Bride By Command

by WINSTEAD JONES, LINDA

  “You don’t know me,” she snapped. “You don’t have any idea why I do the things I do.”

  “Then tell me,” he said, moving close and wrapping his arms around her. “Something is very wrong, I know that’s true, and yet you hide the truth from me the way you hide everything else. I want very much to share this bed, or another, with you, but not until you’re entirely mine. I won’t share you, Danya; I will never share you. When you’re mine, only mine . . .”

  “I can’t be yours!” Danya said, her mouth all but buried against his warm chest.

  “When you’re mine,” Angelo said again in a calmer voice, “then we will share everything.”

  Danya felt like she was falling apart, literally crumbling to pieces in this man’s arms. “If you don’t love me, if you don’t become my lover, he’ll make me kill you.” She shuddered. “I’ve done what I can to keep you alive, but if we’re not together, he’ll know. He knows everything,” she whispered, and then she grabbed Angelo and held on tight.

  “Who?” he asked sharply. “Who do you think could make you kill me?”

  Danya sobbed, and the truth broke loose. “The monster who has stolen my son.”

  LONG after the man who’d claimed to be her father had left her, Morgana stood silent and still at the window which overlooked the western fields. The moon shone on fields wet with the evening rain, alive with the coming of summer.

  She wished that she could dismiss the awful man as an impostor and a liar, but he knew too much. The man who called himself Kristo Stoyan knew why Morgana’s mother had been so insistent that her daughter be allowed to choose her own husband. He knew about the power Morgana had never wanted, and somehow—some way—he even realized that she’d killed a man with her anger. He hadn’t threatened outright to tell others about the death, but the threat had been there, gently undeniable.

  He also said that if she continued to work on control, as she had in days past, she would soon find other powers which would serve her well. Apparently Kristo could sometimes peek into the minds of others. Strong-willed people were tougher to read, he said, as were those who were close to him—like her. He saw flashes of the past and the future, and used his knowledge to his own advantage.

  She was so glad Kristo had not been able to reach into her mind. He would not have liked what he found there.

  He’d been anxious to tell her more about the power they shared, and Morgana had listened carefully—and she hadn’t liked what she’d heard. If she embraced the power and allowed it to come to its full strength, he’d said, she would one day be as cold as he was. Instead of a sliver at her core, she could be filled with the power and no one would be able to stop her.

  All her life Morgana had wondered and even dreamed about her real father, a man she’d been told was dead. She’d imagined how much better her life would’ve been if he’d lived, how much he would’ve loved her, how close she would’ve felt to him. He would’ve loved her unconditionally, he would not have made her do things she did not wish to do. Childish fantasies of a father she’d never known had taken root in her mind, and she’d not put them away as she grew to adulthood, as she should’ve.

  She’d always made a point of calling the man who’d raised her stepfather, as if she could not allow herself to think of him as a real parent, as if her real father would’ve been better, as if he would’ve loved her more.

  And now she knew without doubt that Almund Ramsden was her father in every way that counted. He’d loved her, cared for her, demanded that she behave like a lady and learn all she could. And in the end he’d given her to an emperor.

  He would never have asked of her what Kristo asked.

  Sensing her anger and disappointment with Jahn, realizing that she was a prisoner here, knowing that she had blood on her hands—and yet not sensing her regret, an emotion he apparently could not understand—Kristo believed the two of them shared a need for vengeance. Morgana had allowed him to continue to believe that as he’d laid out his plans. To deny him would only make him take immediate action, and she knew what kind of action he would take. Kristo would turn Jahn to stone without a second thought, and she could not allow that to happen. He would turn the sentinels who guarded her to stone, and though she had been angry with them since learning the truth, they were still her friends.

  She had not forgiven Jahn, but neither did she hate him. Hate was a poison; talking to Kristo for just a few minutes had proved that to her. She did not want to become like her real father—she didn’t want to let hate rule her life.

  Understanding what kind of man he was, she’d allowed Kristo to believe that she was willing and even anxious to go along with his plan. Any other choice would lead to disaster. It would lead to immediate madness.

  The child she had only suspected grew inside her was indeed real, if Kristo and his magic were correct. It was a boy, he said, an emperor who would share their powers. After she had held them in for so long, fighting for control as the day grew long, tears leaked from Morgana’s eyes. She did not want her child to share in her curse—she did not want him to struggle as she had.

  She placed a hand over her stomach, fingers splayed. No, her child would not struggle. He would be taught from an early age how to control the abilities which were a part of his birthright, just as becoming emperor was his birthright. He would be loved and cared for, always; he would be warm, not cold.

  But first, Morgana had to find a way to save her child’s father from the plans Kristo had set into motion.

  Chapter Fifteen

  IN spite of Jahn’s promise to Sanura to remain out of sight until the First Night of the Summer Festival, keeping his presence in the palace a secret turned out to be impossible. A message from Alix had found its way to Jahn, and he could not ignore it.

  Jahn waited in the ballroom for the appointed meeting with his brother, and he was not alone. Two Tryfynian soldiers, as well as the two guards from Claennis, anxiously watched the main entrance. All four of them were incensed by real or imagined wrongs, and anxious to do battle with Alix the moment they saw him.

  There were armed sentinels in the hallway outside that door, sentinels who would charge in at Jahn’s command. But at Alix’s request there were none in the ballroom. The prince apparently wanted privacy for whatever he had to say on this night.

  Jahn paid little attention to the massive main doorway the others watched so diligently, fully expecting his brother to join them by way of the hidden stairway which would allow him to move through the palace with some secrecy. Sure enough, after a short wait the inconspicuous doorway which was built into the wall at the back corner of the ballroom opened almost silently, and Alix appeared, his companion at his side.

  Sanura, the woman Jahn had spoken with just a few days earlier, was now painted a lovely shade of blue. The blue cosmetic clung to her skin quite naturally. Though Jahn had heard that this was sometimes the case, he was still taken aback at the sight.

  “Interesting,” he said as he took a moment to study the woman. He then turned his consideration to his brother, who looked rougher and decidedly more menacing than Jahn could ever remember. Alix had always been so careful with his appearance, so fastidious, so unerringly noble, but tonight he displayed a wild side which was unknown to Jahn. With others in attendance, now was not the time to comment on the changes he saw in his brother. “We are all here, just as you commanded. I understand you and I have some business to discuss, but why are these other men present?” Surely Alix knew that these men wanted him dead. They had all threatened to kill him, and if their claims were truthful, they had some right.

  Alix ignored Jahn and guided his blue woman toward the others. Both Tryfynian soldiers placed their hands on their swords, ready to fight the man they blamed for the death of their princess. Sanura’s guards looked as if they were anxious to rush Alix and take his head here and now, but they did not. Not for the first time, Jahn acknowledged that being emperor had its advantages. Bloodthirsty as they were, these men we
re afraid to act in his presence—and with good reason. No emperor would stand back and allow a man to take his twin’s life.

  “We’ll take care of the easy tasks first,” Alix said, walking toward the Tryfynians. He didn’t seem at all worried about the swords. Perhaps he knew, as Jahn did, that violence in this room would be incredibly foolish.

  “You morons,” Alix said darkly, a dangerous timbre Jahn was not accustomed to hearing in his voice. “I did not kill Princess Edlyn. She was an annoying little twit and I won’t miss her, but I did not kill her. It was Tari, who did the deed at Vyrn’s insistence. I suspect the same person who attempted to have Lady Verity murdered also planned the princess’s murder, as well as arranging the scene to make it look as if Sanura and I were guilty.” He glanced back, and his eyes caught Jahn’s. “Someone does not wish my brother to marry, or so it appears. Since only one potential bride has arrived, I would suggest that the others have had challenges and accidents, and perhaps even more deaths, along the way.” He turned away, once again glaring at the Tryfynians. “Besides, if I’d wanted the princess dead, I could have arranged some method of death which would not have pointed directly at me. I’m not an idiot.”

  The Tryfynian soldiers looked suitably humbled, their air of righteous indignation diminished. The hands on the grips of their swords fell away as they recognized the truth of Alix’s words. Jahn had not believed his brother capable of murder, but still, he felt a rush of relief at hearing the words from Alix’s own mouth.

  Alix turned to the men who claimed to be Sanura’s protectors. “I understand and appreciate that when you tried to kill me, you were only doing your duty,” he said, “but you must realize that you are no longer in Claennis, and you cannot murder a man for innocently touching a woman.”

  “Innocently?” one of the guards shouted.

  “In theory,” Alix said, “it doesn’t matter. Blue on a man’s skin means death, unless he is the one, the only one, who possesses Sanura.”

  “That is correct.”

  Alix reached out and quickly ran his hand across Sanura’s arm, and then he raked the blue stain from his hand onto his bare chest. When that was done, he moved quickly, perhaps realizing how the foreign men would react. With lightning-fast moves he disarmed one guard and then the other, tossing the weapons across the ballroom. The scream of metal against stone rang in Jahn’s ears before the swords came to a halt a good distance away in this cavernous chamber.

  Alix drew his own sword with strength and grace, and Jahn wondered if the man his brother had become would kill these unarmed men. He was certainly capable. But Alix did not swing his blade. His voice was a low rumble as he said, “If you cared at all about protecting Sanura, you would’ve used those weapons on the men who claimed to own her as if she were a pretty jewel or a strong horse. You would’ve used those blades to cut out the hearts of women who would rip her insides apart in the name of some damned man’s convenience. If you cared for her at all, you would not allow any man to own her!”

  The two unarmed guards took a step away from Alix, and Jahn couldn’t blame them. The man they faced looked capable of anything.

  “Go home,” Alix said, his sword remaining steady. “Sanura is now mine to protect. Be assured that if any other man ever touches her, I will do what you could not.”

  The guards both looked to the blue woman as if for direction, and she nodded. One of them foolishly made a move toward his weapon, which lay several feet away, but Alix stopped him. “Leave the swords. You don’t deserve them.”

  Without a word of argument, the two foreigners backed toward the Tryfynian soldiers and the doorway. Alix waved his sword in their direction, directing them all out of the room. He quickly closed the door behind them before he turned to face his brother.

  Jahn had the sinking feeling the night’s drama had just begun.

  “Now, on to our business.”

  To watch Alix take care of the Tryfynians and Sanura’s protectors had been fascinating and even amusing, but Jahn was not amused to have those dark eyes turned on him with such hatred. As he’d watched and listened to events unfold, his mind had occasionally wandered elsewhere, most often to the woman who so ardently refused to forgive him. He wanted Morgana to remain at his side the way Sanura remained with Alix. He wanted the close bond these two so obviously shared—though he did prefer the natural color of Morgana’s fair skin to anything so outrageous as Sanura’s blue.

  The bond Jahn desired, the loyalty Sanura showed to Alix, could not be forced or bought; it could not be decreed. Such a treasure could only be given. As emperor he could command much, but he could not command a woman’s forgiveness; he could not order Morgana to love him as she once had.

  Jahn waited calmly, wondering what was to come, realizing that anything was possible. He held Alix’s gaze steadily, and was surprised by the depth of the fierceness he saw there. Something within Alix had broken loose, just as Sanura had claimed. Jahn had to admit that he’d been foolish to believe that his brother’s struggles were behind him. Had this angry man always lurked behind the prince’s steady face?

  The brothers were surprised when Sanura placed herself between them, the dagger in her hand pointed at Alix’s heart very near to the place where he had stained himself with her blue paint. She whispered something Jahn could not hear, though he strained to catch her words.

  Alix responded, a cutting pain in his voice. “You would kill me to save him?”

  “No,” the blue woman replied. “But I would kill you to save you.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  Jahn sighed. None of it made any sense to him, either. His patience was at an end. “Cut my brother and I will kill you.”

  “I know,” Sanura said confidently and clearly. “I understand completely.”

  “I don’t,” Alix said. “I don’t understand this at all.” He took his gaze from Sanura and looked squarely at Jahn once again. “If she does manage to kill me, you will not harm her and you will not imprison her. Do you understand?”

  “Not at all,” Jahn mumbled. When it came to women, he understood nothing. That fact became clearer to him every day.

  Again, Sanura spoke softly, her words for Alix alone. Jahn could not understand—and perhaps he didn’t need to. The woman had spoken of releasing Alix’s dark side and of trying to contain it. At the moment, it appeared she was failing miserably when it came to containment. Her voice rose slightly and Jahn heard one statement very clearly.

  “You won’t survive if you murder your own brother.”

  “Let him go,” Jahn ordered with confidence. “Alix won’t hurt me. We’ve been through too much together. He’s my brother, for God’s sake. He’s my twin.” No matter what demons Alix battled, no matter what traitorous thoughts might’ve clouded his judgment, their brotherhood was stronger than any dark influence. Wasn’t it?

  “You’re a fool,” Alix said, for the moment paying no mind to the woman and the knife she held on him in such a threatening manner. All his attention was for Jahn, now, and the darkness, the hatred, was palpable. “I will kill you, if I get the chance. I will take the throne, this palace, everything you possess.”

  Jahn experienced a flash of anger, a rush of hurt, and all the frustration of the past days flooded through him. Apparently he’d been wrong to think that in the end brotherhood would mean more than ambition or hatred, as he had been wrong about so many other things. How had he gotten himself into this mess? He had gotten himself into it by starting the contest for empress, by lying to Morgana, by refusing to believe that his brother could ever be a threat.

  “Do you want the empress I’m supposed to pick?” he snapped, thinking of the one woman who had thus far arrived for his consideration—the intolerable Lady Danya. “Trust me, you can have her!”

  “I don’t . . .” Alix began, and then his words died away. For a moment he looked lost, confused, uncertain, and Jahn saw a hint of the man Alix had once been flicker across his face.

 
“Yes,” Sanura whispered.

  A moment later, Alix easily and fluidly moved the threatening dagger away from his flesh, as he could’ve done at any time. He pulled the blue woman into his arms and gasped as if the blade had found its mark. The expression on Alix’s face was one of pain and release and sorrow, and he seemed to fight for every breath. For a moment Jahn wondered if the blue woman had somehow poisoned the man she claimed to love, and then . . . everything changed.

  Sanura dropped the knife so that it clattered to the stone floor, and she jumped into Alix’s embrace, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. She laughed and cried, and together the two of them dropped to the floor, where Alix knelt with the woman caught in his arms.

  So, who was getting killed here tonight? Anyone? Jahn walked toward the entwined lovers. “I’m so fucking confused.” Did the blue woman intend to kill Alix or make love to him here and now? It was impossible to tell. “Is this woman yours?”

  “No,” Alix responded. “No one can possess something so bright and beautiful as Sanura. No one can own her. But I am hers, heart and soul. I belong to her in every way possible.”

  Jahn sighed. Good Lord, how sentimental his brother had become. A menace one minute, a softhearted fool the next. He half paid attention as the two declared their love for one another and Sanura made it clear that the darkness which had driven Alix to plan to take Jahn’s life would never be entirely gone—great—but was under control.

  And then, in a moment of clarity, Jahn realized what had happened. This change in the situation—the change in Alix—had not come out of nowhere, as it had appeared to. Alix and Sanura had communicated silently. There was no other explanation for what he’d just seen. They had shared minds, shared hearts perhaps, and the result was a startling change in the man who had apparently been considering—no, planning—to murder his brother and take the throne for himself.