“I'll keep an eye out for one, Sire,” Quinn assured him.
The King put a finger to his lips. “As a matter of fact, there is a young woman I would like Vashon to introduce to you.” He looked at his Chancellor. “What is that little one's name, Jaileel?"
“The one who is here visiting your daughters?” came the query. At the king's nod, Jaileel replied: “The Lady Cantara, Your Grace. Lady Cantara Jaborn."
Kaelan felt Quinn stiffen beside him, but to give the warrior his due, he did not let his surprise show on his face, though his complexion had gone a shade or two lighter at the dropping of that particular name.
“I would be honored to meet her, Your Majesty,” Quinn managed to reply.
“Then it's settled,” the King proclaimed, waving a dismissive hand at his Chancellor, who knew his sovereign well enough to know he was to see to the arrangements of the meeting posthaste.
The Rysalian monarch turned his attention then to Kaelan. “When will you be leaving, young sir?"
“As soon as I can pick out a few good brood mares and a colt or two, Your Grace,” Kaelan answered. “I am anxious to get home."
“Ah, yes,” Halim sighed. “You have a new bride awaiting you.” He folded his hands across his ample belly. “I remember it well.” He sighed again, wishing it was not Rysalian custom to have only one wife at a time. Miriam was still a lovely woman, but variety was nice. He shook himself. “And you, young sir,” he said, pointing at Thècion. “Do you have a bride awaiting you?"
Thècion grinned. “There is a sorceress awaiting me, Your Grace."
Halim winced. “A Daughter?"
“Aye,” Thècion answered, beaming.
“Poor man,” Halim commented, though his own lady-wife belonged to that infernal, tricky sect of witches. Not that he had ever had reason to complain about Miriam's involvement with the Multitude. After all, had she not assured him the throne instead of his hateful brother, Kahlid?
“I am content with her, Sire,” Thècion announced.
Yes, she will have seen to that, Halim thought, but did not voice his opinion. Instead, he turned his gaze on Diarmuid. “And what of you, young one? Do you have a bride to warm your bed, as well?"
“By the gods, no, Sire!” Diarmuid gasped, his face draining of color. “Begging your pardon, Majesty, but I am not of a mind to go that route!"
Halim frowned. “You prefer your own kind?"
Thècion made a strangled sound and had to slap his hand over his mouth to keep from sputtering with laughter. As it was, he had to bury his face against Kaelan's shoulder.
“What?” Diarmuid questioned, misunderstanding the implications of what he had said. He thought about it for a moment and saw nothing wrong. “I prefer the company of men, aye, Your Majesty."
Kaelan had to wrap his own hand around Thècion's mouth to stop the young man from hooting with laughter. Quinn was studiously observing the marble floor, his tongue clamped between his teeth to keep himself from bursting into laughter.
The Rysalian King was frowning darkly-he had no respect for men of that ilk-but he realized from the suffocating looks on the faces of his other guests that the young Chalean had no idea he had said anything that could be misconstrued. He looked from Kaelan to Quinn to the young Serenian who was practically shuddering with suppressed laughter and smiled slowly.
Perhaps the evening meal wasn't going to be so boring after all.
* * * *
Diarmuid wasn't talking to them. He had insisted on being dropped off at Odess where he could take a ship home to Chale rather than spend another day with the likes of Thecion McGregor and Kaelan Hesar, the Cousins from Hell.
“Ah, come on, Dear Mutt,” Thecion insisted. “It was just a joke."
“Leave him be, McGregor,” Kaelan ordered. “I don't think he found it very funny."
Thecion shrugged. Perhaps not, but he sure as hell had.
As did the rest of the Ben-Alkazar palace.
“It wasn't meant to insult you, Dear Mutt,” Thècion tried again, but his friend of many years just ignored him.
“Leave off,” Kaelan repeated. He knew Diarmuid would come around before they made landfall in Odess. At the moment, the young Chalean prince was in high dudgeon and it was best to let him stew in his own juices for the time being. But he did have to admit, the joke King Halim had played on Diarmuid Brell had been funny. Not as funny, perhaps, as the startled, stunned expression on Quinn's face when the Lady Cantara Jaborn had entered the throne room to be introduced to Arbra, but funny just the same.
“She was a beauty, wasn't she?” Thècion asked, referring to Cantara, but his words had an entirely different meaning for Diarmuid.
“LEAVE ME ALONE, MCGREGOR!” Diarmuid bellowed, coming to stand nose to nose with his friend. “T'WAS NOT FUNNY AND I WAS NOT AMUSED!"
“How many times have I told you to be careful what you say, Dear Mutt?” Thècion countered. “The King but took you at your word!"
“YOU KNEW WHAT I MEANT!” Diarmuid threw at him.
“Aye,” his friend agreed, “but the King did not."
'THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD HIM!"
“It wasn't McGregor's place to tell him you don't always mean what you say, Brell,” Kaelan said quietly. “If you are to make your way in this world without the benefit of royal interpreters to correct your mistakes for you, you'd better start learning to do it now."
Diarmuid turned his anger on Kaelan, even though he knew the older man was right. “Stay out of this, Hesar. You have enough problems without making me one of them!"
Kaelan's left eyebrow crooked up into the thatch of his dark brown hair that was blowing in the stiffening sea breeze. He recognized true fury when he saw it, so he held up his hands, letting the young prince know he would keep his council to himself from then on. Turning his back, he walked away, shutting out the angry remarks being thrown between McGregor and Brell. He winced when the first blow landed, but kept on walking, making his way to his cabin and the letter he wanted to write to Gilly.
“I wish I'd been there to see it,” Lum remarked as Kaelan reached the hatchway.
“It was hilarious, but I don't think you should mention you are privy to what happened, Lum,” Kaelan advised.
“Wasn't gonna,” Lum insisted.
The cabin was stiflingly hot, but from experience Kaelan knew the closer they came to Odess, the colder the weather was going to get. He had already laid out a heavy greatcape in expectation of the snow and cold that was to come. Settling down at the writing desk, he lifted his quill and began his letter.
* * * *
By the time the Vengeance came into the bustling Outer Kingdom harbor at Odess, Diarmuid was in a better frame of mind. If he hadn't exactly gotten over the incident, at least he could look back at it and not shudder quite so terribly. The black eye Destin was sporting was satisfaction enough so long as no one back at the Cay learned of what had transpired at the Court of Halim Ben-Alkazar.
“Prince Diarmuid, may I introduce you to Marid?” the King had inquired.
Black sultry eyes behind long, thick eyelashes darkened with kohl had gazed shyly up at Diarmuid. The thick black hair lying in braids down a slender, elegant back had fairly gleamed in the oil lamplight. The soft, smooth hand that had been placed in his had been cool to the touch and the nails tipped with vermilion. Diarmuid had gaped at the beauty before him from pert, upturned nose to sensuous lips, to swan-like neck, and—though not as buxom as Diarmuid preferred his bed partners to be—Marid had a tiny waist and cute little toes that were also painted a bright, alluring red.
“You are lovely, little one,” Diarmuid had whispered, bringing Marid's hand to his lips in the typical Chalean fashion of greeting.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Marid had responded and the voice that had come from that perfect, cupid's bow mouth had been sultry and infinitely promising.
Had Diarmuid not been paying such close attention to Marid's every word as the evening wore on; had he not
been hand-feeding delicious morsels of food into that sensual little mouth, he might well have noticed the sly looks aimed his way by nearly every male at the banqueting table. If he wondered why there were no other women in attendance, he did not notice for he had eyes only for the sweet perfection of flawless, tanned flesh that slid over Marid's delicate shoulders.
If truth be told—and Diarmuid prayed to the gods that it never was—he had lost a portion of his heart to Marid that evening.
And would have inquired after taking his dining partner home to the Cay with him if Thècion hadn't let the cat out of the bag.
“He's a boy, Dear Mutt!” Thècion had howled at the suggestion. “Didn't you know that?"
Thinking back on it now, Diarmuid could feel his face getting red again. He would never forgive Thècion and he wasn't so sure he would ever forgive Kaelan, either, for not warning him.
“It was a harmless prank,” the Viragonian had responded to Brell's demand to know ‘just what the hell were you men thinking?'
A prank, Diarmuid snorted as he plopped down in his bunk and nursed the bruised knuckles that had repeatedly connected with Thècion's hard jaw.
Well, it was kinda funny, he thought, and found himself grinning. He immediately wiped the grin off his face and returned his handsome features to the scowl he had been practicing all day. Best now to let anyone know he wasn't all that upset. After all, he had learned a valuable lesson.
Turning over, he thought back to Quinn and the dumbfounded expression on that man's face when he'd seen his future bride. Now, there was a sight to make a man smile!
Quinn had been telling a joke to Prince Vashon Ben-Alkazar when the King's Chancellor announced the arrival of the Lady Cantara. Arbra had slowly swung his head toward the doorway and every bit of color had drained from the poor warrior's face.
“She was a beauty, wasn't she?” Thècion had asked Kaelan earlier.
Aye, Diarmuid thought, that she was. He would never have said so to Kaelan, but the Lady Cantara outshone even Gillian and that was extraordinary!
Tall and willowy, with a waist that could easily be spanned by a man's hands, the breathtaking beauty who had walked into the throne room had taken Quinn Arbra's heart on sight. Her soft violet eyes had gone straight to his and held, and the lips that had been so richly stained with the color of pomegranate had eased into a welcoming smile that would put the goddesses in heaven to shame.
Quinn had risen slowly to his feet, his heart in his eyes, his soul reaching out to hers, and every man there knew he was lost.
Or found, as Kaelan insisted later on that evening.
“She's what he needs,” the Viragonian had insisted.
Diarmuid sighed. Up until that evening, he had not thought to ever marry. He didn't want to have to cater to a woman's whims and moods and tempers. He wanted to go where he wanted to go, when he wanted to go, and not have to answer to anyone.
But now?
He sighed again. Thècion had D'Lyn; Kaelan had Gilly; Quinn had Cantara. What did he have?
A cold, lonely bunk that felt even colder and lonelier than usual.
Well, he thought as he turned over and tucked his pillow more comfortably under his head, there were plenty of women at the Cay. Maybe one of them had a cold, lonely bed, too.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Eleven
D'Lyn sat down heavily on the rock beside Gilly and turned her attention to the sea.
“An hour?” Gilly asked.
“Give or take,” D'Lyn responded.
“Nervous?"
“Aye."
Brownie shifted her head from one Her to the other, trying to decide why they didn't seem all that happy about the imminent return of the Him. Were they angry at Him for some reason.
“He's gonna be annoyed,” D'Lyn stated.
“Aye."
The big brown mutt laid her big head down on her outstretched paws and let her eyes move back and forth instead of her head. The two Hers were giving her a headache and their jitters were beginning to annoy Brownie.
“You really shouldn't have done it,” D'Lyn said.
“I know, but I just got so angry."
“Um hum,” D'Lyn acknowledged. That was an understatement. She turned her head and looked at her new friend. “Have you any conception of how it was taken?"
Gilly shook her head and swiveled around to look at D'Lyn. “Bad, was it?"
“Oh, yes,” D'Lyn agree. “Very bad, indeed."
Gilly winced. “Well, there's nothing I can do about it now."
D'Lyn shrugged. “I suppose not, although I think he will not be pleased."
“I know he won't,” Gilly admitted.
Brownie shuffed. She wished the Hers would be quiet so she could rest. Why did human Hers feel the need to yap so much? The Him never did. There were hours at a stretch when the Him never said a word. Brownie liked it that way.
“You scared me, you know,” Gilly sighed.
“You needed to be stopped before you did more damage,” D'Lyn countered.
“They deserved it!'
“Aye, I agree, but enough was enough."
I agree, Brownie thought, shuffing again. Do be quiet Hers!
Gilly put her chin in her hand and her elbow on her knee and stared out at the cresting waves. Soon, the Vengeance would dock alongside the Revenant and both her husband and D'Lyn's betrothed would be home.
She couldn't help but wonder just how angry Kaelan was going to be at her and that, to a small degree, damped the excitement of seeing her beloved again after six months.
“He will not be too angry once he sees what else you've gone and done, Gilly,” D'Lyn commented, smiling. She patted her new friend on the shoulder, then stood. “Don't stay in the sun too long,” she advised before leaving.
“D'Lyn?"
“Aye?"
“Don't let him see that little jar you have."
D'Lyn nodded. “I won't.” She chuckled to herself and started down the bluff.
At last, Brownie thought as the Her left. She lifted her head, looked long and hard at the other Her, then laid her head on her paws again and closed her eyes. She was almost asleep when Her whooped and jumped up. Brownie leapt to her feet, barking: “What? What?"
“HE'S HOME!” Her shouted and started down the cliff.
Nick frowned as he saw his sister coming off the promontory a bit faster than he thought either prudent or safe, but he knew better than to scold her. He shivered, thinking of the revenge she had exacted on the defenseless folks of Wixenstead Harbor. He'd not like to have Gilly that angry with him. At least she had forgiven him for having her jailed in Ciona.
“If I had not been there, I would not have stowed away on the Serenian Star. Had I not stowed away, I'd not have met Quinn,” she had reminded. “So count yourself lucky, Nicholas Cree, that the gods put me where they wanted me so I wouldn't kill you for what you did to me!"
Nick shivered again. He knew Gilly was going to put a hex on the village at Wixenstead. He'd know that the moment she'd heard Kaelan's tale; he'd even asked her if that wasn't going to be her intent:
“And what do you plan on doing about it?” he'd asked.
“You know gods-be-damned well what I plan to do, Nicholas,” she'd replied.
“Aye, lass; I do, indeed. But can you wait until we leave this place before you start in on it?"
Well, she'd waited all right and Nick had forgotten all about that conversation until he had sailed the Revenant as close to Wixenstead Harbor as Gilly's curse would allow. Thinking back on it, now, he chuckled. At the time, it hadn't been so funny.
“What the hell is this?” Raine Jale had queried as he stood at the rail, gawking.
“Sweet Merciful Alel,” Nick had sighed. “My sister did this!"
There was no way the Revenant could dock at Wixenstead Harbor; no other ship, either. A mile deep floe of ice covered the waters leading into the harbor and two ships were stuck fast in the frozen muck.
> “DON'T TRY IT!” the captain of one had shouted to Nick. “WE'RE BOTH STUCK AND IF YOU TRY TO WALK ACROSS, YOU'LL FALL THROUGH!"
Gilly's own brand of revenge, Nick thought as he watched his sister hurrying down to the water to meet Kaelan's ship. He'd asked her about it when he came home to the Cay and her answer had been right to the point.
“Those cold-hearted bastards had cut my Kaelan off from everything, so I cut them off to show them how it felt!"
And show them she had. There was no way for any ship to dock in Wixenstead Harbor and Nick was to learn that the town had been cut off completely from the outside world by forty-foot high snowdrifts that had blocked every road into the village.
Nor had she forgotten about the salting of Kaelan's well, either, for the town's water supply had a very distinct taste of saltwater.
“I wanted them to know how lonely he was out there at Holy Dale."
Had it not been for D'Lyn's intervention, Nick wouldn't have been able to dock and bring her, Ned and Kymmie, Brownie and Revenge home to the Cay.
“I merely visited her and reminded her there were those of us who needed to get out of the village,” D'Lyn explained to him the night the ice floes simply disappeared into the fog.
Thank the gods for the witch, Nick thought. He had no intention of asking the girl just how she had visited his sister who was a thousand or so miles away. It didn't do to get involved with the business of the Multitude.
“NICKY!” he heard Gillian calling out to him.
Nick shook himself, so as to alleviate the memory of the stark, terrified faces of the townsfolk who had greeted him upon his arrival.
“Tell His Grace we are sorry!” the mayor had cried as he stood on the dock, wringing his bejeweled hands. “Ask him to please not place any more curses on us! We'll not venture to Un ... to Holy Dale and we will not give him any more reasons to be angry at us!"
Upon asking questions of the proprietor of the tavern, Mr. Titus Neils, Nick learned that all charges against Kaelan Hesar had been dropped by the Tribunal. How Occultus had managed that, Nick didn't want to know. He had dropped off Raine, who had sold his stable to one of Lum Tarnes’ sons, picked up the passengers who would be making the Cay their new home, then sailed away from Wixenstead Harbor with never a look back. Tacking straight to Ciona, he'd dropped off Traer, picked up a few of Tyler and Taylor's family and friends, Jess Patrick's wife, Vee, and their son Nolan, then headed back to Montyne Cay.
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