Consort (Beyond Ontariese 6)

by Cyndi Friberg

  “No one will be surprised if Indric moves you into the palace. We can use the public’s misconception to protect Betaul’s anonymity.” Drakkin looked deep into her eyes as he went on, “You will not be able to correct the misconception without compromising your cover. In fact, it would be wise to display affection in public, leave others no reason to doubt the conclusion they’ve drawn. Do you have a problem with people believing you’re sleeping with a king?”

  She swallowed hard and dropped her gaze to her hands. The only problem she had was that she wished it was more than a rumor. “Anything that keeps Betaul safe is fine with me.” Indric made an odd sound, part sigh, part growl and she looked at him. “Would you rather devise a different cover story? I’m open to suggestions.”

  His intense gaze searched hers for a long, silent moment then he shook his head. “The rumor has circulated for too long already. No one would believe us if we deny it now.”

  “I’m sorry. I should have realized this was reflecting badly on you.” Drakkin chuckled and she glared at him. “It’s not funny. Indric has been very kind to me. I should have realized people would think the worst of us.”

  Drakkin looked at Indric, amusement clear in his red-ringed eyes. “And you have your answer, my friend. Your ‘mistress’ is adorably naïve. Proceed accordingly.”

  “Fine. I’m naïve.” Cinarra crossed her arms over her chest and scooted away from Indric. They didn’t need to make her feel like an idiot simply because she’d lived a “compartmentalized” life. “Can we please move on? Why did you bring up Charlotte’s celebration?”

  “I think the wisest course at this point is to proceed as if nothing happened,” Drakkin told her. “The security measures here failed, so we must move you to a new location, but a cover story is already in place to explain your presence at Indric’s palace.”

  And in Indric’s bed. The naughty thought sent heat cascading from her chest to her abdomen. If only… “So we move to the palace. Then what?”

  “We spend time together and reinforce the illusion that we’re lovers.” Indric’s voice sounded tight and rough, but she couldn’t interpret his expression. “Then I escort you to the gala on Ontariese and introduce you to some of my friends. That way if you choose to visit them at some point in the future, we’ve established a connection that has nothing to do with Betaul’s true identity.”

  “That makes sense.” She sighed. Spending time with him was always pleasant, but touching him and being touched by him would be torturous if it was only to reinforce an illusion. “Charlotte and I speak frequently on the metaphysical plane, but it will be wonderful to see her in person for a change.”

  “Then it’s settled.” Drakkin pushed to his feet. “I’ll leave the details to you.”

  “What about Dravon?” Indric asked, standing as well. “Would it be wiser to send him home? There is a slim possibility that he was the target.”

  “Let’s leave things as they are for now. I’ll let Givon know what happened and that we’re exploring every possibility.”

  Givon was Drakkin’s oldest son, Dravon’s father, and current king of the mountain region of Hautell. Cinarra had never met him, but his reputation as a wise leader and devoted family man was impressive.

  “I appreciate your assistance. As always.” They clasped arms, Drakkin smiled at Cinarra, and then flashed out of sight.

  Still stinging from all the talk about her naïveté, Cinarra stood and tried to brush past Indric. He caught her elbow and pulled her around to face him.

  Tension moved across his features and the rings in his eyes gleamed. “Do you honestly believe that’s all this is? Obligation?”

  Her heart leapt in her breast and heat crept up along her neck. In the beginning she’d allowed herself to imagine that he cared for her, felt more than rudimentary responsibility for her and Betaul. But the fantasy only shined a light on her isolation and made her feel even lonelier.

  “We’re friends.” When that didn’t seem to please him, she said, “Good friends.”

  He shifted his hands to her upper arms as if he couldn’t decide if he wanted to kiss her or shake some sense into her. “I’ve wanted you since the first day I saw you. Never doubt my desire.”

  “But you never… Why wait until now to let me know?”

  “When Drakkin brought you here, you were traumatized and confused.” His fingers gradually relaxed and he sighed. “And I had a wife.”

  “I could never trust a man who would cheat on his wife. I’m glad you didn’t betray your vows to Talya.”

  His arm closed around her and he pushed one of his hands into her hair, splaying his fingers against the back of her head. “Talya no longer stands between us, so I’ll make this perfectly clear. I’m tired of pretending you’re my mistress. It’s my intention to court you.”

  Before she could react to the shocking claim, his mouth covered hers, the kiss firm yet patient. His lips caressed hers, coxed and seduced as he deepened the kiss. Her head spun and her body melted into the embrace. This couldn’t be happening. She must have slipped into a fevered dream.

  His tongue eased past her lips and explored the interior of her mouth, determined yet tender. He tilted his head, fitting his mouth more comfortably over hers. She concentrated on the sensual slide of his tongue against and around hers, savoring his scent with each deep breath.

  He pulled back with obvious reluctance and looked into her eyes. “If you don’t have feelings for me, tell me now. It will not compromise our friendship.”

  Her self-consciousness returned as the sensual haze faded and he lowered his hands to his sides. A relationship with Indric would be complicated and amazing, but she was scarred and broken. He knew she was a refugee, that she’d been held prisoner most of her life, but he had no idea all she’d suffered or the extraordinary lengths that had been necessary for her escape. She wasn’t even sure she was capable of trusting someone enough to open her heart. Indric deserved more than she’d ever be able to give him.

  “This is so sudden.” She touched her lips with her fingertips, amazed by the emotions he’d unleashed with a single kiss. “I don’t know what to think.”

  “I didn’t ask what you thought. I asked what you felt. It’s a simple question really. Do you feel more than friendship for me?”

  “Yes. But I’m not sure—”

  Indric placed two fingers against her lips and smiled. “I’m not asking for your answer now. I’m informing you of my intention to court you. We’ll explore the possibilities together.”

  She turned her head to the side, dislodging his fingers. “There are things you don’t know about me, things your people would never accept.”

  “If I can accept these things, so can my people.” His tone brooked no argument, then his expression softened and he added, “I’ve known you for nine cycles. What deep, dark secrets could you possibly harbor?”

  She swallowed hard. He had no idea. He knew there were forces on Ontariese determined to destroy her and Betaul. But unless Lord Drakkin had told Indric the details of her escape, there were still all sorts of damning facts Indric didn’t know.

  Rather than risk snuffing out this romantic spark before it had a chance to catch flame, she tried a subtle approach. “You’ve visited me for nine cycles; that much is true. But our conversations have always been polite and superficial. We really don’t know each other that well.”

  “Deepening our acquaintance and testing our compatibility is what courting is all about.” His hands gently stroked her bare arms, keeping her senses humming. “If you decide this is not what you want, you’re free to walk away at any time.”

  “And if I don’t want to be ‘courted’ by a king?”

  A sexy smile parted his lips and he swooped down for another kiss. “Then I’ll persuade you.” He whispered the claim against her lips then released her and stepped back. “Preparations must be made for you and Betaul. I shouldn’t be gone long. Ametto has already called in reinforcements, so you’ll
be safe as long as you stay inside the house. Let Betaul sleep for a couple of hours. I’ll return at dusk with an armed escort to transport you and the boys to the palace.”

  All she could manage was a stiff nod as he kissed her hand and then flashed out of sight.

  Chapter Two

  Cinarra stood in the middle of her living room unable to move, barely able to think. The King of San Adrin had just informed her of his intention to court her. She wasn’t even sure exactly what that meant. Was he hoping she’d be his mistress or his— No, he couldn’t want more than an affair. Desire and affection were seldom deciding factors when a king chose his mate.

  How had this happened? Indric had never indicated a sexual attraction to her, never stepped out of his role as gracious host and trusted friend.

  The floor creaked, drawing her attention to the stairs just visible through a wide archway. Tall and brawny, bald head gleaming like polished mahogany, Ametto descended from the upper level of the house.

  “Is something wrong?” She gave herself a firm mental shake. She couldn’t afford to be distracted as long as the assailant was still out there. Not only were Bataul and she at risk, Prince Dravon was her responsibility as long as he was under her roof.

  “Not at all,” Ametto assured her. “Bataul’s asleep and Dravon is entertaining himself with a hologame. I’m going to do a quick perimeter sweep, make sure the new team is positioned as I instructed them. Is there something you need?”

  “No. Thanks for asking. I think I’ll rest for a few minutes, collect myself before I start packing. King Indric and Lord Drakkin are determined to move us to the palace.”

  “Sounds like a good idea, Madam Mazodie.” He always smiled when he said her assumed name. Mazodie was the ancient Ontarian word for monarch and Ametto was the only one of the guards who understood the irony. The others, like the public at large, presumed she was Indric’s mistress rather than Ontarian royalty.

  She climbed the stairs and went to her bedroom. Betaul’s signal was muted, as it always was when he slept, but she found comfort in the familiar pulse of his unique energy. She crossed to the bed and sat, feeling muddled and unsure. Why did her life have to be so complicated?

  With a frustrated sigh, she rubbed her eyes. A hint of Indric’s cologne lingered on her skin, warm and spicy, drawing her back into the pleasure of their kiss. She’d been blindsided by his declaration, totally unprepared for his sudden advance. When her thoughts were this chaotic, the only hope she had for sorting through them was to talk it out with her sister, Charlotte. Besides, Charlotte would want to know about the attack on Betaul.

  Calming her spirit with several slow breaths, Cinarra summoned the metaphysical plane. The majority of her abilities no longer required visualization. She could heal and “see” without benefit of the metaphysical realm, but Charlotte was on a different planet. Cinarra focused inward, blocking out each of her senses until she hung suspended in tranquil emptiness. She lingered a moment, allowing the darkness to caress and calm her. Then she slowly opened her mind and formed her surroundings.

  Vivid blue with fluffy white clouds, Earth’s sky arched high above her. Life in Operation Hydra had been regimented and filled with horror, but it was all she’d known for the majority of her life. That’s where she’d given birth to her twins, Krysta and Belle, and watched them grow into extraordinary young women.

  She pictured herself sitting on the grassy hillside overlooking the domed Center. Mountains rose all around her, creating the wide valley in which the Center had been built. In reality, the complex had been destroyed and the occupants freed. Still, she used the image as an anchor, a brutal reminder of all she’d survived.

  Burying her fingers in the wild grass, she reached across the telepathic link connecting her with her sister. Charlotte responded with a nonverbal ping.

  Do you have a few minutes? It’s important, but not an emergency.

  Charlotte flashed into view, dressed casually in jeans and a bulky sweater, unusual attire for the High Queen of Ontariese. “I always have time for you.”

  Though they were twins, they no longer looked alike. Cinarra’s being had been channeled into the body of a female Mystic moments after the Mystic died. Cinarra’s physical body had been destroyed, so the only alternative had been allowing Cinarra’s energy to disperse permanently. Even knowing she would have died without the transfer, Cinarra still cringed each time she looked in the mirror. Her short, curly blonde hair should be smooth and brown like Charlotte’s. Rather than the gently rotating eyes of an Ontarian, Cinarra’s eyes were now concentric rings of varying shades of blue. Cinarra’s features should be sophisticated and regal rather than delicate and “elfin”, as Indric had aptly dubbed her. And most disconcerting of all, the Mystic had been thirty years younger than Cinarra, so she now looked more like her daughter than her twin sister. The only advantage to the age discrepancy was that it reinforced her role as Betaul’s mother.

  “What’s the matter?” Charlotte sat beside her yet pivoted so they could easily see each other.

  Charlotte’s schedule was always packed, so Cinarra came right to the point. “No one was hurt badly, but Betaul and Prince Dravon were attacked today.”

  “Attacked how? Where? Was the assailant caught?”

  She reached over and squeezed her sister’s hand. “They were playing in the backyard when a volley of plasma shots came over the hedge. Betaul’s hand and leg were hit, but I was able to repair the damage.” She started to tell her that Betaul had healed his own leg then decided the unexpected development was better left for a separate conversation.

  “Then he’s fine? There will be no lasting damage?”

  Charlotte’s protectiveness made Cinarra smile. “Yes. Indric’s guards weren’t able to run down the shooter, but Indric called in trackers to assist with the investigation. Betaul and I are going to move to the palace until the assailant is caught.”

  “A wise precaution. Are you sure Betaul was the target? The NRS hasn’t been active in cycles.”

  Cinarra shook her head, just talking about the attack sent echoes of fear and anger through her. “The investigation has just begun. Drakkin thinks it best if we continue on as if nothing happened. It will give us the best chance of figuring out who was behind the attack.”

  “I’ve learned to trust Drakkin’s instincts over the cycles. Is there anything I can do from this end?”

  “I don’t think so, but it’s probably best if you don’t mention this to Krysta until we know more. She’s even more protective of Betaul than I am.” When Belle had died giving birth to Betaul, the loss had nearly destroyed Krysta. She’d used her affection for Belle’s son to help her process the grief, and even their physical separation couldn’t diminish her devotion to the boy.

  Charlotte nodded with obvious affection. “Krysta would be on the next transport to Bilarri, ready to kick in doors and browbeat suspects until she found out exactly what happened.”

  It was much too easy for Cinarra to picture her feisty daughter in the scene Charlotte described. “And it might come to that eventually, but for now we’re trying to keep things quiet. I’ll fill her in as soon as the situation is less volatile.”

  “You’re in the best position to make the decision, so I’ll leave it up to you. I’m glad they’re not taking chances with your safety, however. Krysta isn’t the only one with protective tendencies.” Charlotte stared at her for a long moment then asked, “Are you and Indric lovers?”

  Was it that obvious that things had changed? Charlotte wasn’t empathic, but they were sisters after all. “We’ve allowed the rumors to protect Betaul. That’s all there is to it.”

  Charlotte’s gaze narrowed and a speculative smile curved her lips. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m not sure of anything anymore.” Cinarra ran a hand through her hair then hurried through an explanation. “Drakkin was the one who suggested we move to the palace. Indric seemed annoyed by the suggestion, so I told him we could come up with a
nother cover story if he didn’t want the public believing we were lovers.”

  Charlotte pressed her lips together as if she were trying not to smile. “But the rumors weren’t what irritated him?”

  “As soon as Drakkin left, Indric kissed me. He told me he’d wanted me for years and he was tired of pretending. Then, before I could recover from the shock, he informed me that he intended to court me. ”

  “That’s wonderful.” Charlotte gave her an affectionate hug then paused and searched Cinarra’s gaze. “Or aren’t you attracted to him?”

  “This was so unexpected. He’s never given me any indication that he thought of me romantically.”

  “That’s not what I asked.” Charlotte’s eyes gently swirled, an intriguing mixture of blue and green. “How do you feel about Indric?”

  Cinarra took a moment to consider the question. This conversation would be pointless unless she was honest with herself. “He’s intelligent and funny, noble and kind.”

  “Kind?” Charlotte chucked. “If he’s anything like Drakkin, what you’ve described is his professional veneer. I’m not saying Indric doesn’t possess those qualities, but I suspect there’s far more to Indric than his kingly persona.”

  Cinarra thought about the kiss and had to agree. She’d never seen Indric like that, so focused and determined. It made her insides quiver. “I’ve always found him physically attractive, but he’s always been so distant, so…correct.”

  “If he’s set his sights on you, that’s about to change.” Charlotte smiled and glanced off into the distance. “Bilarrian men tend to be predatory. Once they’ve chosen their prey—”

  “I’m not going to be anyone’s ‘prey’. I don’t care how powerful they are.”

  “Since when did prey need to be willing?” Charlotte arched her brow and let the question resonate.