was yet fu
lly dressed in her leggings and shirt. Perhaps Preece was still weak after the long days of fighting. Or even more likely, his Waniand rutting season had not yet begun and he was incapable..."Preece, if we kiss and remain near to one another in these rooms, I suppose you will go into rut again without long delay."
He crossed to the barred doors and opened them, set the tray outside for a passing servant. Then he locked his doors once more, but did not turn back to look at Moreya. She could make out his silhouette there by the dark portals, and for an instant she rushed backward in time. To when he'd loitered beyond her chamber doors, keeping himself aloof. Hiding inside a black cowl.
What did he hide now?
"You mentioned the tribunal and my torture."
"Yes, but if you've no wish to speak of it, we can talk of other things. Surely there must be a good many things we might discuss. We have been months apart."
"Cronel had me tortured while we awaited the tribunal. He visited me personally the last day, and grabbed my bollocks in his fist. Do you recall his hands, the surplus digits?"
Moreya shuddered with revulsion. She remembered Cronel's disgusting hands quite vividly. "Too well," she whispered.
"They gave him unusual power when he made a fist. Whilst holding my male parts until he partially crushed them."
Moreya gasped aloud. "I'm glad Glaryd murdered him. He had tortured her, too, viciously maimed her. He deserved to die for his cruelty and unspeakable deeds."
Preece gave what might have been a nod. Moreya still could not see him clearly, but understood in some unspoken way that he needed to cling to the shadows. To remain apart just a bit longer.
"The Ataraxians are very strange people. Very intelligent, far superior to the people of other known realms in every respect. Their healers and priests have perfected the healing arts so that they can channel their mental will through their fingers and alleviate suffering. When I was first brought to them, I was beyond my own threshold for pain. I wished only to die."
Biondine, Shannah Page 24
