by Autumn Dawn
Keilor closed his eyes for a moment, then sighed in frustration. “Jasmine.”
She looked at him expectantly. She’d never seen him so tense, and she braced for the worse. “Yes?”
“Knightin is not dead. We have him in custody.” When the blood drained out of her face, he took her hand and knelt at her side. “Easy. He can’t hurt you now.”
A vision of an exploding head colored her vision, and she swallowed bile. “His head—”
“That wasn’t him,” Keilor reassured her. “But he has given us no useful information, and right now we need detailed, accurate facts. You could help us with that, if you’re willing.” At her mystified look, he explained, “You could command him to speak, to tell us what we wish to know.”
Misery settled over Jasmine’s expression. She’d thought she’d left that sort of thing behind her when she’d married him. Do I have to? Her expression said, but out loud she answered, “I guess so.”
He was silent for a moment, and then he touched her cheek. “I’m sorry.”
Keilor did not like taking her here, to the interrogation room on the prison level. It went against his every instinct to expose her to this white-walled dungeon, even if, with the exception of Knightin, she’d never see the prisoners.
Knightin was already manacled to a chair when they entered the bare room, and before he could register his danger, Jasmine did as she’d been instructed, saying quickly, “Don’t turn to Haunt.”
Knightin blinked at her.
Flanked by Jayems and her husband, Jasmine sat down in the chair across the table from Knightin and studied him for a moment. His long red hair was unkempt, hanging loose around his shoulders, and his face sported the beginnings of a beard and fading bruises, but his blue eyes held a startling lucidity.
She cleared her throat. “Tell us the names of those who’ve worked with you against my family.” Obediently he began to rattle off a list of names. Jasmine watched him for nearly a minute. “He’s lying.”
“How can he be?” Keilor asked, sending her a sharp look. “He’s not mated.”
“Look at his eyes. No dilation,” Jasmine insisted, even as Keilor started swearing. Jayems called for a guard and began questioning him, but Jasmine barely paid attention. “Who’s the girl?” she asked, looking into Knightin’s mocking face.
He blew her an air kiss.
“Enough of this.” Keilor took her arm and assisted Jasmine out of her chair. A medic entered the room with a syringe and Keilor subtly maneuvered so that the instrument was out of her sight. “Call me when you need me,” he told Jayems, leading her out the door.
Jasmine craned her neck to get another look at the needle, but Keilor hurried her on and the guards shut the door behind them. “What was that?” she asked, a sick feeling in her gut.
“Truth serum,” Keilor answered, never slowing in his brisk walk.
“Why didn’t you just use that before?” Jasmine asked, puzzled. “Why bother with me?”
His nostrils flared, just a bit. “It’s clumsy, as well as fatal. He might not have given us the information we needed before he expired.”
Jasmine froze in her tracks. “You’re going to kill him?”
“It is what we do with traitors and murderers,” he told her without a hint of remorse.
Shivering, she allowed him to lead her out of the prison level and into the sunlight. Then she broke away and jogged towards a bench set up in a nearby grove of orange trees. Her bottom connected with a silent thump as she sat down and hid her face in her hands.
The general public did not see condemned men in the society that had raised her. She’d always believed in the code ‘an eye for an eye’, but seeing that code in execution brought death much closer to home than it had ever been before. Even her near-death in the swamps had been a dreamy, almost peaceful thing. The stark walls and ugly needle she’d just witnessed were no dream.
A vision of Keilor’s sword came to mind, and her breath hitched and came much faster than it should have, making her dizzy. He’d been in a war. He’d spoken of killing, but she’d never connected his words with the vision of carnage spilling into her mind at that moment. Blood on sparkling steel, blood everywhere...or would the wounds be cauterized by the energy blades? Then there would only be piles of mangled bodies....
“Come on, Dragonfly,” Keilor coaxed, pulling her into his arms and giving her a quick kiss. “Come let me distract you.” He was naked, and it was evident by the gleam in his eye how he intended to divert her.
“No way.” Jasmine crossed her arms and stared her naked husband down.
Keilor tilted his head and eyed her with mischievous intent, completely oblivious to his state of undress. “You think not?”
Licking her lips, she forced her gaze away from her mouth-watering lover and eyed the secluded pool in the middle of the orchard. Countless pink and white blossoms scented the air, almost drugging in their pleasurable fragrance. “I am not getting caught with my pants down in public, thank you very much.” She glanced at his delectable body again. “No matter how tempting you make it,” she muttered under her breath.
He threw his head back and laughed, advancing on her with playful menace, his long hair sliding across his powerful shoulders. “Surrender or be taken.” he warned and pounced, tickling her breathless as he stripped her down to pink skin.
“Keilor!” she shrieked and squealed as he picked her up and jumped into the cool water, causing a miniature tidal wave. “Yiiee!” She tried to climb up his shoulders, but he distracted her with a kiss and dropped her.
The war was on.
Tripping him or dragging Keilor under the shallow water proved impossible, and splashing only provoked him to send a deluge in her direction. Summarily defeated, she crossed her arms over her breasts, sank down in the water, and glowered at him. “You’re no fun.”
One dark brow rose. “No?” he inquired and waded closer, stopping with his better parts inches from her nose. “None at all?” Gently he stroked her slicked back hair, rubbing himself across her cheek.
Jasmine became an instant convert to the sport of skinny dipping.
Much later, after she’d helped Keilor wash the grass stains off of his back and they’d dressed, Jasmine asked, “Where is your parent’s memorial?”
Keilor hesitated in the act of buckling on his sword belt. “It is not far, a short walk. Would you like to see it?”
Surprised at his almost diffident manner, she hesitated a moment and then nodded. “If that’s okay with you.”
“I would be honored.” A smile in his eyes, he offered her his arm. After they’d walked a little while in silence, he said, “I’ve never taken a woman to see them. No one has ever been interested before.”
“Well,” she demurred, “You’ve never had a wife before.”
“I was engaged, once, a long time ago,” he said, surprising her. “She never asked to see them.”
“Oh.” The rest of the walk was made in silence.
The memorial was one among many in a lovely plot of mossy ground. It was nothing more than an obelisk of polished granite with a plaque, but Keilor caressed the stone with tenderness and a hint of longing. “My father, Dais, my mother Jacqueline and my brothers, Ellis and Mick. My mother was pregnant with my little sister, but she never had a name.”
Jasmine took his hand and kissed it. “I’ve always liked the name Rain.”
His brows shot up. “You wish to name her?” he asked, as if the idea had never occurred to him.
She shrugged. “Why not? It beats calling her baby, doesn’t it?”
A wry smile twisted his lips, and he inclined his head to her. “Rain it is.” He pulled her to him, resting his hand against her stomach, holding her close.
His life had come full circle.
Keilor had further business to attend to that afternoon, so Jasmine decided to pay Rihlia another visit. Heaven knew she must be bored out of her gourd being cooped up in bed so much.
Rih
lia’s mother, Lady Rhapsody, was just leaving as Jasmine arrived, and she looked relieved to see her. “Jasmine, dear, you’re just the person I needed to see,” she said, taking Jasmine’s hands. “I am so worried about my daughter. Could you spare a little time to take some tea with me? There are some things I’d like to discuss with you.”
“Uh, sure,” Jasmine agreed, pulling her hands discreetly from Rhapsody’s cold, dry grasp. She’d never been comfortable around the stately older lady, something she’d attributed to the aura of royalty that cloaked her. But, hey, if she was worried about Rihlia, Jasmine would be glad to give her all the help she could. “Lead the way,” she invited with a sweep of her hand.
The suite of rooms that belonged to Rhapsody were very close by, and within a minute Jasmine was entering the main living quarters. It was very...white.
Snow white walls broken only by crystal framed pictures of family members held a room full of ivory wood and white upholstery. The carpet was white. A regimented row of white statue-topped pedestals marched along the walls.
Jasmine felt as if she’d stepped inside a snowball. It was not a comfortable sensation.
Rhapsody directed her to sit in one of the wing chairs while she prepared the tea, and Jasmine twiddled her thumbs and eyed her colorless environment, trying not to shiver. Oh, what she’d give for a bucket of paint and a few brightly woven Indian blankets. Naughty thoughts of redecoration schemes involving stuffed moose heads, loud slip covers and a few busts of Elvis kept her occupied until Rhapsody returned with the tea tray bearing unadorned white china. Come to think of it, she was wearing white today as well.
I bet I can guess your favorite color, Jasmine thought, biting her tongue so she wouldn’t say it. She might have grown up a hooligan, but she still had a healthy respect for her elders. “Thank you,” she said instead, accepting the scalding cup of tea and setting it on her saucer to cool. “So what’s on your mind?” she inquired as Rhapsody made herself comfortable in the chair opposite the tea table.
Looking a little surprised at Jasmine’s disregard for the formalities of polite chatter, Rhapsody folded her hands in her lap and surveyed her guest. “I am concerned with my daughter’s despondency. She has been very emotional since the attack, and I can not seem to make her open up to me.”
Jasmine raised her thumbs and shrugged her right shoulder. “Well, there’s your problem right there. You don’t make Rih do anything. Nobody does.”
A hint of coolness slipped into Rhapsody’s voice. “She responds well enough for Jayems.”
Staring at the colorless tea set, Jasmine laced her fingers together over her stomach and twiddled her thumbs. “Granted, but there’s elements there that you just can’t duplicate.”
“She loves him, is that it?”
One look at Rhapsody’s tight lips was enough to convince Jasmine that she was on shaky ground. “I’m sure that she cares for you, too.”
It was the wrong thing to say.
“Platitudes will not serve me.”
Sucking her bottom lip in, Jasmine suppressed a shiver as her hostess took on the unyielding nature of one of her statues. If she’d ever harbored any doubts that Rihlia’s mother disliked her, they were all wiped away in that instant.
Stalling for time, she dipped a finger in her too hot tea, started to raise it to her lips and then froze. She reached for her bone white napkin and carefully wiped her finger clean, and it was not because she’d suddenly remembered her manners.
The tea was poisoned.
She sat back, staring at Rihlia’s mother for a long moment. Finally she said, “It’s a bit harder to poison a human when she’s wearing one of these.” She raised her clenched right fist, the back of her knuckles facing her would-be murderess, and the symbiont flashed with silver anger. It was comfortable, fat and happy, and it did not like threats to its tasty hostess. It had been the one to sense the danger and send a warning tingle of awareness to Jasmine.
The change came so quickly that Jasmine almost missed Rhapsody’s shift from human to other. There was barely time to register shock at the sight of a white Haunt before she leapt for Jasmine’s throat, claws bared.
There was no time to leap away.
The force of the dive took both Jasmine and the chair over backwards, shattering china and splashing poisoned tea on the way.
Keilor’s friends had been even better teachers than Jasmine had realized. Without thought, Jasmine’s body braced for the fall even as her legs came up to shove Rhapsody off with surprising force. The white Haunt went flying, and Jasmine just made it to her feet before Rhapsody rushed her again. Forced to act, Jasmine sidestepped and slashed at Rhapsody with the three long knuckle-claws her symbiont formed, and the Haunt hissed as three raw wounds opened across her arm and abdomen, leaving the white gown hanging in tatters.
Hammering started at the heavy door.
“That’s two,” Jasmine warned her grimly, blocking out the sound as an irritation that could cost her life. Mathin would have had her head for such hesitation, but dang it, she’d never taken a life before, and she didn’t want to start with her best friend’s mother.
“Don’t make me kill you,” she grated, her voice raw. For her child’s sake, she couldn’t afford to hesitate again.
Rhapsody’s lip curled, and a frightening madness flashed in her eyes as she charged.
The symbiont flashed as Jasmine struck back, aiming for the white Haunt’s stomach. A split second later her adversary was clutching her stomach, trying in vain to hold in the spill of intestines. Blood ran down her legs, a spreading crimson stain on the white carpet.
The door burst open, and the Haunt barely checked before coming to Rhapsody’s aid. One rough hand closed over Jasmine’s right biceps just as her eyes rolled back in her head and her knees buckled.
Unfortunately, her faint lasted less than ten seconds, and she came to just in time to be hit full in the nose by the smell of slaughter. Dazed, she found herself on her knees beside the steaming body, emptying her guts. The blood from the carpet soaked onto her hands, and with a whimper, she crawled two feet away, pressing her swimming head to her forearm, waiting for the surging darkness to stop.
“Here,” someone said, grabbing her hair and coaxing her head up. Raziel wiped her mouth with a damp napkin. “What happened?”
“Poisoned tea,” she stammered, so softly that no one else heard. He let her go and went to collect a sample from the wreckage around the tea table.
The next few minutes were a confusion of raised voices, screams and accusations as Rhapsody’s sister arrived on the scene and started demanding explanations and Jasmine’s execution.
“She killed her! How can you just stand there!” Lady Portae shrieked, kneeling at the body of her sister, who would forever remain in Haunt. “Do something!”
Jasmine hid her face in her hands, forgetting the blood until she’d smeared it all over her face.
“What happened?”
Jasmine looked up at the sound of Keilor’s stern, concerned voice. His lips tightened at the sight of sight of her pale, blood smeared face and contracted pupils. He’d already heard Raziel’s report and sent him off with a sample of the tea, but he needed more details. “What happened?” he asked again, more gently.
Jasmine looked up, saw Rihlia’s stricken face, and her throat closed over the words. How could she tell her best friend that her mother had tried to kill her, twice? Instead, she closed her eyes and bent her head, trying to will her ears shut. The sound of Portae’s shrill voice faded as somebody dragged her off. Silence roared in the white room.
“Talk to me, Jasmine,” Keilor said again, a hint of fear for her in his commanding tone. “Tell us what happened.”
“Nothing,” she whispered and winced. Those weren’t the words that she needed, were nothing close to what he wanted from her, and she knew it.
Forcing her chin up, he stared into her eyes, giving her head a little shake when her wild eyes darted to the tense Jayems and p
ale, bright-eyed Rihlia.
“I am in charge of justice, here, wife, and you will tell me what happened. I want the truth from you, and I want it now. What happened here?”
A low groan escaped her at his compelling command, and she wrenched her bloody face away, trying to escape his will.
He stood up, looked at her and circled the room, studying the furniture. “You sat here, didn’t you?” he asked with implacable purpose, pointing to the overturned chair. “It carries your scent.” She nodded, biting her lip. Wariness churned inside her, but it wasn’t a betrayal to answer questions whose answers he already knew, was it?
Cocking his head, he studied the overturned table and tea service, his face thoughtful, dangerous. “The direction that this table is tipped in tells me that Rhapsody leapt over it to get at you, likely knocking the chair over at the same time.” He moved closer until he was standing over the footstool that she’d scrambled up on, looking down at her scared face. “What made her do that, wife?”
Jasmine closed her eyes, shutting him out, trying to ignore the way he kept calling her wife, reminding her of his intimate authority over her. “She just did.”
He stared at her, the fathomless darkness in his eyes weighting her, making it difficult to breathe. “Before or after you brought up the poisoned tea?”
“It wa—” she snapped her mouth shut, choking off the denial. She couldn’t lie to him. But what could she say that wouldn’t hurt her friend?
It didn’t matter. He drew his own conclusions anyway. His expression savage, Keilor glanced at Jayems. “Are you satisfied with what went on for the moment, Lord Jayems? I can bring you more information after I question....” he trailed off for a moment, considered Jasmine, and finished, “The witness.”
“But—” Rihlia tried to break in, bewildered.
Jayems cut her off. “Go,” he said, jerking his head towards the door. “I will deal with the rest here.”
He said nothing on the way back to their rooms, but the moment Keilor opened the door, he rounded on her, hissing, “Are you trying to get yourself killed, woman? Is that what you want?”
