Bride By Command

Home > Other > Bride By Command > Page 20
Bride By Command Page 20

by WINSTEAD JONES, LINDA


  He looked taken aback. “Are you . . .”

  “Not to my knowing, but I have been thinking . . . it’s bound to happen soon.”

  “I don’t think we will still be here when the time comes.”

  “Why not?”

  “Things change,” he said cryptically. “I do promise you that you and our children will be well taken care of, always.”

  “I never doubted that.”

  Morgana smoothly moved into his lap. “I don’t want to live here when we have children,” she said. “I want a small house with a garden, and a grassy place where the children can play in the sunshine. I want my own kitchen, and I will learn to cook and to do my own laundry. I don’t want sentinels outside my door at all hours of the night and day, or an escort every time I go to the market.” She smiled. “I will be the mistress of my own house, our own palace, no matter how small it might be. I don’t want to share our lives and our home with an emperor who once dared to command me to present myself for his inspection.” She huffed in indignation at the memory.

  “We did just get here,” Jahn argued, and he looked slightly pained, a bit annoyed. Did he not want the same things she did?

  “And we don’t have to move out immediately, but”—she draped her arms around his neck—“think about it.”

  “I love you, Ana.”

  “And I love you,” she said, still surprised by how easily the words she had never even dreamed to speak came to her.

  She was perfectly, completely happy with this life she had never known was possible for her. Her curse was warmed and gone; her husband loved her; she would give him a child—and then more, in years to come. She no longer thought concealing her curse to be a lie, since it was gone. Entirely, wonderfully gone.

  DANYA had not been awake very long when there was a knock on her door. She answered sharply, and one of the many servants who saw to her needs walked into the room.

  The girl did not smile. No one did, not at Danya. “My Lady, your uncle has come calling. He insists on seeing you right away.”

  “My uncle?” Danya asked impatiently.

  “He says you should be expecting his arrival,” the girl said.

  Danya felt a chill walk up her spine. It was him. It was the hooded man, come to demand her alliance in return for her son’s safety. He was here to give her what she wanted, the position of empress, and at the same time offer safety to the child she’d believed buried long ago. There would be a price, though. He had been very clear about that part of the bargain.

  “Should I show him in?” the girl asked, when Danya did not immediately respond.

  “Yes,” Danya said in an emotionless voice. “Have my uncle escorted to the anteroom and inform him that I will join him shortly.”

  She needed to dress, to make herself pretty, to steel her spine. Meeting the cold hooded man again would not be an easy task.

  “For Ethyn,” Danya whispered when the maid was gone.

  She took her time getting ready, even though she knew the hooded man would not count patience among his qualities. More than once her mind went to Angelo and the way he had comforted her without expecting any comfort in return. She thought about the solace he had offered, and how his brief but precious friendship might’ve saved her sanity. It had been a weakness to claim that easy time with him. More than once she had thought about telling him everything and asking for his help, but that wasn’t possible. Not only would such a weakness endanger Ethyn’s life, it would also endanger Angelo’s. It was best to let go of silly notions of being saved and concentrate on pleasing the cold man she had made her ally. And still, she tucked his handkerchief into her bodice, and it gave her strength.

  When she was prepared, physically and mentally, Danya made the short trip from her bedchamber to the adjoining room, where she might have taken visitors if she had made a point of making friends. She had never seen the hooded man’s face, and at first she did not think the ordinary-looking man sitting upon the sparest chair in her anteroom could possibly be the monster she knew. Perhaps this was someone who worked with the hooded man, someone who did his bidding as she did. And then her visitor lifted his head and his eyes met hers, and she almost fainted from the rush of evil that emanated from him. Reddish brown hair and pleasant appearance aside, there was no mistake that this was the hooded man.

  “You test my patience,” he said crisply.

  “An empress is allowed to make others wait for her. Even you,” Danya said more bravely than she’d imagined she could.

  The man smiled, and Danya trembled. “What am I to call you?” she asked, adding in an insolent tone, “Uncle.”

  “Uncle Kristo,” he said, rising slowly. Standing, he did not seem so small. “Kristo Stoyan, your mother’s younger brother, if anyone asks. And yes, that is my real name, in case you’re wondering. I expect you will make the proper introductions as soon as possible. It is only right that a representative of your family be here when you’re chosen empress, after all.”

  “How is Ethyn?” she asked.

  “Well, at last report,” Kristo Stoyan responded.

  “When I am empress, you will have him brought to me?” She should not reveal such longing, she should not let this horrible man know how she felt, but she could not help herself. She wanted to touch Ethyn’s cheek and hear his heartbeat against her ear and make him laugh. She wanted to hold him in her arms. Any sacrifice was worthwhile if it meant he would be safe.

  “Yes. But first, we have business to tend to,” Kristo said as he took a terrifying step toward Danya. “There is a lady in the palace I must speak to most urgently. Her name is Lady Morgana Ramsden.”

  “She’s the one who refused the emperor’s offer, is she not?”

  “Yes, she has apparently refused, but she’s here in the palace. Somewhere,” he added in a less than tolerant voice.

  “What are you going to do to her?”

  “Trust me, you do not want to know.”

  “I haven’t met Lady Morgana,” Danya said honestly. “I had no idea she was here in the palace.” She wondered where the lady, her competition, might be. Lady Morgana had not made herself known at any of the palace functions or meals, and everyone had been talking about how she’d refused the emperor’s summons, so if she was here, there would be gossip. “I don’t believe she’s here at all.”

  Kristo didn’t like that answer. “If I find out you’re lying to me . . .”

  “I have promised to do anything to save my son, and I will keep my end of the bargain,” Danya said. “That has not changed. I don’t care what you do to Lady Morgana in order to get her out of our way.” Her heart leapt. “What does she look like?”

  Kristo furrowed his brow. “I’m not sure. Blonde like her mother, I think. Pretty, certainly, given her parentage.”

  “I hate to tell you this, but pretty and blonde does not narrow the field much. The palace is filled with ministers’ wives and daughters and more distant relatives, as well as a number of women who seem to be here strictly for more pleasurable pursuits. If the woman you seek is not using her real name . . .”

  “Why would she not use her real name?” Kristo snapped.

  “I don’t know! But if she refused the emperor and yet is, for some reason, here, it makes some sense, does it not?”

  He smiled at her, and she wished he had not. “Of course. You’re very clever, Lady Danya.”

  “Empresses should be clever, don’t you think?”

  She turned her back on him so she would not have to witness that awful grin for a moment longer, and that was a mistake. He crept up on her soundlessly, and before she could prepare herself, he placed a stilling hand on her shoulder. “You’re prettier than you were when I saw you last,” he whispered, his breath on her neck as cold as she remembered.

  She knew that was not true.

  His hand snaked over her shoulder, and icy fingers brushed the swell of her bosom. If those fingers dipped beneath the fabric, they would touch the plain linen of An
gelo’s handkerchief. “I imagine you’re missing your lover by now. It’s been a long time for you, hasn’t it?”

  Danya gathered every ounce of strength she possessed to step away from the cold man. “Don’t touch me,” she commanded, taking him by surprise. She turned to face him. “We have a common purpose, and I will do what you ask in order to win the position of empress. But you are not to touch me again, is that understood?”

  He seemed amused by her command. “If that is what you wish. However, if ever you change your mind . . .”

  “I will not.”

  He gave her an exaggerated bow. “At your service, My Lady, in whatever manner you choose. Or don’t.” When he looked her squarely in the face again, his eyes were stone cold. “Demand that I be given quarters in the palace until the Summer Festival arrives and the emperor makes his choice. Introduce me to everyone you know as your beloved Uncle Kristo.” His hand snapped up and he grasped her throat, much as Ennis had once done. Angelo wasn’t here to save her this time; she’d sent him away. “And find Lady Morgana.”

  IT was easy enough to pretend to be away from the palace, in order to give Sanura the time she required. Even with all that needed to be done, those who served the emperor would believe that he’d gone on an extended hunting trip. Jahn was not at all opposed to the idea of spending a few more days as nothing more than Morgana’s husband. They could laugh, they could sleep and make love. The scene was warmly domestic and ordinary and he loved it, for the short amount of time it actually lasted.

  Late in the afternoon they were interrupted by a knock on the door of their Level Seven bedchamber. Blane was apologetic, but Minister Calvyno insisted that Jahn’s presence was necessary, and the savvy minister, having seen the emperor’s favorite sentinels on duty, rather than out of the palace with the man they so loyally served, knew something was afoot.

  Jahn’s annoyance at being called from his bedchamber and his wife to deal with matters of his station changed to alarm when he heard the news. Lady Verity of Mirham was alive, but she had barely survived an attempt on her life—an attempt made by the man Jahn had sent to collect her.

  First Princess Edlyn and now this. His initial seemingly unnecessary concern was validated. Someone was killing, or was attempting to kill, the bridal candidates. Jahn saw that those responsible for the murder attempt were imprisoned. The idiots had believed themselves successful and were living in the palace, eating and drinking and enjoying the life of those blessed to be in the court. Sentinels were sent south and east to meet and warn those who had not yet returned—if they had survived thus far.

  Minister Calvyno was most distressed that Lady Verity had chosen to leave the palace as the intended bride of the sentinel who had saved her life, but Jahn cared nothing for that detail. There was now one less woman to send away rejected, when the time came.

  At this rate, Lady Danya would be the only woman rejected! He would not be sorry to see her leave. Neither would anyone else, from all that he saw and heard. She was an unpleasant and inappropriate woman, but he had not sensed evil in her. Still, was it possible that she was somehow involved in the misfortune of her competition?

  It was late in the evening before he was able to climb the stairs to Level Seven and Morgana, whom he’d left alone for too many hours after his promise that they would have some time alone. Jahn had changed from the emperor’s crimson robes to the green uniform which he wore in his disguise as a common sentinel and husband. He was leading two lives, one filled with power and responsibility, the other simpler and happier. Could he combine the two well when the time came? Would Morgana accept him as emperor as she had accepted him as sentinel?

  There were two sentinels at Morgana’s doorway on this night, two guards who snapped to attention when Jahn appeared with two other sentinels behind him. The stairwell had been deserted, as the palace was quiet this late at night. Morgana would be asleep, he supposed. He wondered if he should wake her.

  As he reached for the door latch, Iann said, in an ominously lowered voice, “My Lord, your lady has visitors. You might wish to wait until they depart.”

  “At this hour? Who . . .” Before he could finish, a familiar laugh drifted through the doorway. “Melusina?” he asked, horrified.

  “And the other, Mistress Anrid,” Iann said. “Apparently they have sought out your lady for more beauty advice with which to impress their new husbands.”

  “Collect me when they’re gone.” Jahn turned on his heel to escape, but it was too late. A woman’s voice sounded closer on the other side of the door, and the latch clicked as it was turned. The door opened, and a seductive voice called a delighted, “My Lord Emperor, how lovely! Have you come here looking for us?” With that Anrid grasped Jahn’s shirtsleeve and pulled him into the room.

  EVEN though they had discussed visiting just a few days earlier, Morgana had been surprised when Melusina and Anrid had shown up at her door. They were newly married and happier than they’d thought they’d be with their husbands, and they were also anxious for more beauty and fashion help from Ana Devlyn.

  Strangely enough, Morgana had enjoyed their company more and more as the night wore on. Perhaps these ladies were very different from her, but she liked them. They were bright and funny, and they laughed well and often. Without the low-cut bodices and face paint which had once marked them as loose women, they looked like many of the ladies Morgana had known throughout her life—though these two were much more open and honest about their lives. In fact, they were honest to a fault.

  Morgana could not be so open. She really didn’t want to share with these two what she and her husband did when they were alone. Comparing sizes—length and girth—of penises, as well as staying power and special erotic tricks, was a conversation Morgana did not participate in. She could not help but listen, though.

  When Anrid heard whispers outside the door, late at night, she jumped from the edge of the bed and ran. “I’d like a look at this husband of yours,” she said, as she opened the door and then gasped in surprise. “My Lord Emperor, how lovely! Have you come here looking for us?” She reached into the hallway and pulled Jahn inside.

  Morgana sat on the opposite edge of the bed and Melusina remained in the chair by the window.

  “If you’ve come looking for us, My Lord, you’re much too late,” Melusina said almost coolly. “You’ve married us off and we are no longer available for late-night parties of your sort.”

  “We should be faithful for at least a few months, don’t you think?” Anrid said as Jahn shook free of her grasp.

  “Perhaps come fall he will be tired of his empress and we will be tired of our husbands, and then we can renew our relationships,” Melusina suggested.

  Morgana stood. What kind of joke was this? Had she misheard Anrid’s greeting? “I thought you didn’t know Jahn.”

  “Your Jahn Devlyn, no,” Anrid said, “But this is . . .”

  Jahn interrupted her tersely, his eyes never leaving Morgana. “That’s enough. Go. Your husbands will be missing you, I imagine.”

  “Still determined to be faithful, I see,” Melusina said as she stood. “How annoying and . . .”

  “Don’t you see, it’s him!” Anrid said. “They are one and the same, that Jahn and this Jahn. Oh, my, I did not expect this at all.”

  “Go!” Jahn commanded in a stern voice Morgana had never heard before.

  Melusina and Anrid scurried toward the door, which remained open. Jahn turned to his friend Iann. “See that they are escorted from the palace and taken safely home. They should not be out so late.”

  “Yes, My Lord,” Iann said, and then the sentinel blushed as he looked at Morgana.

  A tiny sliver of ice formed around Morgana’s heart as the door closed behind Melusina and Anrid.

  “Why did he call you, My Lord?” she asked, though in her heart she knew. She should’ve known all along, but she had allowed herself to remain blind. “Why did Anrid call you emperor?”

  “Ana, I have tried
to tell you a thousand times . . .”

  “Jahn,” she whispered. “A common enough name, as you said. A name you share with the emperor.” They are one and the same, that Jahn and this Jahn.

  The men who were always so accommodating were not Jahn’s friends, they were his sentinels. His servants.

  Melusina and Anrid, who had been so happy to see Jahn even though they had always said they knew of no Jahn Devlyn in the palace, apparently knew him very well.

  The escort she always had to and from the laundry was no accident.

  They had been given these fine quarters in the palace, though it was clear none of the other sentinels had such privileges.

  The way her stepfather had sent her away, even that made sense, if he knew exactly to whom he’d been giving his daughter.

  An iciness grew, shooting through her midsection. It swelled at an alarming rate, even faster than on the night she had taken a life. One moment there was a seed of ice, the next she was consumed by it. It took over her heart, her breath, it raced through her veins. She did not know how to stop what had taken hold of her; she did not know if she could. “You are Emperor Jahn,” she said.

  “Yes, but . . .”

  “Dressed like a sentinel, having a bit of fun, enjoying a charade before you settle down to a life of wedded bliss.”

  “In the beginning I did not intend . . .”

  “Get out,” she said, as calmly as possible.

  “Let me explain.”

  There was no time for explanations. She couldn’t stop what had begun. The curse she’d thought gone had been quiet for a long time, but it would be quiet no more. She could not control it; she could not stop what was coming. Heavens, even her eyes felt cold. “No, get out of this room. Get out now!” she screamed.

 

‹ Prev