“That is what happens when Eleri share their bodies.”
She looked over her shoulder at the guards, who stood watching the surrounding area. A sweet blush spread across her cheeks. “That was incredible.” Reluctantly, she pulled her hand away. Her ShantiMari subsided, leaving him empty and wanting.
“When you are full Eleri, it will be better.”
She laughed, and he treasured the sound. “I can’t imagine it being one tiny bit better than that.”
Silver strands of her long hair floated around her suddenly serious face. “Rhoane, I can’t live like this. I won’t live like this. Not with guards following my every move. Always looking over my shoulder. I must learn to control my power. All three strains of it.”
“You will. You have already grasped much of what I have been teaching you. In time, Faelara will send a tutor to instruct you in the ways of the Dark.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be enough. I need someone more powerful than a dithering old priest of Ohlin. I need to train with either Zakael or Valterys.” A look of apprehension rested in her eyes.
The air left him as surely as if she’d punched him in the sternum. “Have you forgotten about Brandt, or what Valterys did to Hayden? It is your power they covet, Taryn. It would be suicide for you to go anywhere near them.”
“I haven’t forgotten, and I won’t forget how it felt to be inches from an assassin’s knife.”
“Let us not make any decisions just yet. You are too raw and untrained. If you went to Valterys or even your brother now, they could easily gain control over your powers.”
A thousand more arguments came to his mind, but she pressed her lips to him, trembling slightly. If he could, he’d take her to the Narthvier and they’d never leave. There, he would give her a future of peace and laughter. As much as she resented being the Eirielle, he hated having to share her with the world. He let his mouth travel over hers, holding her hand in his.
They sat quietly in each other’s company, neither speaking as they watched ships sail down river. Kaida toddled and pounced on unsuspecting insects. It was a serene moment, one that wouldn’t last. He committed every detail to memory. It was enough. It had to be.
“Carga wants us to accompany her to the Narthvier for her purification.” Taryn broke the silence with a sideways glance at him. “In three moonturns.”
“Then we shall.” He kissed her fingertips and chuckled at the antics of her grierbas. Kaida was stalking a lizard, keeping low to the ground, her puppy tail whipping behind her. “Look how she has started to hunt.”
Taryn frowned at the animal. “Do you think Lliandra’s right? That when Kaida gets bigger she’ll attack the livestock?”
Kaida plunged a claw into the reptile, pinning it against the pebbled shore. “It is in her nature. I cannot say for certain that she will not be a threat to us all.”
“I’ve seen him before, you know,” Taryn said almost as an aside.
Rhoane faced her, confusion clouding his thoughts. “Who?”
“The assassin. He’s been tracking our movements. Remember in the mountains, before we met up with the others? Then on the road, I’d see a shadow in the corner of my eye. Always just beyond my vision. I’m sure it was him. He was probably the one who set the vorlocks on us.”
Rhoane’s chest tightened, and he clenched his hands into fists, air coming in shallow drags to his lungs. “Why are you telling me this only now? Why not sooner?”
“I didn’t realize who or what it was before. This world is kind of topsy-turvy to me, and to be honest, I didn’t know if I was really seeing something or if I was imagining it.” Her eyes bore into his. “Let it go, Rhoane. We can’t change the past, and I already have enough guilt to deal with. I just thought you should know. I promise, from now on, if anything strange happens, I’ll tell you right away.”
Rhoane pushed his hands down his thighs, settling his palms on his knees. His fingertips tapped out his annoyance. He was as much to blame for the day’s attack as Taryn was. She’d tried to tell him about the shadow in the mountains, but he’d brushed off her concerns.Never again. Too many times, he’d questioned her concerns and each time her words had been proved true.
He hated that she was right about her Dark powers. Only her father or brother were strong enough to coax them from where they dwelled. Rhoane didn’t doubt they wanted to use her, but he’d be damned if he’d let her go to them alone and vulnerable. If they controlled the Shadow Assassin, she had more to fear from them than their command of her power.
“Hey.” Taryn’s soft voice cut into his thoughts. Her warm hand squeezed his. “You okay?”
He blinked at the creeping darkness. “We should be getting dressed for dinner. Allow me to escort you to your rooms.”
“I’d really like to get some more studying done tonight. I have a whole stack of books in my room to conquer.”
“I am sure word has spread of the attack. It would be best if you arrived at dinner looking very much alive and unhurt.”
“I thought you might say that.” She melded her body to his, wrapping her hands in his hair, which hung in waves below his shoulders. “I like the new look.”
He folded his arms around her slim waist. “You should always wear your sword.”
She pulled back a few inches to withdraw two daggers, one from her blouse and another from her waistband. “I’ve got it covered.”
“Are there more?”
“Maybe, maybe not. You’ll just have to find out.” She danced away from him. “But we’ll be late for dinner if you keep distracting me.”
He scooped up Kaida and took Taryn’s hand. Together, they walked to the palace with her guards following close behind. When they reached the glass doors, Rhoane cast a last look across the river where he knew the Shadow Assassin waited. Next time they would not be surprised.
A whisper of heat singed his ear, taunting him as if to say,We shall see.
Chapter 42
MARISSA purred with contentment as she made her way to Zakael’s study. He sat at the desk, a piece of parchment in one hand, a mug of ale in the other. A plate with scraps of bread and bits of cheese hung off the edge of the desk.
“I see you’re eating well.” She strutted into the room, her robe trailing behind her. “What business keeps you from my side?” When she leaned over to read the paper, he moved it away before grabbing her by the waist.
“I thought after last night you could use the rest.” Zakael’s grey eyes razed her half-naked body. “You’ve dressed for company.”
He tasted of ale and something else, dark and rich, the source of which eluded her. His hands explored freely, touching her secret places, sending waves of desire through her. In a husky voice, she said, “I won’t deny I was disappointed to wake alone in your bed.” The robe fell to her waist with only a twitch of her shoulders. She glanced around, hoping Eiric would be seated at one of the couches. The room was empty save for them and Zakael’s faithful dogs.
He kissed her breasts, squeezing them between his hands. “Alas, we’ll have no entertainments today. We must discuss your sister before you return to Paderau.”
Marissa stepped away from him, tugging the robe over her shoulders. The air vibrated with her anger, and thunderclouds gathered outside the open window, sparking bolts of light. His mug of ale shimmied on the desk, and the discarded plate fell, shattering on the floor.
Zakael glanced out the window and then back to her. A scowl crossed his handsome features, and his Shanti wrapped around her with a viciousness she rarely experienced. Although she was nearly as powerful as Lliandra, Zakael and his Dark Shanti were more powerful still. Remembering how easily he’d blocked her power the previous night, she pulled her Mari under control. The skies calmed with her breathing.
“Put aside your petty jealousy and see the Eirielle for what she can be to us.” His Dark Shanti slithered up her body; she shivered against her will. Zakael grabbed her roughly to him, his eyes a smoky haze. “Once we contr
ol her power, we control all of Aelinae.”
A goblet of wine appeared, and she took it, drinking from the murky red depths. A slight metallic taste lingered on her tongue. “I think your wine’s gone bad.” She placed the goblet on the table, but Zakael pressed it into her hands, raising it to her lips.
“Drink more. The taste grows on you.”
She tipped the goblet to her mouth and drank. The first sip slid over her tongue with the same metallic flavor, but the next was sweeter, mellower. Another followed by one more and the goblet was empty. She licked her lips, catching every drop.
“Better?” Zakael asked, taking the goblet from her.
“Much.” He pressed his mouth to hers, invading her as if he wanted to reclaim what she’d drunk. When he lifted his head from her, his eyes were glossy with desire.
“I’m glad you enjoyed my Eiric.”
Marissa’s heart stilled. He didn’t mean the wine. Couldn’t have meant that. “Last night? Immensely.”
“Mmm, last night, the wine. He makes an excellent breakfast sausage. Are you hungry?”
Marissa stepped back, her eyes tracking down to the spilled food. Zakael’s beasts panted not far from their master’s feet. A scrap of meat a hand’s width from their muzzles. The sickening white of a bone stuck out from under a massive paw.
“You killed him?”
“He served his purpose. Now,” he grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a shake, “are you ready to stop fucking around and do what needs to be done? This isn’t a game, Marissa. If we’re to rule Aelinae, we need to be ruthless. We cannot show compassion to our enemies or each other.”
She braced against the desk, noticing for the first time that his study was devoid of any artwork. No paintings hung on the walls; no decorative sculptures adorned the tabletops. The furniture was comfortable but not fashionable. A few tapestries hung from the ceiling to keep out drafts, but otherwise the room lacked any personal touches. Save for the wall of books on the far side of the room. The castle, like Zakael, was elegant in structure, but within was cold, efficient, and unrepentant.
She picked up her goblet, filled once more, and sniffed the vintage as she’d been taught to do. “This is a very fine reserve.” Her tongue licked the rim before she took a healthy sip.
Zakael grasped the edge of her gown and pulled her to him. “As I was saying, I have a plan for the Eirielle.”
MARISSA flew through the darkness, her thoughts a tempest. Their plan was dangerous. Dangerous and thrilling. His little game with Eiric taught her much more than he could’ve imagined, and she vowed to never let her feelings for Zakael jeopardize her own plans. Plans he could never know about. She’d given him her complete trust last night, but he’d given her something even more precious. Now she knew, even just a little compassion might kill her.
She buzzed with drunken excitement and careened to the left. After righting herself, she beat her wings to catch an updraft, concentrating on the spot of light before her. Paderau Palace was too well lit for that time of night. She cursed her luck that the duke would have a feast while she was gone.
She swept down from the sky, transforming before landing lightly in her hiding place. When she arrived at her rooms, the maids were in a panic.
“Your mother has come by three times this evening looking for you,” one of them said.
“I’m here now. Just fix my hair and be quick about it. And please, no chattering. I need silence.”
Within half a bell, Marissa was heading down the stairs to the Great Hall. When she saw Rhoane standing by himself, her stomach tightened and heat swept up her body.
“Your Highness.” She curtseyed her greeting, “It’s a lovely night. Would you accompany me in the garden?” She looked up at him, her eyes full of unspoken emotions, a smile on her lips.
“Marissa.” He bowed at the waist. “We were beginning to wonder what had become of you. Your maids said you were ill all day. But it seems you have recovered.”
“I thank you for your concern.” She held out her arm. “Shall we?”
“Not tonight.” His eyes were shrouded from her; she couldn’t read his emotions. She sent a small thread of Mari to his mind but found his thoughts blocked.
Swallowing her hurt, she forced a dazzling smile. “Of course, you must want to spend the evening with your betrothed.” She scanned the area. “Where is she, anyway?”
Rhoane nodded to his left. “She is there, with Sabina and her sisters.” His eyes lingered on Taryn with a look she longed to see reflected back at her.
“Why is it you are here and not with them? It seems to me that your beloved spends too much time with her friends.” She put her hand on his sleeve. “But then, they are young. I’m sure you don’t have much in common with them, what with their follies in the ocean and such. Children can be so tedious, don’t you think?”
A chill invaded the space between them. “Good evening, Princess.” He joined the others, taking Taryn’s hand in his, kissing her fingers before wandering off to speak with a few nobles.
Marissa watched him for several minutes, seething with anger. Lightning sparks lit up the clear night sky.
“Be careful of your emotions, Princess. They are evident in your beautiful eyes.”
“I’m certain I don’t know what you mean, Myrddin.” She cleared all thoughts of Rhoane from her mind. “I was simply taking in the night air.” She inhaled a deep breath. “I do so love the warm evenings this time of year, don’t you?”
He touched her raven curls. “They do make for wonderful flying weather. If you can avoid the lightning storms.” His fingers skimmed down her arm, lingering against her breast.
Her body ignited at the familiar touch. “Is that so?”
“I know you’ve been to see him. What news have you?”
“I’ve been abed all day. I only just started to feel better, so please don’t upset me.” She put a hand to her forehead. “I’m still quite delicate, you see?”
“Indeed. And while you were recuperating, someone tried to kill your sister.”
Marissa kept her features set, her face bland.
“Your absence has been noted. You should pay your respect to your mother and let her know you’re feeling better.”
“In a moment. The fresh air is doing me so much good.” Nadra’s tit, who would have the audacity to try to kill her sister? “Do you have a suspect for the attack?”
Myrddin’s gaze traveled the length of her.
He thought she was behind it? He was a bigger idiot than she’d guessed.
“None. Whoever it was, they were clumsy in their attempt, and fortunately, your sister is unharmed.” Myrddin nodded to the garden where Taryn sat with the other princesses. Celia was among them, speaking animatedly, hands flailing in the air to punctuate her words. “You might want to let her know you’re relieved she lives.”
“I will. Thank you for your sage advice.”
“Don’t linger long. The empress is waiting.” He shuffled off, touching her mind with an offer to visit her rooms later.
Unlike most men, Myrddin enjoyed the fact she had other lovers, often asking her to tell him of her encounters. The only reason she shared her bed with him was for those few moments when she could slip into his mind. Those were the times she could pluck out information her mother withheld.
Marissa strolled to the ladies and bade Taryn well, apologizing for the illness that kept her away for much of the day. Taryn’s concern for her health chafed Marissa. It was she who should’ve been worried about Taryn, but instead it was Taryn who worried about her. She inclined her head and graciously accepted her well wishes.
Celia followed Marissa when she left the others, muttering in a rush, “My lady, thank the stars you have returned. I had a terrible time explaining your absence. What do you think of the attack?”
“I don’t know what to think of it. Were you there?”
“No, but the entire palace was secured for the remainder of the day. I’m surprised
the duke had dinner tonight.”
“He’s showing his enemies Taryn cannot be broken.”
Celia told her the details of the day’s events, trying Marissa’s patience with her long-winded account. When she had everything she needed, she tucked her lady’s hand in her own, silencing the gossip. “Stay with me a while.”
“As you wish, Your Highness.”
Marissa entered the garden room and curtseyed low to Lliandra, nodding to the women surrounding her. “Mother, I was told you’ve been concerned for my welfare. I thank you. As you can see, I’ve nearly recovered.”
“Please, Marissa, join us. You too, Lady Celia. We were just discussing the upcoming Harvest. Tell me, what are your thoughts on the matter?”
Marissa sipped her wine with an inward groan. She didn’t give a fig about Harvest or the ridiculous festival they had each year, but it was one of her sisters’ favorites. Each season Lliandra tried to outdo the previous festival with booths and games and nonsense that irritated the crown princess. She did, however, find it curious her mother didn’t mention the assassin.
Much later, after several glasses of wine and not enough food, Marissa slouched against a wall in Lliandra’s rooms, being berated for her foolhardy trip to the West. Despite the fact she was old enough to make decisions for herself, Lliandra demanded she be alerted if Marissa left the palace, especially if she were going to see Zakael. That her trip coincided with an attempt on Taryn’s life cast doubt on the crown princess, something Lliandra had spent much of the day subverting.
When it looked like Lliandra’s rant wouldn’t abate for some time, Marissa slumped into a chair. “Please, I’m exhausted. You and those crones rattled on for bells about nonsense. My head hurts, and I need sleep. Can’t we continue this in the morning?”
Lliandra grabbed a handful of Marissa’s hair, pulling her head back. “We will discuss it now. Need I remind you that I am still the empress and you do as I command?” She released her, but not before giving another tug. “What happened at Gaarendahl? What did you discuss?”
The Stones of Kaldaar (Song of the Swords Book 1) Page 39
