Bride By Command

by WINSTEAD JONES, LINDA

  The door opened and Morgana stepped into the room, bidding a sweet and tired farewell to Iann, who, at Jahn’s instruction, had “accidentally” run into her as she left the laundry, as one sentinel or another did every day. Ignorant of her status or not, Morgana was empress, and she deserved an escort. From now on, a single man could not suffice. How would he explain that away?

  She smiled brightly when she saw him, even though her eyes were tired. Perhaps allowing her to work, as she’d said she wanted to do, was a mistake. An empress should have nothing to do but to make herself pretty and entertain if it pleased her and love her emperor. Morgana should be waited upon night and day . . . and she would be, very soon.

  She walked into his arms and melted there, seeking comfort as he held her, sighing deeply.

  “You’re tired.”

  “I am,” she responded.

  “Tomorrow you will not go to the laundry,” Jahn insisted. It was no small concern that two of the bridal candidates were dead. One had been an accident and one an assassination, but that did not make Morgana seem any less fragile to him.

  She laughed lightly. “I will not quit because I have had a few long days. We will need the extra money when the babies start to come.”

  Babies. Jahn’s heart leapt at the thought. There would be babies, of course, and he would not be at all surprised if Morgana was carrying an heir very soon. If she was not already with child. The production of an heir was important; it was the reason for this bridal contest. And yet, it was also secondary to what he had found.

  “I’ve been given a raise in my salary,” he said. “We’ll have everything we need, and you will not have to work at all.”

  “Why did you get a raise in your salary?”

  He was tired of the lies, tired of spinning one story after another. “There are some things I cannot tell you,” he said. “Not yet. Just trust me in this. Let me take care of you.”

  “I knew you were special to someone other than me,” she teased, and then Morgana rose up onto her toes and kissed him, and they shared the kiss of a man and woman who knew one another well. It was the kiss of lovers and partners, of friends and companions, of man and wife.

  The way she undressed him was gentle and insistent, and he took great care with removing her plain linen shift. They came together in a way that was inevitable and important, and he was able to temporarily dismiss all the problems of a country, all the pains of his mistakes.

  His flesh against hers, as they fell into the bed they shared, was a simple pleasure he had never before paid much mind. Morgana was different from other women. She was his. His wife. His empress. The last and only woman he would ever love.

  “I am no longer tired,” she said as she kissed his throat and her hands roamed wonderfully. “There was a moment this evening when I thought I would have to ask Iann to carry me up the stairs, I was so weary, and yet now I feel a burst of new energy. My heart swells and my body sings, all because you hold me. You are magical,” she whispered into his ear. “Your magic has changed my life. How did I ever live without you?”

  How did I ever live without you? Those words seemed more important and heartfelt than the oft-repeated “I love you.” The words touched Jahn in a way he had not expected, and in another way they hurt. He did not deserve Morgana’s love, not yet. He would, though. He would earn her love again and again, if he had to.

  He lost himself inside her, in a way he had come to need as much as air to breathe and water to drink. There was pleasure and more; there was joining and joy and shared release.

  They lay entwined for a while, breathing hard and barely moving, before Jahn spoke. “I swore to you that I would protect that which is mine,” he said.

  “You did.” Morgana ran her hand up his bare back, seeking connection even now.

  “I promise you now that you will never want for anything in this life. I will give you all that any woman might possibly desire, and you will never again think to seek employment of any kind. You will be my wife and the mother of my children. That is all the employment you will ever need.”

  “I only wanted to help . . .”

  “I will provide; you will make our home. Wherever it might be,” he added, wondering how she would like their quarters on Level Eight when he introduced them to her. They were much finer than this room, and were worlds away from a rustic room over a tavern, a room which had become their first happy home.

  As Morgana fell asleep in his arms, Jahn wondered . . . How forgiving was his empress? Was their love enough to overcome what he had done?

  KRISTO traveled well into the night, putting as many miles as possible between himself and the mercenaries he’d met with earlier in the day. They were ready for whatever might happen—Rikka had prepared them for every contingency.

  As it had in days past, his mind went to Lady Rikka, former empress and broken female. She would be dead by now, one way or another. Had she bled to death or had her assassin Trinity been able to exact his revenge? He did not know, and frankly did not care. Kristo was more concerned with what lay ahead than he was with what lay behind. Rikka was dead, and that was all that mattered. He would miss her hatred and her bitter need for vengeance, but it wasn’t as if he needed her. She’d done her part, and she’d done it very well.

  When he saw the palace rising in the moonlight, he smiled as he realized, for the first time, that his daughter was there. Not just in Arthes, not miles away waiting to be found, but in the palace itself. The knowledge came to him in a burst, clear and real and indisputable. He had worried for nothing. Lady Danya could be disposed of or dismissed, and Kristo would make his daughter empress and his grandson emperor. Emperor Jahn had done his best to keep peace, to amuse and pacify the people of his country, to keep the people happy and safe. What Kristo wanted, what his grandson would want, would be quite the opposite.

  Absolute power awaited.

  Without Rikka’s well-known name and political connections, gaining entrance to the palace would be a bit trickier for Kristo than he’d planned, but he did have Lady Danya to help him. The girl would do whatever he asked. There was no reason to tell her, just yet, that she wouldn’t be needed to fill the position of empress after all.

  RAINER positioned himself not too far from Lady Danya’s room, hiding in an alcove while she made her way down the wide hallway to retire for the evening.

  She looked older and more tired with every passing day. A face which had once been beautiful was turning haggard and lined, as if she were being drained from the inside by something dark and ugly. The woman he saw treat everyone with disregard and disdain was not the woman he had come to know on the long journey from her home to Arthes, and on evenings spent talking and sometimes crying here in this palace—before she had callously dismissed him from her life.

  Something was wrong. He should not care what bothered Lady Danya. She would make a totally unsuitable empress in so many ways. She was not pure of body or of heart, and she had not only not charmed the residents of the palace, she’d blatantly made enemies of many of them and simply annoyed the rest. If not for the tears she’d shed against his chest, if not for the handful of late-night conversations which revealed to him the real woman, he might think her cold and simply unpleasant, but something was wrong. Something was eating her alive from the inside out.

  He should not care what it was, but he did. Danya was more than she revealed to others, and she had touched his heart. After she closed her chamber door, Rainer exited the alcove and sat on the cold stone floor to lean against the wall, taking a position where he could see the door to her bedchamber. It was going to be a long night, but he could not leave her alone. Even if she did not know he was here . . . he would watch over her, the only way he knew how.

  JAHN was not happy to be called away in the middle of the night, but it wasn’t as if he could sleep. When Morgana had awakened and he’d ordered a large, hot meal delivered to their chambers, she had eaten ravenously and spoken with vigor about her day, almo
st halfheartedly mentioning that she’d seen Prince Alixandyr and a woman slip into the palace in secret. She was not supposed to tell anyone that she’d seen the prince, but that didn’t include her husband, she argued. She could not be expected to keep secrets from him.

  The prince was a rather rough-looking fellow, to hear her tell it.

  So, Alix was here somewhere, and he did not want anyone to know. Not yet.

  When Calvyno asked—through Blane—for a late-night meeting, not too long after Morgana had fallen asleep, Jahn did not argue that the minister could wait until morning. It wasn’t as if he could sleep. He took the hidden stairway from an adjoining room on the all but deserted Level Seven to his chambers on Level Eight, and with Calvyno and Father Braen discussed the choice which was still—or so they thought—to be made. With Princess Edlyn, the natural choice in their opinions, murdered, the young Lady Verity victim of a terrible accident, and the acceptable Lady Morgana refusing the invitation, the field had been narrowed to three. Lady Danya, whom no one considered acceptable, and two potential brides who had not yet arrived: Lady Belavalari and Lady Leyla.

  Jahn nodded often and tried to pay attention to their arguments for Belavalari and Leyla, should either of these women actually arrive. He was tempted to tell them that the new empress slept in this very palace—well loved, possibly with child, and ignorant of her position—but he did not. He would not tell them, or anyone else, before he informed Morgana of her good fortune. Would she consider her position good fortune? Or would she despise him for all the lies?

  They left him in a foul mood as he pondered the days ahead. He paced, he sat and stewed in his own confusion and anger, and he cursed—at times quite loudly.

  When there was a knock at his door, he was not surprised. Had Alix come to tell him he was home? Had Morgana found him?

  Was someone else dead?

  He was surprised to hear that his visitor was a “gift” from the king of Tryfyn, a woman, according to the sentinel. Jahn did not rise from his chair as he directed the nighttime caller to enter. He had no use for any woman other than Morgana, but this one might know something of Alix, and of the murder of Princess Edlyn. Perhaps she knew the truth.

  “King Bhaltair sent you?” he asked.

  “Yes.” The woman who walked into the room, as the sentinel closed the door behind her, was undeniably gorgeous and sensuous. She also matched Morgana’s quick but detailed description of the woman who had arrived this afternoon with Alix.

  Jahn maintained his calm, at least outwardly. “I have heard a distressing rumor that Princess Edlyn was murdered.”

  “I’m afraid that is true.” She had a lovely and strange accent.

  “I also heard that my brother, Prince Alixandyr, did the killing.”

  “That is not true.”

  The sheer force of the relief that struck Jahn was strong. The death of a princess was a terrible thing, but to think that his own brother had done the deed was more than he could bear. He had no reason to believe this woman over those who accused Alix, but he did. “Thank the gods. I knew he couldn’t do such a thing, but I have received word from more than one quarter that he did this unspeakable deed. Where is he? Do you know?”

  The woman hesitated a moment, and then she shook her head. She was not a very good liar.

  “You are Sanura, correct?” he asked.

  “I am. You have heard of me?”

  “The sentinel who just yesterday delivered word of the princess’s death told me that Alix escaped with a blue woman named Sanura. Though you are no longer blue, you do match the rest of his rather vivid description.” Yes, she was strikingly beautiful and sensuous, very much the goddess she had been described. “There are also at least two Tryfynian soldiers in Arthes who insist upon taking Alix’s head, as well as two very insistent wild men in residence who are adamant about killing Alix for touching you.”

  “Paki and Kontar are here?” she asked.

  “Yes. We’ve been doing our best to keep them occupied, but they remain quite insistent on killing my brother.” Women and drink would occupy them only for so long, he imagined. “I cannot allow that to happen.”

  “Don’t hurt them.” Sanura took a step toward him. Dressed seductively, bold in her actions . . . was she here to seduce him? “They’re only doing their duty.”

  A few months ago he would have gladly allowed this woman to seduce him, but no more. “To protect you,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “Where is Alix?” he asked again.

  “I told you, I do not know.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Sanura stopped while she was still a few feet away. “You know,” she whispered.

  “I know what?” Jahn snapped impatiently.

  Her eyes lit up. “You know about Alix’s struggle. At least—you suspect that something is not right with him.”

  Jahn fought to keep his face expressionless. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “The shadows, the dark battle, the tight control . . .”

  Unable to remain seated any longer, Jahn placed both hands on the arms of his chair and stood slowly. “You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

  “I know too well, I’m sad to say,” Sanura said. “For years a darkness has lived within Alix, wishing to rise and take power, to take control. His determination has kept that darkness deep within until I unknowingly unleashed that which Alix has fought all these years. What you do not know, what I have just come to understand, is that both parts, he who fought and he who tried to rise, are one and the same. Alix was fractured, but he is fractured no more.”

  “So you do know where he is.”

  “Yes.” Sanura reached into the folded fabric across her midsection and pulled out a dagger. “I came here to murder you.”

  Jahn knew there were those in the palace who had expected betrayal from the prince, had perhaps even desired it, for a long time. He had even known that there were dark moments when Alix had desired as much himself. “Did he send you?”

  “No,” Sanura said emphatically. “He plans to do the assassination himself, but I cannot allow that to happen. He will never recover from such a dark deed.”

  “Neither will I, I imagine,” Jahn said, hurt beyond belief to know that it had come to this. He pointed to the dagger. “What made you think you could kill me with that?”

  “My plan was simple. I would get close to you, promising all that I was meant to give, and when you were lost in desire, I would stab you through the heart.”

  “Ouch.” Jahn laid a hand over his heart. “Lucky for me I have enough womanly trouble at the moment and would not let you get so close.”

  Sanura tossed the knife onto the bed. “I am responsible for the change in Alix, though it was unknowing. I would never hurt him, never.” She looked boldly at Jahn, unflinching. “I love him.”

  “Enough to commit murder in his name?”

  She glanced at her weapon, which was now out of reach. Did she so soon regret tossing it aside?

  “Apparently not,” she said.

  “So, what now?” Jahn asked, losing what little was left of his patience. “Less than three months ago I set in motion a silly contest for the position of empress, and at this moment two of the candidates are dead, killed en route by accident or malicious intent; my brother is wanted dead by two burly, saber-wielding madmen and more than a handful of Tryfynian soldiers; Alix appears to have lost the battle he’s fought for so long; and I . . .”

  “You?” Sanura prodded.

  Jahn shook his head. “My own problems matter little, at the moment. Where is Alix? Is there any way to save him from this?” He tiredly ran a hand through his hair. “As if you would know.”

  “But I do know,” Sanura said. She stepped closer, and for a moment he wondered if she had hidden another knife in her form-fitting clothing. “You love Alix, and so do I. Together we can save him. Will you help me, My Lord Emperor?”

  After a moment of deliber
ation he asked, “What do you need?”

  Sanura sighed. “Time, m’lord. I need time.”

  “There are ten days remaining until the first night of the Summer Festival, ten short days until I will be obligated to make my choice.” Not even this woman, an unexpected ally, needed to know that his choice had already been made. “Will that be enough time?”

  “I hope so, m’lord. With all my heart, I hope so.”

  Chapter Eleven

  MORGANA woke with the sun, ready to face another dull and trying day in the palace laundry in spite of Jahn’s insistence that her time there was done. He’d said those things last night only because he didn’t like to see her tired. Her husband, however, had other ideas. He said he was due some time off, and he planned to spend the next few days with her. She argued with him, but just a little bit. In truth, she liked the idea of being nothing more than his wife and eventually mother to his children. They would get by, just as other sentinels and their families did.

  It was strange that he’d been given a raise in pay and a holiday at the same time, but she would not complain. She liked the idea of having Jahn to herself for a few days, and she did not for one minute question how they would spend that time. Food would be delivered to their door. They would spend most of that time without clothing, she suspected. They would laugh and love and plan for the future, and she would tell him again how much he meant to her.

  Over a lavish breakfast which had been delivered by a grumpy Iann, Jahn asked her how she wanted to spend her leisure time—when he was not available to entertain her. Did she wish for paper and pen so she could write poetry? Did she wish to take up painting? What about needlework? She punched him playfully in the arm when he had the nerve to mention needlework, after her days spent mending clothes. She didn’t care if she never saw a needle again as long as she lived!

  She wanted to tell him that she thought she might be with child, but she still wasn’t sure. She would be so horribly disappointed if she wasn’t, and so would Jahn, if she knew him at all. There was no reason to risk causing him pain. She would share the news when she was certain. Still, she found herself asking, as she reached for a piece of fruit, “Jahn, will we continue to live in this room once we have children?”