Almund Ramsden had arrived in Arthes this very day and, to hear Calvyno tell it, was working diligently to gain an audience. Jahn had been able to avoid the man, as well as many others, but sooner or later he would have to face them all. What would he say to the man when they finally came face to face? Jahn was emperor and by law entitled to anything he desired, but Ramsden was a father, and he had rights of his own.
Lady Danya was the only one of the six women who was apparently unaffected by the events of the past three months. From what little he had seen of her, she already considered herself empress. Was she working with those who wished to take this country from him? Or was she simply lucky in avoiding whatever sad fate might’ve been planned for her? Tonight would be a shock for her, he imagined, since as far as she knew, she had no competition and would soon have the position she craved.
The door to his office burst open, and Jahn’s hand instinctively dropped to his sword. After all he had learned, he could not be unarmed when he faced what was to come. He relaxed when he saw Minister Calvyno and behind him General Merin, in the company of two women and a young man Jahn had never seen before. Since Merin had been sent to fetch one of the potential brides, at least one of these women must be Lady Belavalari. Judging by the ladies’ dress and attitude, it was clear which one was the barbarian.
“My Lord,” Calvyno said, paler than usual and obviously shaken. “These ladies are . . . dare I say it . . . potential brides for your consideration.”
Merin opened his mouth to say something but Calvyno continued.
“Rather, they would be potential brides if they had not already married.”
There followed a convoluted and almost amusing account, told in turn by all four newlyweds. What it came down to was that Merin had married Lady Belavalari, and his brother Savyn Leone had taken Lady Leyla—miraculously not at all dead—as his wife. The body found had been that of her chaperone, Calvyno explained. He was flustered and apologetic, but Jahn found himself amused for a blessedly peaceful moment.
Perhaps he had not ruined too many lives—other than his own—after all.
Of course, this night was not yet over.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Jahn said as he approached the weary travelers. “You will be needed for the ceremony which is soon to take place.”
Merin’s shoulders squared. “My Lord, in case you did not fully understand, Bela is my wife, and Lady Leyla is . . .”
“Yes, yes, you’re all happily and blissfully wed. That does not mean I cannot put you all to good use before the night is done.”
He had some explaining to do, he supposed. Judging by the confusion and even anger he saw on the faces around him, those explanations were going to take some time.
“Minister Calvyno,” Jahn said, turning to the weary man, “fetch us some wine.”
“Gladly, My Lord.” The man all but ran from the room, and Jahn wasn’t certain poor Calvyno would ever return. It didn’t really matter. It was possible he had all the help he needed right here before him.
“Ladies,” Jahn said in his most charming voice, “please sit and rest. I’m sure it’s been a tiring day.”
And it was about to get more tiring.
MORGANA allowed herself to be collected by two solemn sentinels and escorted to the noisy ballroom where soft music played and wine flowed. The grand chamber had been decorated with crimson banners and depictions of the sun in all its glory, bright and shining down upon them all, as well as a number of statues and statuettes of goddesses large with child. Morgana tried not to look too pointedly at those statues. She herself was not yet so large, but she would be, one day soon. She was no goddess, but she was—or would be—mother of an emperor.
Kristo kept his distance, but was never too far way. His eyes bored through her. She felt them, like daggers in her back. Did he know what she was going to do? What Jahn was going to do? She tried to tell herself that Kristo was only one man, that he could not destroy a country with his hate, but she knew in her heart that her father was much more than simply one man. He was an ambitious monster.
Jahn was not yet here, and she longed to see him. She needed to see him! Even though the ballroom was crowded and she could not see everyone, if Jahn was here, she would know. She would feel his presence, she was certain of it. Where was he? The ballroom swirled with color and light, with laughter and music, until Morgana felt dizzy as she searched for crimson and gold and distinctively streaked hair.
Her initial idea, when she’d told Jahn of Kristo’s plan, had been to lock the horrid man away. It was quite a risk, even if he could be spirited away quickly and imprisoned. Like her, he used his hands to direct his destruction, so if those hands could be quickly restrained, perhaps they could avoid disaster. Kristo could do too much damage in a short period of time, and that wasn’t even taking into consideration that he’d tell everyone about Tomas’s death. Worst of all, he’d tell Jahn. She had confessed many things to her husband as she relented to him, as she’d surrendered so much, but she had not been able to bring herself to tell him that she’d taken a life. That wasn’t necessary for what needed to be done. Perhaps it would never be necessary!
Jahn didn’t think locking Kristo Stoyan away would do them much good. First, they needed to know who was working with the traitor, how many and where they were. Getting one conspirator out of the picture would be only a temporary solution. No, they needed to unmask all those who worked with Kristo, preferably tonight. How else were they to move on?
When the crowd stirred and murmured, Morgana thought that perhaps Jahn had arrived. She turned, and saw with disappointment that it was a strange, tall man in official clothing who’d entered the room, escorting two women. One of them was a strikingly beautiful brunette who studied the crowd meekly, and the other was a pretty woman with chestnut hair in a long braid, a masculine manner of dress, and an attitude. She was not at all meek.
A lady dressed in gold and wearing a feathered mask loudly and drunkenly greeted the newly arrived man as Minister Calvyno. Calvyno spoke softly to the woman, and she shook her head. He spoke to several other people in the area, and got the same response. Finally, he found and spoke to Anrid. Morgana’s heart dropped. She had not seen Anrid or her friend Melusina before now, but they’d been here all along, lost in the crowd. Anrid smiled and pointed to Morgana, and when that was done, Calvyno caught Morgana’s eye and held it strongly. He waved her over, and after taking a deep breath Morgana headed that way. The crowd parted. It had begun.
Morgana was very aware that Kristo carefully watched her every move. One misstep, and he could use his power to cause the chaos he craved. He could turn a man to stone—or he could tell everyone what she had done on the last seasonal first night, and her life would be over as surely as if he had transformed and shattered her.
When she reached Calvyno, he gave her a tight smile. “I was so happy to hear of your belated arrival, Lady Morgana. These two ladies also arrived quite recently. Lady Belavalari and Lady Leyla,” he said with a casual and somehow distraught wave of his hand, “if you three will follow me.”
There was no time for introductions, and even if there had been, Morgana didn’t know what she would say. Keep your hands off my husband? You should’ve stayed far away from this place? Duck?
Calvyno led them all to the front of the room, where they were directed to a raised dais which was much too long for three women. Like horses at auction, they were to stand there, close but not too close together.
Morgana’s heart rate increased and her mouth went dry. This was not the plan. She and Lady Danya were to be the only ones here. Jahn would choose Morgana and she would refuse, which would spur Kristo into action. Only then would they know how deep this treachery went. Morgana looked out over the crowd, catching many a curious eye. There was no other way, she knew that, and still she was afraid. Jahn thought they would be able to handle whatever Kristo did, but she could not be certain. If Jahn choose her and she said yes, then there would be no violence here tonigh
t. They would have time to come up with another plan, to find another way to uncover the traitors.
While she stood upon the dais, fighting panic, the emperor arrived.
Morgana could only imagine that Jahn caused this kind of stir whenever he entered a room. People stepped aside. They bowed and curtseyed. They stared after him with awe and admiration and respect—and even fear. He was a powerful man. She had never been more aware of that fact than as he walked toward her. Since learning his true identity she’d seen him in his crimson robes, but tonight he was dressed differently—though the color of his clothing remained the same. Trousers fit snugly atop polished boots. A perfectly fitted jacket was adorned with gold thread and buttons. His golden crown and polished sword caught the light. He smiled, but it was not the true smile she knew and had come to love.
He studied all three of the women who awaited his arrival, but his eyes lingered only on her.
And then he turned to look out over the crowd. “You have all come here tonight to dance and eat fine food and drink wine and, oh yes, to watch me pick an empress from among a special half dozen who have been deemed worthy. Sadly, Princess Edlyn lost her life on the journey, and Lady Verity of Mirham ran off with one of my sentinels. I’m not sure if I should imprison the rascal who stole her or offer him a higher rank.”
There was a smattering of uncomfortable laughter.
“Still, I did say I would choose from six women, and I am a man of my word. Ladies?”
At that, Melusina and Anrid burst giggling from the crowd and took their positions on the dais. Morgana suffered a moment of pure horror. Had this been his plan all along? Was he going to publicly humiliate her? No, there was too much at stake. What was he doing?
Jahn turned and looked at each of the women in turn, then spun about. “Kristo Stoyan, I saw you here a moment ago. Where is your niece? It seems I am a bride short.”
Morgana held her breath as the man Jahn had called by name stepped from the crowd.
“My Lord, my niece is unwell and unable to leave her bed,” Kristo said.
“Impossible. Have her brought here immediately.”
She should not be surprised that Jahn was such a good actor. He showed no fear as he addressed Kristo; he revealed no anger at all, no hint of his knowledge. Yes, he pretended very well.
“Lady Danya is truly unsuitable and unable . . .” Kristo began, but he was interrupted by a weak voice which managed to carry through the crowd.
“I am here.”
The crowd parted once more, and a pale, disheveled woman who looked as if she’d just rolled from her bed was revealed. Deputy Rainer assisted her. It appeared as though without him she would surely drop to the floor, but she moved toward the dais with determination, her eyes unerringly forward.
The woman wore a plain gray dress that had seen better days, and her hair was simply pulled up and back. Her face was ashen, and she seemed decidedly unsteady.
“Lady Danya,” Jahn said with a curt bow. “So happy you could join us.”
Kristo was very obviously not happy to see Lady Danya.
DANYA walked toward the front of the ballroom, her eyes flitting from the women on the dais to the emperor she had once thought she’d desired above all to an enraged Kristo. She wanted to fly into the man who had stolen her dreams and effectively killed her son—or, rather, the memory of her son as he might’ve been, if he’d lived. But she could barely move, and without Angelo she would be no more than a heap on the floor, so she could only move forward slowly, one small step at a time. She clung to Angelo; he held her firmly.
When she’d awakened in her bed to see the darkness of night beyond her window and Angelo at her side, she’d immediately known what she had to do. After taking the time to comb her hair back and change into one of the simple dresses she’d brought from home—taking the time to tuck Angelo’s handkerchief in her bodice—she’d made her way here, to this fateful place and night. And she’d arrived just in time.
Angelo placed his mouth close to her ear. “Something is going on here. The energy is . . . interesting, and dangerous.”
“Much is going on, I imagine.” She looked at Kristo, the man who had all but killed her hours earlier.
“No, something else,” Angelo said. “Don’t confront Kristo. Not yet.”
“But . . .”
“Not yet, love. Trust me.”
She did. She trusted Angelo Rainer with her secrets, her weaknesses, her very life. “Fine. I suppose I should join the others.”
There had been a time when she’d considered these women to be her rivals, threats who might take from her the extravagant life she’d imagined for herself. A life of privilege, of power. A life where she’d be given all she desired; and, more important, a life where she could escape the mistakes of her past.
Until she’d met Angelo, she had never even considered that she might deserve and want love. He helped her to the raised platform where five other women stood, and he held her hand until she was steady. Only when she nodded her head did he let her go. Rumpled, light-headed, angry to the pit of her soul, she stood there and waited. Kristo, the hooded man who had ruined her heart and ripped apart her soul, looked confused, then relieved. He obviously thought her so foolish as to think she still had a chance to claim the position of empress.
Let him think what he would, for now.
JAHN tried to appear nonchalant as he glanced about the ballroom. Those who were with him on this night were in place. When Kristo was denied, what would he do? He, General Merin, and a few others carried lengths of rope with which to bind Kristo’s hands when the time came. Would that be enough to stop Kristo’s destructive power? Morgana said he used his hands to direct his cold ruin, but that didn’t mean binding them would stop it. Who would the man call forth, and how many would come to his aid? Were there traitors among the revelers, or were the revolutionaries awaiting a call from somewhere outside this room? Where was General Hydd, who had suggested Morgana as empress?
Merin stood in one corner of the room; his brother Savyn was positioned in another. Blane and Iann had the door, and other sentinels whose loyalty was beyond question were posted about the ballroom—and beyond.
When Jahn had found out that two of the potential brides were present—married or not—he’d come up with this new, better plan of attack. It was a plan that did not put Morgana in the middle of the action; it was a plan which would turn Kristo Stoyan’s anger away from her.
He jumped onto the dais and walked behind the six women who were on display. He felt ashamed and equally annoyed that his plan had called them here months ago, when he had not considered them human beings, when he had not thought of them as fine women with feelings, but saw them only as necessary brood cows for the heir he was required to produce.
But he could show no shame now. Melusina and Anrid stood together at one end of the platform, each of them smiling widely and occasionally waving at their new husbands. Their bosoms were not as exposed as he was accustomed to, and yet they were far from prim ladies. “Beautiful as always,” he said, leaning in close. Melusina giggled. “Would you make fine wives?”
“You should know, My Lord, since you recently made us wives of other men,” Anrid said casually.
Jahn waved a hand. “Marriage can be undone as easily as it is done. I probably should’ve wed you two long ago, when I realized a wife would be required.”
“Both of us?” Melusina asked.
“I could not bear to separate you.”
“I rather like my new husband,” Anrid said, as if a ballroom full of people didn’t listen in.
“And I like mine!” Melusina said.
“I’m not sure that we would have you now,” Anrid added with another wave to her husband, who shyly waved back.
“Pity,” Jahn said as he moved down the line. There was a smattering of uncomfortable laughter in the ballroom, where masks had been lowered and the dancing had stilled.
Lady Belavalari—Bela, Merin had called
her—looked none too pleased, even though she knew the plan well enough and did not consider herself in danger of being chosen as empress. “You look like a woman who can hold her own in any situation.” He glanced at Merin, who did not smile. At all. “Do you know how to use that sword, Bela?”
“Yes, My Lord, I do,” she answered in a strong and steady voice. “Would you like a demonstration?”
“Not really.” He studied her muddied boots and messy braid. “Interesting,” he muttered as he moved to Lady Leyla.
As Jahn studied the stunning woman who had married Savyn Leone, he did not let on that he knew her secrets. Witch, some called her, and knowing what she could do with a touch, he might call her the same. Then again, what was he to call Morgana if he called this lady a witch? They had both been born with unearthly powers. Did that make them witches or goddesses? Unnatural women or the most natural of females who called power from the earth and the sky?
“You’re a fetching woman,” he said.
“Thank you, My Lord,” she responded meekly.
“The goddesses who are with child as the summer season of the sun begins are likely jealous of such beauty. Would I dare to insult them by taking a wife who would challenge their beauty?”
“I am only a woman, My Lord,” Lady Leyla responded.
Jahn shook his head. “Why do I doubt that simple statement?” Then he moved to his wife. “Lady Morgana. I imagine everyone here knows that you refused my initial invitation to participate in this contest.”
“I did,” she responded.
“Why?”
“I refused because I had heard that you were gluttonous and foolish and irresponsible and likely quite portly. I was also under the impression that you had no chin.”
“Don’t forget stupid. And now that you have met me?”
“You are not portly,” she said simply.
Again there was uncomfortable laughter throughout the room.
“You would be a troublesome empress, I have no doubt.”
Bride By Command Page 29
