by Genia Avers
Subena tried to conceal her surprise. She didn’t know Creshin had declared war.
When did that happen? She stared at her brother. He winked before masking his face with seriousness.
He lied. Her saintly brother spoke falsely. Creshin had made no formal declaration of war.
She wouldn’t have been able to pull off a boldface distortion of the truth, but Jalakin had done it to spur the Council into action. The cad. The wonderful, manipulative cad. She could almost overlook his use of her nickname in front of the Council.
“Wait.” The empress stood, preening and puffing. Subena braced for yet another counterargument. “I still don’t understand why my daughter must marry the cur? Can’t we negotiate a treaty without sacrificing her?”
“Mother,” Jalakin replied, “we’re in no position to dictate terms.”
Subena flashed her brother a look of gratitude. She doubted, were she in his place, she’d have enough patience to reply as civilly.
Jalakin’s tone softened. “Even if we could somehow ensnare an alliance with Gatsle, historically treaties only last when countries are bound by blood or matrimony. King Rothart is adamant about the marriage.”
“Whatever for?” The empress’s stressed voice sounded unfamiliar.
“It seems the king wants his son to settle down.” Jalakin refused to look at Subena.
Kaarl quipped, “If our little science minister’s still a virgin, maybe it’s time she settles down, too.” The room erupted with laughter.
The empress burst into tears and fled the room. Bejet rose to follow.
“Wait, Bejet.” Jalakin managed to block his path. “We must vote.” The councilor hesitated but returned to his chair.
With the empress not present, the treaty passed by a vote of five to two. As soon as Jalakin recorded the ratification, Subena stormed out the door.
* * * *
The promise of comfort beckoned Subena to the Rosetta Garden where Taslin, Lord Duke of the province of Reklaw, waited. The presence of her lifelong friend would make things better. He’d understand.
Catching sight of him, Subena stopped running and pressed her hand against a tree. Looking at Taslin’s profile diminished the humiliation burning in her skin. Seeing his face lessened the dread of a dismal future.
Taslin stood tall and proud, the stuff of female fantasies—wide shoulders, slim hips, and long muscular legs. His dark wavy hair touched the top of his collar and framed a face Bockle had bestowed with granite perfection.
He tossed a pebble into the smooth pond before he turned to face her. Something in his gaze turned Subena’s feet to stone. She could practically feel the darts of anger shooting from his body.
Of course he’s angry, you idiot. She cursed her oversight. Taslin deserved a full explanation, but negotiations and searching for warships had consumed her time. The opportunity to speak privately with Taslin had never presented itself. Until now.
“Tas, I…” She squashed the part of her that feared Taslin’s temper and plastered a smile across her face. Forcing her stiff legs forward, she approached the male she’d once believed was the love of her life.
“You what?” The duke rebuffed her open arms and turned his back to her.
She winced, not sure how to react. Taslin must surely understand. He exemplified patriotism. Shouldn’t he applaud her sacrifice, understanding that Mydrias would not survive otherwise?
“Tas?”
Subena touched the back of his arm, needing a connection. Without turning to face her, he methodically removed her hand like a piece of lint. “I got your message. What do you want?”
She slumped onto the bench. Where was the friend she’d known for years?
Although Mydrias didn’t believe in royalty, Annika had sent her children to the Royal Academy in Reklaw. Subena and Taslin had formed a childhood bond and had been inseparable for as long as she could remember. She couldn’t bear it if he deserted her.
She’d assumed, as she felt sure he did, that someday they would take vows. Once, Taslin actually hinted at an engagement, but she’d stalled, engrossed in testing her blood substitute, in hoping it could prolong the life of crystals. When her experiments proved futile, Taslin didn’t restate his proposal, but he’d asked her to share his bed. He’d punched the wall when she refused.
“Tas, we’ll get through this.” They always had.
He said nothing.
“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you sooner.”
He spun around to face her. “How can you do this?” His bark stunned her. She dug her nails into the bench to steady her body.
“I have to do this. I thought you, of all people, would understand.” Subena stiffened.
“Understand? You didn’t even have the decency to tell me first. Did it ever occur to you that I’d become a laughingstock?”
She blinked. Bockle. The Taslin in her mind was very different from the cold, distant being standing before her. “Laughingstock? Why would anyone laugh at you?”
His face contorted. For a brief second, Subena thought she’d glimpsed hatred, but that couldn’t be correct. The day’s events had made her overwrought.
Taslin’s scowl smoothed into the handsome face Mydrian females loved. “People expected us to wed.”
“But we never announced…” Bockle, he’d started those rumors. “I never agreed to a wedding, Tas.”
His face remained passive, but hardness glittered in his eyes. “Of course you didn’t. But you didn’t say no either. What? You didn’t want anyone else to have me?”
Pain sliced through her ribcage, as sharp as a sword. She doubled over and grabbed her side. She’d never once seen any evidence that Taslin had ancient skills; otherwise, she’d swear he’d attacked her.
Not possible. If he had talents, he wouldn’t have hidden them from her.
Why not? She’d hidden her skills.
Subena straightened and shook her head. She saw evil where none existed. Taslin might be angry, but he’d never harm her.
And his anger was justified. She’d really hurt him. “I’m sorry, Tas. I have to go through with the wedding. I’ve no choice.”
He sucked in air, making a hissing noise. “Everyone has a choice.”
“Some choice,” she replied, wishing she sounded calmer. “If I don’t do this, everyone I love dies from lack of crystals? How’s that a choice?”
“There are other ways.” He turned away from her again. “Typical little Bena. So consumed in your own games you don’t stop to consider anyone else.”
“Tas. I’m so sorry. There’s nothing else we can…wait. What do you mean, ‘other ways’?”
He twisted his head to glare at her. After a couple of seconds, he turned away again. “Never mind. Tell me what you thought. I can’t wait to hear your rationalization.”
She couldn’t tell him what she thought because she couldn’t think. Days of tension had exhausted her mind.
No, that was an excuse. Being honest, she realized she’d simply forgotten Taslin. She hung her head.
“No response?” He made a snorting noise. “Responding isn’t your strong suit, is it?”
Her head popped up, a shot of defiance replacing some of the guilt. He’d always acted so sympathetic when she complained that everyone called her the frost nymph. “This marriage is a political assignment,” she stated woodenly, knowing she sounded like she deserved her reputation.
“An assignment with a life sentence. It isn’t just your sentence.”
Her anger melted. “That’s not true. I only have to stay in Gatsle one year, Tas. Then I can get an annulment.”
His scowl frightened her. “You really think I’ll touch you after you’ve been with that vermin?” He shuddered. “Honestly, Subena. I thought you were at least intelligent.”
She jumped up from the bench and positioned herself in front of him, grabbing the lapels of his jacket. “He won’t touch me. I won’t let him.”
Taslin froze for a second and then
laughed. “You’re more naïve than I thought. Get out of my way.”
She cringed at his mocking cruelty. “Taslin, please. Surely you understand?”
“No.” He grabbed her arms just above the elbows. Squeezing harder than necessary, he lifted her up and moved her off the pathway. “Even if that Gatsle pig doesn’t force himself on you, I couldn’t bear the thought of you belonging to him. The Duke of Reklaw waiting around for crumbs from the wife of a barbarian king? I don’t think so. Worse, I won’t be with the female who destroyed our hope of returning to earth.” He marched away, never once looking back.
He’d deserted her.
“Kamber isn’t a king,” Subena whispered. She touched her face, startled by the warm moisture on her cheeks. She felt her ears growing into a point, but she didn’t have the concentration to change the shape so she pulled her hair over them.
She supposed she hadn’t really expected Taslin to wait for her and maybe she didn’t even want him to. Still, a friendly shoulder would have been nice.
Chapter Five
From her second story window, Subena used her index finger to part the heavy curtains and peer at the dark elf. Per custom, she’d avoided direct contact with Kamber since the Gatslians had arrived three days earlier, but curiosity hadn’t precluded spying on her soon-to-be spouse.
The tightness of his shirt emphasized the ripples in his chest, making it difficult to look at anything other than his tall, massive frame. He wore long, loose slacks that still managed to cling to his thighs like a second skin. It irked her that his jet-black hair touched his shoulders but still looked stylish.
He should have been reviled. He was, after all, a descendent of the Dökkálfar. Why didn’t he look like the evil being he was?
She supposed she understood why the ladies flocked to him—shallow females, anyway. Except for his impish expression, he could’ve been a mighty warrior in a bygone era. A member of the dark ones, and a monumental jerk, shouldn’t look so good.
“Taslin looks better,” she whispered, determined to remain loyal despite the duke’s rebuff. Taslin would apologize. After he cooled down.
Subena tried to concentrate on her loyalty, but couldn’t resist another peek at the prince. Toned muscles flexed as he settled himself on his equestor. The fluid movement drew her attention to the powerful thighs as he sat astride the stallion.
He might look better than Taslin.
Stop. She couldn’t think like that. Physical beauty didn’t matter. Taslin personified intelligence—that’s what mattered. Tas was good. Kamber was Dökkálfar. Evil.
When she tore her gaze away from the fiend’s body and looked at his face, he stared directly at her. Amusement flashed in his shining green eyes and contrasted sharply with his stern expression. She’d barely parted the curtain, but if she didn’t know better, she would swear he could see her.
His gaze locked on hers. There was something mesmerizing about those eyes, something more than the unusual emerald color. Subena wasn’t sure she could have looked away—even if that had been her desire. She felt as if a brilliant light cascaded between them, filled with facets of all things good–calmness, excitement, happiness. Passion.
All that from a single glance. A connection.
He smiled, adding perfection to an already perfect moment. He waved, shattering the illusion.
She jerked her body away from the window like she’d been stung. Her spies had informed her he’d been seen with a floozy just three days before his journey to Mydrias. There’d been no connection made. None.
She felt a renewed appreciation for the Gatslian custom that forbade interaction between the bride and groom during the week before the nuptials. The only good thing about the dark elf’s presence was the army he’d brought with him. Lord Creshin and his ships would think twice before coming onto Mydrian shores now.
“Looking at something?”
Subena whirled. She hadn’t heard anyone enter her chambers. “Forgotten how to knock, Mom?”
“Sorry, dear. I’m a bit distracted. Why didn’t you come down for lunch?”
Subena sighed. Her mother understood the Gatsle custom perfectly well. The empress didn’t relish the tradition because Mydrias had no similar restriction. “I think the Dökkálfar no-contact custom is archaic too, but I see no reason to insult the people who are giving us crystals.”
“Oh, pooh.” Her mother’s unusual composure proved almost as disconcerting as her impending nuptials. “I still find it most suspicious that those creatures would give us access to their quartz mines. I wonder if there’s even any quartz left in them.”
Subena opened her mouth to remind her mother the Mydrian engineers had confirmed enough quartz to last for at least fifty years, but Annika rambled on in her typical fashion. “And that Kamber wasn’t even in attendance. I swear, he’s as moody as you are. But that may be a good thing. I think we can bribe him. I bet it won’t take much to convince him to duck out on the ceremony. If he calls it off, you won’t have to live in that horrid, ancient place and we can keep the crystals they’ve already given us.”
Subena didn’t want to marry the cretin, but thinking Kamber felt the same way didn’t exactly fill her with confidence. “Mother, what scheme have you concocted this time?”
The empress’s mouth formed a perfect O. “Concocted? Why nothing, dear. Just wishful thinking. The only thing I’m planning is your ceremony. I might not like the reason for the celebration, but if we must have one, we must have it with style. We’ll show these swamp creatures what class is all about.”
She studied her mother’s face, wondering what the empress wasn’t saying. Her mother seemed…resigned. Too resigned, but maybe the party had taken the edge off. Planning events was the empress’s specialty, and there was no bigger party than a wedding ceremony.
Subena turned back to the window, grateful that her future husband no longer stood on the street below. The boldly-colored roofs on the pastel buildings created a kaleidoscope of color that contrasted sharply with her gray mood. Maintenance crews washed the cobbled streets daily and every pristine building twinkled under the heat of the Sun-Star. She’d find no brightness in Gastle and the prospect of waking without seeing that view suddenly saddened her. It was too much.
She had to get away without letting her mother see her distress. The empress was looking for any reason to kibosh the treaty and a single tear would be excuse enough. “I’m a bit tired, Mother. Did you want something?”
Her mother crossed the room and wrapped her arms around her. “I’m trying not to think about how much I’ll miss you.”
“It’s only for a year.” She lingered in her mother’s embrace, touched by her parent’s sentiment, and feeling uncharacteristically needy.
“Maybe, but a year’s a long time. I fear you’ll grow fond of that disgusting man and you won’t return. There’s something unnaturally appealing about all the dark handsomeness. It’s the bad boy thing, I suppose.”
Not possible. No matter how gorgeous Kamber might be, he spent his days gambling and hunting. Everyone knew how he spent his nights. “It would be easier to grow fond of eating mice.”
“I wish you’d get over your fascination with rodents.” The empress shuddered.
Subena reached for her mother’s elbows, all too aware that simply mentioning mice or rats might be enough to send Annika into one of her fainting spells. The empress seemed steady on her feet. What happened to the simpering parent she’d been last week?
“I’ve heard the reports about Kamber’s nightlife, too.” The queen rolled her eyes, the same gesture she’d made earlier when Subena suggested white napkins would be fine at the wedding dinner. “A cultured beauty like you deserves so much more.”
She stepped back to get a better look at her mother. The naughty look on her face disturbed Subena. The empress hadn’t worn that particular expression since…well, since her father was alive.
Her father had been special, a pillar of strength and responsibility
. He adored his wife and his children. Subena wanted a man like that. Instead, she’d be stuck with a cur who’d probably continue to fornicate with every willing female in Gatsle. Her country might have open views about sex, but once vows were exchanged, monogamy was required. Reminiscing made her feel something akin to hatred for her future spouse. For the first time, she questioned her decision.
“I’m so sorry you had to sacrifice your true mate.”
“Sacrifice my what?” Subena blinked, not certain she’d heard her mother correctly.
The laughter that followed grated on her nerves. “Your true mate. Surely you haven’t forgotten Taslin? Although he did desert us rather quickly.”
“Taslin isn’t…” Tension stiffened her body. She’d known in her heart the duke wasn’t for her, but she also knew there was no one else. No living male had ever stirred her passion—only the man from her vision had been able to touch her heart. And that male was merely fantasy.
“Oh, dear.” The empress twisted her hands together. “I hadn’t thought of that. If this monster keeps you from your true mate, you won’t be able to have a child.”
She swallowed, feeling spooked that her mother had voiced her own concerns. Most Mydrian couples never conceived at all. Subena blamed the crystals, although she had no proof.
Bockle blessed the more fortunate parents with a single child, which made Annika’s four offspring one of the country’s greatest miracles. The people loved her mother—even before Jalakin was born. After Subena came along and the twins followed—the only multiple birth ever documented on Lanatus—her mother attained legendary status. Subena didn’t want to be a legend, but she did want a baby.
“Even if I find my true mate, that wouldn’t guarantee a child, Mother.”
The empress gulped. “There are things a female can do...”
Subena cringed. She’d heard rumors about blood rituals that permitted artificial reproduction, but the offspring were seldom healthy. She couldn’t believe her mother would even suggest such a thing.
