“We will have a child who sings and reads minds?” she asked dubiously, attempting to absorb these oddities.
He toyed with her breast, and arousal tugged instantly at her.
“I’d rather not search the stars for an answer to that,” he said with a seriousness that did not suit what he was doing to her body. “The island has always had an Olympus as a leader. Lissandra and I are the last of our line. I can hope our child will carry the traits he or she needs to take our place one day.”
“But you doubt my traits are good for leadership.” She fell back against her pillows, remembering why she’d been reluctant to come here, remembering his mother’s threats.
“Even you do not know that,” he argued. “You have spent your life suppressing your gifts with music and believing you don’t have the power to change lives, but you do. Very few of us are born with the symbol of one of our gods. Those who do have been chosen for a purpose. That purpose may be unknown or discarded or lost, but that does not negate the intent.”
He traced the broken spiral on her spine. “Here, you bear the mark of the Lord of Chaos — or Change. He does not give such lightly.”
“I can change lives?” The possibility seemed far-fetched. She’d done no more than nurse Jean, teach music to students, and manage her father’s household. Ian and Pauline had been the ones who’d set her feet on the path outside of home.
“Perhaps not entirely on your own,” Ian conceded, “but with practice, possibly. Your father’s oratory helped bring about a revolution. If he’d possessed your ability to understand character and more of your ability to manipulate with his voice, he might be ruler of all France.”
That was too terrifying a thought to consider. She did not have the wisdom to effect such changes. Or the need for such power. “You are seeking an heir to keep your family’s position,” she replied accusingly, “instead of seeking the very best leader the island has to offer. Our child could be like me — with no desire at all to be king.”
“We don’t have kings,” he said, although she heard doubt in his reply. “The Olympus family is the only one with the ability to predict the future. That’s necessary in a leader.”
She made an inelegant noise. “Intelligence, wisdom, experience, understanding, and a broad mind would serve as well. Lack of greed would be useful. Seeing the future serves no one unless they’re prepared to act upon it.”
“I hear the notes of certainty in your voice,” he said with the delight of discovery. “Is this how you hear character when people speak? It’s a vastly useful trait.”
She punched his arm. The sun was rising through the open windows, and she would like nothing more than a lazy breakfast and a leisurely exploration of his home, but even she knew that wouldn’t happen. His people were waiting for him.
“I never knew that what I heard was real. I thought it was my imagination. Don’t start using my gifts against me already!”
She was gifted. It was a startling notion, but not so startling with Ian as her guide. He made her oddities seem real and potentially useful, if she had the courage to test and make use of them.
He chuckled and rolled on top of her, trapping her with his big body. “Read my mind.”
And amazingly, she could. She was beautiful in his eyes, a complex creature of immense fascination to him, a gentle, courageous partner who would share his life, not exploit his position or abilities. His joy filled her, and she nearly burst with it.
He trusted her…and…
“You love me?” she whispered. “How can that be?” But she knew. He’d told her without the words, through his actions, his sacrifice.
“Is that what this feeling is?” he asked, pleased. “If so, you have brought it to me.”
In wonder, she opened her own mind, let the feelings flow freely from her heart and soul as she had not done since she was a child, and acknowledged that the connection between them was far more than physical.
“I see me in your eyes,” he whispered, kissing her tenderly. “Thank you for that.”
“I lose those I love,” she warned, gripping his arms. “I don’t want to love you.”
“But you do,” he said with certainty. “I will do my best to cherish your love. And I am not so easily lost, as you must know by now.”
A small laugh covered her sob. “You are right, you are very difficult to lose. And I think I love you for that most of all.”
“Good. Keep that in mind when I’m at my most aggravating.”
He pressed his case then, giving her no time to respond with words, only actions.
* * *
When Chantal woke next, the bed beside her was empty. She scarcely knew where she was, but she knew Ian was not here, and panic raised its ugly head.
“Good. You’re awake,” a cool female voice announced from behind her head.
Female. Not Ian. She grabbed the sheet to her breasts and forced her eyes open. Sunlight poured into a room of whitewashed walls and shelves of books. She would recognize Ian’s room anywhere. Where was he?
“Ian has his hands full,” the voice explained as if Chantal had asked the question aloud. “The Council has discovered your father’s arrival, and our mother is attempting a mutiny.”
Not good. Danger. She sensed things she had no right knowing. She turned over and met the multihued eyes of Ian’s sister. Lissandra’s silver-blond hair hung loosely to her shoulders this morning, crowned with flowers and braids. Her Roman-style gown fell to her feet in a ripple of white, like a vestal virgin from an Italian painting.
“Can you tell if the child is a boy?” Lissandra asked, wearing a composed expression. She held a mug of steaming liquid but did not offer it.
“What child?” Chantal drew the sheet around her nakedness.
The movement reminded her of the ring she now wore. She glanced down, and a pearl glowed from a ring set in rubies and gold, a smaller version of the one she’d seen Ian wear. They were officially bound. Or married. Or whatever that meant here.
“Amacara ceremonies always produce children.” Lissandra finally offered the mug. “Perhaps you are not sufficiently gifted to have seen the vision,” she added sympathetically.
Chantal wasn’t discussing visions of any sort with this woman who spoke in careful tones designed to conceal her every thought. “Where are my clothes? If Ian and my father are in trouble, I must go to them.”
“Don’t be foolish. They can take care of themselves. You need a restorative before you can go anywhere. You have Ian’s heir to think of now, should he manage to keep his position.”
“Excuse my bluntness, but I know what happens to queens who drink from the cups of enemies.” Holding the sheet around her, Chantal swung her legs over the bed’s edge. Dizziness swamped her, and she steadied herself with her hand while she studied her surroundings.
At least it wasn’t a prison. It wasn’t even a palace. The vaulted ceiling distinctly resembled thatch, with branching tree limbs providing support. The tree grew upward from beneath a floor of golden wood that gleamed in the sunlight streaming through enormous open windows. The chamber was beyond enchanting.
“Rivals maybe,” Lissandra replied with a little more feeling. “But not enemies. Ian and I share the duties our parents once shared. If our mother’s mutiny succeeds, we will both lose our authority.”
“And this is not a good thing?” Chantal translated the notes in her “rival’s” voice.
“It will set Aelynner against Aelynner as people take sides. Our mother has been under a great strain for years. Our father’s death nearly broke her. She agreed to be relieved of her duties two years ago, when we learned she had sent Murdoch into the world without fully stripping him of his unpredictable powers. But she is still a strong, gifted woman.”
In Lissandra’s voice, Chantal heard grief, resentment, and determination. She didn’t need her piano to play the notes and verify her instinct. If she believed Ian, this mystery was a gift, not madness.
“I believ
e Murdoch is learning some degree of control,” Chantal said dryly, finally daring to touch her bare toes to the warm floor.
“You met Murdoch?” Lissandra gasped. “Where is he?”
Picturing the sardonic Murdoch walking away with two laughing children in his arms, Chantal dared a smile. “Well occupied for a while. Ian can tell you more. I need to go to my husband now. I am the cause of his distress, and I must be the solution.”
“Don’t be foolish. You know nothing of what we can do here. You know nothing of our ways.” Alarm overrode Lissandra’s initial startled reaction to Chantal’s declaration. “Ian could very easily be the most powerful man on earth. He certainly doesn’t need your help.”
“There, we differ.” Chantal crossed the room to a trunk where a gleaming white linen gown awaited. Ruby embroidery to match her ring adorned the neckline and hem. She looked, but her corset and chemise were not to be seen.
Defiantly, she dropped the sheet, revealing the mark upon her spine.
Lissandra gasped again and went blessedly silent.
Chantal drew the gown over her head. Lined with delicate muslin, the folds of soft linen draped over her breasts, both emphasizing and concealing her form. The gown left her arms bare, but in this warm climate, that seemed sensible.
“You do not believe Ian is the most powerful man on earth?” Lissandra asked warily, avoiding any comment on Chantal’s revealing mark.
“I haven’t met every man on earth.” She looked for a mirror and, not finding one, grabbed the hair at her nape and picked up one of Ian’s leather strings to tie it back. “But I don’t doubt that Ian is quite extraordinary. That doesn’t mean he can’t use a little help from time to time. You just admitted that your mother had your father’s help, and you need Ian’s. It seems reasonable to believe he needs mine. No man should have to stand alone.”
Oddly, she felt his tension, almost as if she read his mind, but not quite. She thought he might be clenching his jaw to prevent his temper from exploding. And she thought maybe his temper needed to explode.
Besides, thinking of Ian kept her from thinking too hard about all the fantastical memories of the past night. She wanted to sit down to prevent flying apart, but she couldn’t afford the luxury. Change hovered like a growing thunderhead. She might not see it, but she knew it was there, and she wanted to be with Ian when the cloud burst.
“If your presence affects him, it’s to weaken him,” Lissandra countered. “An Olympus has never mated with a Crossbreed in all our generations dating back to when time began. He cannot rule properly with your weaknesses flowing through him.”
“Had your mother allowed my father to marry your cousin, their child would not have been a Crossbreed and might have been more powerful than I.” She had no idea where that notion came from, but the paleness of Lissandra’s face said she’d struck the right chord.
“You’re saying the gods disapproved of my mother’s decision,” she whispered.
“I’m saying that, in my world, royalty claims they’re chosen by the gods, and it’s utter nonsense. Generations of inbreeding produce inferior stock. Any horse breeder knows that.”
She needed shoes. She opened the trunk and rummaged among the garments she found there, locating an old pair of small sandals that might have been Ian’s as a boy. She drew them out and sat on the trunk’s lid to tie them around her ankles.
Lissandra looked both cross and thoughtful. Chantal ignored her. Ian had given her wings, and she must learn to use them. Perhaps it was just freedom that streamed through her senses, making everything seem sharper, clearer. Or perhaps it was the strange notion that her actions could actually make a difference.
“The mark of chaos was bred out long ago for good reason.”
Lissandra had evidently found an argument that satisfied her, Chantal noted. It was not as if anyone had an answer to it.
“Bigotry,” she replied, recalling the Oracle’s distaste. “Every culture needs someone to despise, and it’s foolishly easy to scorn those who suggest that things are not perfect and could be improved. We don’t have time for this. If you wish to help Ian, then show me where he is.”
“Aelynn is as close to perfect as it is possible for a place to be.” Despite her argument, Lissandra led the way into the next chamber, one twice as large as the bedchamber and supported by two trees.
Chantal wished she had time to absorb more than the bright primary colors of the furniture splashed against the golden floor and white walls, but she hurried to keep up with Lissandra’s longer strides. “Ian said you’ve had a drought for years — that ended last night, if I understand correctly.”
Lissandra grumpily refused to acknowledge this fact.
“And Murdoch is evidently not the product of a happy environment,” Chantal merrily continued, relishing her newfound confidence by saying anything she wanted. “Your mother failed to train or restrain him, from what I can tell. He’s a desperately unhappy man.”
Lissandra cast her a glare that didn’t quell the words spilling from Chantal’s tongue like the notes she’d channeled into music all these years.
“The Chalice of Plenty has apparently escaped for some reason none of you understands, which seems a serious flaw to me.” Hit by a bolt of comprehension, she added, “And if neither you nor Ian can find an…amacara…or a mate on this island, then your breeding program is failing spectacularly, isn’t it?”
“It’s not a breeding program,” Lissandra grumbled. “Don’t be crude. You come from a country that starves the poor to feed the rich, a place that is about to explode in fire and bloodshed that will kill men for decades to come. Don’t tell me your improvements will help us.”
Still learning to walk in the odd footwear, Chantal lifted the skirt flowing around her ankles and hastened to follow the shell path Lissandra strode with long-legged grace. She would like to enjoy the rich fragrance of the flowers lining the path, but the foliage dripped with moisture from last night’s rain, and she didn’t want to ruin her new gown before she found Ian.
She glanced over her shoulder at the shelter they’d just left. Built into the giant tree limbs, it was already nearly invisible.
“I do not have the arrogance to believe that my opinions alone matter.” Hurrying onward, Chantal talked to keep from expressing her qualms in an inappropriate manner. She suspected if she hummed, she might cause the earth to vibrate as Ian claimed Murdoch could do. “But if no one on this island has any solution to your problems, then it seems reasonable that you need to introduce new ideas. It is reassuring to know that it can be done without soldiers and weapons.”
Lissandra halted abruptly, and Chantal nearly walked into her. Catching herself just in time, she eased to the right and glanced down into a clearing of houses where people hurried along sandy paths toward a long, low building. A chimney at one end of the building poured smoke.
“The smoke means the Council has called for a vote,” Lissandra said. “Our men wield swords more deadly than any you’ve ever seen. They have been known to vote with the point of those swords. War here could be the end of our world.” Lissandra broke into a run down the hill.
Thirty-five
“Enough discussion,” Dylys shouted over the clamor resulting from her abrupt lighting of the fire of decision. Her voice was unusually weak and did not end the disruption.
All morning, the chamber chairs nearest the podium had filled with representatives from the island’s elite families, those who held land and were blessed with the greatest gifts. To the rear, those with lesser abilities milled about rows of benches.
Trystan and Mariel stood in the rear, diplomatically waiting for Ian to call on them if needed. Once, Trystan had thought to stand at the podium as leader. He’d relinquished his high position in favor of taking Mariel, a Crossbreed, for wife, and dividing his duties between Aelynn and her home.
Kiernan the Finder also waited in the back of the room, along with Nevan the Navigator, both bachelors close to Ian’s age. Wi
th Waylan and Murdoch sailing to England, these two were as close as Ian’s had to friends present. They were travelers who held little interest in owning land, so their Other Worldly views tended to be overlooked by the more powerful representatives. The success of this debate rested solely on Ian.
A voice of dissent arose from an unexpected corner. “She closes the floor to discussion rather than listen to reason,” Alain Orateur stated loudly enough for those in the first ranks to hear. In the brief time since he’d returned to the island, he’d used his silver tongue to persuade the elderly lords to accept that he was entitled to his family’s ancient position among them.
Muted arguments fell silent as Orateur’s comment carried from front to back. Ian wondered if Chantal would have such power, once she’d been given the opportunity to speak. But she had no interest in his position as leader, so it would not benefit him to have her here.
“You forfeited your right to speak to the Council when you left Aelynn,” Ian’s mother said crossly to Orateur. Holding her left arm as if it hurt, she had taken a seat near the fire she’d lit instead of commanding the podium as she once had.
Dylys had lost her power of command, Ian noted with eyes opened by new insight. Once she could have forced the entire room to quiet and listen. Now she sounded like a querulous old woman — one who knew she was losing her authority. That startling thought jarred Ian from his reverie. He’d heard the desperation in his mother’s words.
His power to read minds was almost useless against Aelynners, but Chantal gave him the power to read voices.
“I did not forfeit my right to speak but had it stripped from me by you and others who fear change,” Alain countered. Already he was recovering his health, and his voice was strong and certain. “I am not the instrument of change, nor is my daughter. We are the tools at your disposal to guide you through what lies ahead. We do not create chaos but interpret and help ease disruption to bring harmony. Throw us away, and you throw away your future.”
Mystic Rider Page 30
