Dark Rain

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Dark Rain Page 11

by J. C. Owens


  He surfaced long hours later, shaking the cramp out of his hand from where he had been taking notes.

  Warm arms slipped around his neck, and lips nibbled at his ear.

  He hummed lightly and leaned his head back. A kiss was laid on his ear, then slim but strong hands began massaging his shoulders and neck.

  “You’re taking an interest in this at last.” Hredeen sounded amused and pleased in equal measure.

  “Zaran and Naral weeded out the unsuitables. I hear that you were involved as well.” He glanced up, arching an eyebrow. “Since when do you become involved in things outside the harem? You have always been adamantly neutral.”

  “Since my favorite imperial prince may find himself saddled with an idiot, or perhaps a power hungry bastard who might do his best to make the harem disappear.”

  Taldan shook his head, taking Hredeen’s hand and kissing the back of it, then his palm. “Nobody could possibly make you fade into the background. You rule the harem. You do not need to fear anybody coming in and changing things. That I would not allow. I might be forced to take a Chosen, but I will make sure they have no power but what I gift them.”

  Hredeen leaned down to kiss him, and they took their time. By the end of it, the papers had been pushed away, and Hredeen was curled up on his lap.

  They often sat like this, just quiet, not making love, simply being together. Although Taldan counted Naral as his closest friend, Hredeen was something else again, something clean and bright that soothed a part deep inside him where no one else could reach.

  “Did you make any decisions?” Hredeen gestured to the information on the candidates.

  Taldan fought to bring his mind back from the pleasant lethargy that the moment of peace had brought him, so foreign to his nature.

  “I agree with Zaran and Naral’s assessments. The three they have suggested hold some promise, but I want to add the painter. He holds a great deal of talent, and I could use his illustrations in some of my upcoming works.”

  Hredeen burst into laughter and kissed his nose. “Of course. If he can be useful, then by all means, add him in to the six! Honestly, Taldan, you are so logical it hurts at times.” He hugged him tightly. “And the other two to make up the six?”

  Taldan shrugged. “I will include the mage. If I find he has the knowledge to help me along with the magic, then we could work together.”

  Hredeen leaned back and stroked over Taldan’s face, eyes incredibly soft, and with such a depth of caring that Taldan felt something twist deep down inside himself.

  “Raine?”

  Taldan felt a small smile curl his lips. “I know who your favorite is. You’ve made that abundantly clear. I’m including him as the final candidate of the six. I hope you will be able to forgive me if he is not my choice in the end.”

  “There is something about him, my prince. Don’t you feel it?”

  Taldan frowned and glanced away. He had no wish to brood over his reaction to the young man. Simply because he’d had an unsettling reaction to Raine meant nothing.

  “This is not about feelings and emotions,” Taldan finally said. “Those will only get in the way. Cloud my thinking. I must make the best choice for the empire.”

  Hredeen eyed him. “Perhaps making the best choice for you would also be the best choice for the empire.”

  “And you believe Lord Raine is the best choice for me?”

  “You must make that choice. I can’t make it for you. But I speak the truth when I tell you that I am drawn to him. I feel as if…” Hredeen paused, a rare frown on his beautiful face. He shook his head, a movement of almost otherworldly grace. “As if he belongs here with us. As if he has a role to play…”

  “I have never believed in destiny. The world is only what we make it. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

  One delicate eyebrow raised as haunting purple eyes considered him. “And that is why you work so hard, my prince?”

  “It is,” he said simply. “One of the reasons at least.”

  “You are a good man, Prince Taldan. And you will make a fine emperor.”

  The fervor in the other man’s voice caught him off guard. “That is kind of you. In times to come, I just might make you an official advisor and be done with it.”

  Hredeen sniffed. “I have no interest in politics.”

  He grinned at Taldan’s raised eyebrow. “I don’t. I just want the best for you. No one and nothing is going to damage that. If they did, you would see what lies beneath my sweet exterior.”

  “Sweet?” Taldan scoffed. “You are many things. Beautiful. Talented. Intelligent. Empathetic. Sweet is not something I would ever label you with.”

  Hredeen pouted, ran a forefinger over Taldan’s lips.

  “How little you know me, my prince.”

  “I think you mean how very well I know you,” Taldan whispered as he picked up the smaller man effortlessly and carried him to the overly large bed. “I always love discovering that all over again.”

  * * *

  Naral

  Naral pored over maps of Odenar, familiarizing himself with the places and names, the topography and any other information they presently possessed. He couldn’t escape the feeling that the territory of the empire was going to be a problem, even though they had sent a diplomat and a contingent of imperial soldiers on the ship with Lord Parsul. He wasn’t willing to sit on his hands until the reports came back from the border regions. He wanted to investigate now, especially because of Odenar’s candidate for the High Imperial Prince Taldan. He still had no trust for the manipulative Lord Raine.

  He was rather shocked at the dearth of detail in the reports that had been filed over the recent years. To him, that signaled a concern that should have been addressed long ago. Instead, it seemed as though Odenar’s apparent peacefulness and lack of rebellion had led to a degree of complacency that annoyed him. He was going to track down the official who had filed these papers and drop them on his head. Just because things had been going well up to now was no reason to let down their guard, especially if laws handed down from the empire’s capital were not being followed.

  More than one great civilization had been brought down by such seemingly minor details. He was not about to be one of the fools who had let things slide in the past.

  “You didn’t come to supper,” a voice said behind him.

  Naral yelped, turning sharply, his hand sweeping two of the glass paperweights off the map. They fell clattering to the stone floor, and he cursed virulently. He turned to glare at Prince Zaran who had startled him, bending swiftly to scoop the paperweights up and glance over them for damage. For a wonder, there was not even a chip.

  The younger prince was incredibly stealthy, naturally so, since he had never trained with the Shadows as Taldan had. Zaran was not known for his humor, or Naral would suspect him of deliberately attempting to constantly take Naral by surprise.

  It was vexing to the extreme. No one else got past his surveillance—except the Shadows—and they were another matter entirely. Naral didn’t even feel badly about never knowing where they were or what they were doing. They were a law unto themselves and not his problem.

  He placed the paperweights, a gift from Taldan several years ago, carefully back on the map before turning to face the intruder, folding his arms over his chest and leveling a displeased stare at his prince.

  Zaran raised a brow. “What? You were so engrossed. Anyone else would have known I was here.”

  Naral gritted his teeth.

  Zaran peered past him, taking in the map on the table. “Odenar? Preparing for war are we?”

  “Trying to prepare for whatever the troops and the diplomats find there. I have a very bad feeling about this whole affair. There is something more to things. I feel it, and certainly the lack of information that I am discovering is concerning.”

  Zaran lifted a brow inquiringly, and Naral snorted and passed him one of the reports that he had marked.

  The prince read through it swi
ftly, then paused, frowning and perusing it more slowly.

  “This is ludicrous. When you get down to the end, there is nothing really of worth there. Vague, rambling, I would say it was being deliberately obtuse.” He laid it down, smoothing the page flat as he met Naral’s eyes. “I believe you are right. Whatever is going on in Odenar is far more than a few laws being ignored.”

  He turned away, pacing across the room and back, as he so often did when he was thinking, moving with a measured slow pace. “Do you think we should have sent more men? If there is something bigger… We certainly can’t place an ounce of trust in Lord Parsul Yoldis.”

  Agitated, Naral ran a hand through his hair. “I need to speak to Taldan. The emperor is going to want to know about these reports. He has never tolerated anything less than full disclosure from any territory, and I don’t want him to believe that we sat on this, doing nothing. If there is fault to be had, I don’t want it to be ours.”

  “Hear, hear,” Zaran murmured, leaning against the desk and looking suddenly unutterably weary. “Until then, can you join me to announce the names of the final six candidates? Once that is done, our responsibility for this ridiculous enterprise will be done. I can’t sleep at night for the worry of this. It needs to be over.”

  Naral glanced out the window, realizing time had passed without his knowledge and that he was late for the meal.

  “My apologies, my prince. I got so involved…” He gestured to the map vaguely.

  “I can see why. You are correct. Father needs to know in full what you have found. If there is an issue in Odenar, I pity whoever let this go and saw no problem.”

  Naral took Zaran’s arm and steered him to the door. “One disaster at a time. Let’s get this over with.”

  * * *

  Raine

  Raine watched, his heart in his throat, as Lord Naral addressed the gathered candidates and their retinues.

  “The final six candidates are as follows: Prince Rees Wesparin from the Royal House of Sarna. Malar Ostan, bard of Nartisa. Laen Parlant, heir to the Parlant shipping dynasty, from Taarmun. Antan Gertem, artist of Carlenvae. Valsen Maltes, mage elect of Haes. Lord Raine Yoldis of Odenar.”

  The mage Valsen snorted under his breath and nudged Antan beside him. “Brother to a traitor by the sound of it. Why is he being included?”

  Raine blinked but managed to withhold any reaction that would have shown he had heard the malicious comment. Valsen had more than once said something under his breath as he passed Raine and once had ‘accidently’ slammed a door in his face.

  Raine could not say he understood the man’s choler. Raine was definitely low man in this group, whatever his background was. The gossip and whispers that had followed him from the first day were bound to produce reactions among those who strove to achieve the position of bondmate. Each man was here for his own reasons, but Raine knew that power and prestige seemed to be a draw to a great many people. Whether the remaining six candidates were here under their own will or because they were being used even as Raine was remained difficult to ascertain.

  All Raine knew was that Valsen’s temperament showed him to be a vain and spiteful person, and he quietly hoped that such a man would not end up at Imperial Prince Taldan’s side, no matter how powerful he might be. A person of such magnificence as the soon-to-be emperor deserved better, someone who would care for him on a greater level than Valsen seemed to be capable of.

  Raine was cautious around the mage. He had run into one or two of his ilk that used their powers in anger, and the results were never pretty. A mage without the barriers of self-control and decency was a menace to all concerned and definitely not a credit to his mentors. A person like that was bound to turn to the darker arts at some point, and Raine wanted no part of whatever Valsen might choose to do to others.

  Raine’s plan for the remainder of this affair was to stay silent, let the others vie as they would over the prize. One more week, then the final choice would be made, and he could move on to whatever life here in Persis would comprise. He was excited but also terrified.

  Isnay was searching for a job for him, something that would pay enough to tide him over. Close to poverty perhaps, but much more pleasant than he had ever anticipated his life becoming under the merciless control of his brothers.

  One week before he could leave this tension behind.

  He noted that Antan, the artist, did not seem to agree with Valsen’s comment. Instead, he shot the mage a look of annoyance and began to eat, his body language closed off. Raine wondered if Antan was one who had been coerced into becoming a candidate. He had never displayed much enthusiasm, but then he seemed very withdrawn, his gaze often unfocussed as though his thoughts ranged far away from present time. He had been kind enough to Raine, certainly never going out of his way to be miserable to him.

  Raine saw Imperial Prince Zaran eyeing him from the head of the table and hastily lowered his head and began to eat. Now that the announcements were over, everyone was tucking in, and Raine found himself hungry for once. The thought of freedom just around the corner was a heady one indeed. He felt a twinge of disappointment that he could never be High Prince Taldan’s Chosen, remembering the feeling of the prince’s hands on his body, of looking into his intelligent eyes. But then he dismissed the feelings, pushing them aside for more practical ones.

  His freedom was coming soon, and he needed to be grateful for what he had, not some foolish desire for a brilliant man so far out of his reach…

  CHAPTER NINE

  Taldan

  Taldan had begun the tedious task of speaking to each of the candidates.

  It was enough to try his patience.

  He had set aside the day to meet with three of the candidates, and he had chosen to deal with the ones that Zaran and Naral had chosen first.

  They were all pleasant enough, and certainly overwhelmed at his presence, even Prince Rees, who certainly had rubbed shoulders with a great many powerful people. The prince was remarkably laid back and very understanding of the pressures that would accompany being emperor. It was a wise decision that Emperor Demarin had made in leaving the royal family to govern the lands of Sarna after the country had been conquered and absorbed into the empire.

  The prince was well-educated, well-spoken and with a wry humor that was relaxing to be around. The allotted hour went by far more quickly than Taldan had anticipated. He would be pleasant to spend time with, along with supporting Taldan’s role.

  Next was Malar Ostan, the bard from Nartisa.

  His voice was a wonder, and Taldan could have quite contentedly spent the entire day listening to it. The man was like quicksilver, constantly able to conform to whatever Taldan was speaking of. If he did not know much on a subject, he was readily able to confess that and not try to cover over the gaps by bluffing or lying. He saw the world in such a different manner than Taldan, and it was quite fascinating to discover how he created his musical pieces, how he saw things, then converted that vision into music. He would never be boring, Taldan had to concede.

  Then Laen Parlant, the shipping heir from Taarmun.

  The man seemed completely comfortable in Taldan’s presence, respectful, but never seeming to be overwhelmed by Taldan’s title. It was a pleasant change. The man had traveled so extensively that he had information that Taldan much desired on other far-flung countries, eye-witness accounts of cultures and peoples that the empire had no dealings with. It triggered all Taldan’s curiosity, and before long, he had reached for paper and was making notes. Laen was full of humor, his blue eyes twinkling, and he seemed to find no problem embellishing his tales with ribald laughter. Naral would adore him. He would certainly lighten the atmosphere of the palace, along with the possibility that he would be able to negotiate trade with those countries he had made contact with.

  He was paging through his notes on the candidates when Naral strode into his office with a frown. “So? Any favorites yet?”

  Taldan stopped writing with a sigh, realizi
ng that he would get no peace until his friend knew every detail. “So far the meetings have gone well. Better than I had expected, really.”

  Naral flopped down into the comfortable chair across from Taldan. “So these were the ones Zaran and I had chosen?” He sounded smug.

  Taldan frowned quellingly at him. “I was reasonably impressed. Each of them has their own set of talents and would bring different things to my rule. I cannot say that I have felt a particular pull to any of them, but then, I don’t know exactly what each of my ancestors saw in their bondmate, what made them chose that particular person.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “It would be so much simpler if I knew how they had done it.”

  “Perhaps that is why they never recorded that detail. Perhaps it is something so personal and individual that it cannot be taught or shown.” Naral reached for a grape from the fruit bowl, tossed it into the air and caught it in his mouth.

  Taldan grimaced. His friend had been reprimanded throughout his youth on just that action, but somehow, the stubborn fool had managed to retain the childishness. Now he did it more because he knew it annoyed Taldan.

  However, the shenanigans made him suddenly want a grape.

  He pulled one from the bunch and ate it absentmindedly. Naral was always doing things to make him eat, saying he was far too thin for his size.

  He was probably right. Taldan knew that he was certainly no judge of his own body. All his research and learning, yet he did not pay attention to his own form, his own health. It was foolish, and he knew it, but it was so tedious. His mind ranged far away, and the body wanted to drag him back.

  His looks were moderate as far as he was concerned. He was not classically handsome, as in the ancient heroes, his ancestors. He was told he was striking, whatever that meant. His body was wide shouldered, powerfully proportionate, with long, strong legs. It did what he asked of it. Beyond that, he always assumed that anyone who showed attraction beyond the harem was drawn by his title far more than his looks. His mother had been darkly exotic, and he had inherited her almond-shaped eyes, but beyond that, he was purely his father, with perhaps darker skin. There was certainly no doubt that he was Demarin’s son.

 

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