by Heidi Hanley
Briana was speechless at this unexpected compliment from her mentor.
Before she could respond, the blonde boy darted from behind the vendor. Now she saw more than youthful curiosity in his oceanic eyes. “Sigel,” she called, letting her tone indicate the potential threat. Dara, sensing her anxiety, moved closer to her.
Sigel was at her side in an instant, his eyes going dark and dangerous as he scanned the location for whatever had troubled her. She quickly explained her concern. A second later, she and Cailleach were surrounded and hustled out of the market.
When Sigel and Sir Thomas joined the group along the road, they reported that the boy could not be found. The local militia would continue the search as they headed back to the mansion.
“Maybe I overreacted, but there was something off about that kid,” said Briana. “He seemed to be everywhere I was and the last time he looked like he meant to cause trouble.”
“The crows are on high alert, as well as the rest of the staff. He won’t penetrate Winge Mansion.”
Dinner that evening went on as though nothing happened. Everyone dressed formally and shared brandies in the salon before sitting at the dining room to eat their way through oysters on the half shell, Beef Stroganoff, molded salad, and pudding. She noticed Sigel declined the offer of a whiskey after dinner, odd, as he generally enjoyed the nightcap.
“Are you worried about the boy?” she asked him.
“No one in Derryfeeny recognized his description. If he’s not local and he’s interested in you, then he has to be working directly for Shamwa.”
She could tell there was more he wanted to say. “What is it, Sigel? What else?”
“Probably nothing, but the groomsmen reported seeing some unusual tracks before dinner. They haven’t found anyone yet to account for them. You’ll be guarded well tonight, milady.”
She nodded. “I’m not worried. I feel overprotected anyway. At least this time, it’s with good reason. And Sigel, I appreciate being told this information.”
“I debated whether or not to tell you, but the simple fact is, for all intents and purposes, you are the queen and you have not only the right to know, but the authority to determine what’s done about any developments.”
They shared a look that said the storm between them was over. Briana’s shoulders relaxed and she yawned. “The day must be catching up with me. I think I’ll go up to bed.”
Sigel followed her up to guard her for the first half of the night.
Claire bustled about in her room arranging things for the morning. Briana would never get over the awkwardness of this ritual. Her night clothes were laid out on the bed. Claire waited, ready to help her change.
“Thanks, Claire. I can manage from here. I’ve been dressing and undressing myself since I was three. I would prefer to continue the practice, but I promise I won’t hesitate to ask for your help with some of the more difficult gowns. Fair enough?” She smiled warmly, trying to reassure the young girl that she’d done nothing wrong. Claire smiled back, relaxing.
“I’m happy to help you with anything you like. So you don’t need me anymore tonight?” The girl couldn’t quite hide the yawn trying to escape her mouth.
“No, thank you. Go on to bed, Claire. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Once the girl was gone, Briana changed into the light cotton nightgown and pulled her map out, checking it again. Silas was in the mountains near Poet’s Gap. There was no indication of anything unusual around Winge Mansion. She set Nuada beside her bed, just in case. Briana crawled into bed, blew out the candle and slipped into a dozing sleep. She tossed and turned, had a strange montage of dreams that involved images of Lord Shamwa, her mother, Banrion and of course, Silas.
Silas. She awoke to a storm outside. Rain lashed at the window and occasional flashes of lightning momentarily bathed the room in eerie silvery light. Her body hummed with desire from chest to groin. She lay still, willing the throb away, but it would not be ignored. Her body was asking for Silas. She got up and walked around the room in the dark, but the ache grew more insistent. Sliding back into bed, curling on her side and matching her heartbeat to the rhythm of the rain, she called to him.
Are you awake?
I am now. Are you okay?
Yes, but…
Briana, are you all right?
I was only wondering what the limits to our telepathy are? Are we only allowed to be friends or can we be lovers?
Oh. That’s an interestin’ question. Since I’ve never had this experience before, I don’t know, but if you’re thinkin’ what I think you are, there are two sides to that coin. On the one hand…
Silas, I wasn’t looking for an essay.
You want to see what happens if we make love in our heads?
I’ve felt you touch me before, telepathically.
But we’d still be breaking the rules, he said.
I don’t think the same rules apply if it’s just in our minds. We can’t get caught and no one gets hurt.
Perhaps not right away, but what about…
Silas, can you please stop talking and just touch me?
A few seconds passed before she felt arms reaching around her. A strong, warm hand curved to her breast, sending shock waves through to her sensitive core. Two soft moans, one from either side of the veil, echoed into the darkness. Light squeezing and stroking only increased the ache below. His hand slid to her belly, caressing, making small circles around her navel and lower. She groaned, on fire for him. She moved back against him, feeling his strength against her back.
So nice, he whispered into her ear.
Oh, Maker, Silas. That feels so…
Her door opened, and light from a candle spilled into the room.
No, she thought desperately, please not now, please not now.
“Briana, wake up! We need you downstairs,” said Sigel.
She groaned, apologized to Silas, and rose from the bed.
She donned a robe on and grabbed Nua before following Sigel to confront whatever catastrophe had now occurred.
Sir Thomas joined them in the hallway. Sigel told them the grooms had found one of Shamwa’s men lurking around the stables. They captured him and brought him to the house. Halfway down the staircase, Sigel stopped. Turning to Briana he said, “With the king incapacitated, you’re in charge, Briana. You’ll decide on his behalf what’s to be done.”
“I don’t know the king. How would I know what he would do?”
“Briana, this is going to be your kingdom. Now would be a marvelous time to start thinking about how to run it. Come on then; let’s go. And for Maker’s sake, think like a queen.”
Think like a queen. Right. Raising Nua, she took a deep breath. Okay, my friend, protect us from those who would harm us this night.
She strode down the stairs, with her robe askew. Her hair floated around her, and Nua flashed in her hands, like some wild Boudicca. Dara stood next to her, adding an extra measure of menace. Somewhere between the twenty-fifth stair and the library, she became the warrior-queen who killed men near fortress ruins. She was prepared to do whatever was necessary. Already in the room stood Cailleach, Lady Isabella, the stable grooms and the intruder.
Whatever she’d imagined, it was not the dirty young boy who stood defiantly in front of her, hands held securely behind him by one stable groom, while a second groom held an axe, presumably the boy’s weapon. The boy from Derryfeeny! A wild cap of curly blonde hair framed sea-green eyes. He had barely enough facial hair to shave, couldn’t be more than fourteen. His small frame was no match for the stable hands, never mind a real warrior. “He’s only a child,” she muttered to Sigel under her breath. Her spirit tryst with Silas was interrupted for this?
“A child wielding a battle-axe,” he reminded her.
She took a breath and thought three things. First, she should not let his angelic appearance pull at her heartstrings. He was in a place he shouldn’t be, with a weapon he shouldn’t have. Second, it would be just like Sha
mwa to try and fake her out with a cute young boy. For all she knew, this might be Shamwa cloaked in a charm. Third, even if he was just a boy, what she did next would determine his fate. She could order him killed as a threat to the kingdom, or try and turn him around to their side. In either case, she needed to be strong and regal, and appear prepared to kill him.
He looked around at everyone but her, his eyes flashing murderously, lips clamped shut.
She walked closer to stand in front of him. “What’s your name, boy?”
He said nothing.
“Are you able to speak?”
“He spoke plenty, out there by the horses, where we caught him,” a groom said. “I think he knows every curse word from every village in Uisneach.”
She took the boy’s jaw firmly in her hands and lifted his head to face her. His green eyes were mesmerizing. With a slight shake of her head, she refocused. “I’ll ask one more time. What… is… your… name?”
Still, he held out.
“So that’s how you want to play, huh?” She took a step back, whipped Nua up and pointed it at his chest, its steel flashing in the candlelight. Several gasps issued around the room. “I’ve killed men with this sword and I will not hesitate to kill you, if you don’t start being a little more cooperative.”
For the first time, she detected fear in his eyes, which eliminated one possibility in her mind. He was not the evil prime minister in disguise. Shamwa would never show fear. Moving one step closer to him, she repeated in a more menacing tone, “What… is… your… name?”
He swallowed. “Jonathan Stark.”
She narrowed her eyes. “A fine name for a small boy.”
Eyes blazing, he thrust his jaw out. “I’m not a boy! I’ve passed my sixteenth birthday.”
“Yeah, right, and I’m the Queen of England.”
He looked at her, confused. The rest of the household was speechless. Sir Thomas was trying to hide a smile. She turned and winked at him. “Sir Thomas, bring me a chair, please.”
She pulled it extremely close to the boy and sat down, laying Nua in her lap, her hand tight to the hilt, letting the Stark boy believe she would run it through his chest in an instant. She pulled his face up to hers and stared hard at him, forcing him to meet her eyes. Like magic, a change came over the boy and he became malleable. The defiant edge was replaced with awe. She began the interrogation again.
“What were you doing out by the stables?”
“I wanted to see if the Mouse was here?”
“Why?”
“Lord Shamwa gave me some money to spy on her. Are you the Mouse?” he asked, his tone now full of boyish curiosity.
“I am the Queen of Uisneach.” Or I guess I will be, she thought. “Where did you get the axe and what did you intend to do with it?”
“It’s my father’s.” He puffed up. “I was going to kill whoever I needed to, if they got in my way.”
“Is that right? That doesn’t seem to have worked out too well for you.” His stomach growled. Her eyes narrowed again. “When was the last time you ate?”
“I’m not sure, a couple of days ago, I guess. So what?”
“Did you work for Shamwa before this job?”
“Why do you care?”
“Is he nice to you?”
He made a rude noise. “He isn’t nice to anyone.”
She sat back and let him stew as she purposefully stared at him, as though considering his fate. She turned to Sir Thomas. “The prudent thing would be to execute him.”
“Quite right, Your Majesty. That would, indeed, be the sensible thing. Would you like to do it yourself, or shall I order Ivan do it?” He directed his look at Sigel.
Sigel growled menacingly.
Oh, sir, well played, she thought. Sigel did, in fact, present a terrifying figure.
Briana fingered Nua, letting the blade slice a thin line of red along her finger. The boy flinched, as intended. She sucked the blood from her finger. “What do you think, Mr. Stark, should I do it, or let the monster, Ivan? He loves killing things, but he does it more slowly than I would.”
“Would you be willing to negotiate?”
It dawned on her that this young man’s language and demeanor were reasonably cultured, indicating a good education. “Who are your parents?”
“None of your business.”
He’s protecting them. She wondered what his big secret was. “What could you possibly offer us?” Her look spoke volumes about his chances of survival.
“I’ll tell you what you want to know about Lord Shamwa.”
She exchanged a surprised glance with Sir Thomas. “That might be worth something. Perhaps I won’t let Ivan kill you, then.”
“Could I work for you?”
“You would turn traitor to Shamwa? What kind of loyalty is that? How would I ever trust you?”
“No one works for Lord Shamwa out of loyalty. If you are the queen, then that means you are the Mouse, and that means you might be able to save King Brath and do something about what’s going on in Uisneach.”
She leaned back in her chair, impressed with this boy-man. Apparently thinking his chances had improved, he relaxed and now stared at her with the appraising eye of a pubescent boy. She glanced down and noticed the slightest hint of chest peeking above her ribboned nightgown. It doesn’t take much at that age, she thought. Or maybe this nightgown, which she considered frumpy, was racy by his standards.
Briana rose and walked over to stand next to Sir Thomas. “I’ll give it some thought. Put the boy in a locked room under guard.”
Color flushed Jonathan’s cheeks as he his gaze swept boldly up and down Briana’s body before meeting her eyes. “I’m willing to make the deal, but I am not a boy, and I wish you’d quit calling me one.”
Ignoring the comment, she nodded to Sir Thomas, who nodded to his groomsmen. They hustled the boy out of the room.
When they were alone, Sir Thomas bowed to her. “Blimey, I wouldn’t have missed that performance for the world! Briana, you never cease to amaze me. King Brath himself couldn’t have handled it any better. Perhaps you’ll make a good queen, yet.”
Cailleach clucked her tongue at Sir Thomas. “She already is a fine queen.” She gave Briana a look that sent a shiver all the way down Briana’s spine.
A bit unnerved by Cailleach’s proud reaction and uncertain if she could live up to the admiration she secretly wanted, Briana turned aside for a moment. “Well now, if your queen is just able to plan meals and make sure the chamber pots are emptied, all will be well in Uisneach.”
“And direct the lady’s maids,” said Lady Isabella, with a twinkle in her eyes. “Don’t forget all the maids.”
“How could I,” she responded, grinning. She was becoming fond of Lady Isabella. “Thank you all. Shall we dress for Round Two? Do you have anything that looks formidable, my lord?”
“Indeed I do.”
Briana smiled. “Excellent. Lady Isabella, could you impose on Mrs. Churchill to whip up something for us to eat? This has been a long night.” She glanced out the window. Maker, it’s already past dawn. “We need food, and he needs to stew for a little while.”
“Consider it done, Your Majesty.”
Sir Thomas, Lady Isabella, and Cailleach left. Briana fell into a chair and held her hands over her face for a moment. I did it. I really did it. I sounded pretty queenly, didn’t I? She grinned like a fool. Don’t get too cocky, Queen B, she reminded herself. This was just the warm up; the main event hasn’t even begun.
Sigel urged her back to her room for a short rest before breakfast. The rain had stopped, but the air was still heavy with energy and heat. Briana removed her robe and went to the balcony. She reflected on this young man who had so bravely, if foolishly, been stalking her. There was something special about him. He’s going to play an important role in Uisneach’s story.
She returned inside and lay down on her bed for a moment.
Everything all right?
She smiled. Ev
erything is fine. Long story… tell you later. The queen still has some work to do.
Oh? She felt a soft brush against her cheek and an arm around her waist. Light stroking on her hip.
Mmmm… nice. Reaching a long leg lazily down, her foot caressed another foot on the other side of spirit.
Tell Her Majesty that her man awaits her pleasure. Don’t work too hard, a mhuirnin.
Briana smiled. Then sighed. He wasn’t her man, was he? The longer they pretended he could be, the worse it would hurt when they had to stop.
An hour later, when Jonathan Stark was brought into a windowless, cold, prison-like room, it was the warrior-queen he saw, dressed in leather pants, a belted linen tunic and knee-high boots, with Nua strapped to her side. The room was lined with crows who had shapeshifted to human form for the occasion and stood as silent sentries, their black sabers flashing in the candlelight. Sir Thomas was equally intimidating in his dark perfection, as was Sigel, dressed in battle gear, hair pulled back to expose the scar on his face. His sword hung at his side, but it was the boy’s own battle-axe that he held crossed in front of his chest. Cailleach stood by to ferret out any potential charms or spells in the boy or his story.
The boy was shoved into a chair next to a table. His gaze travelled around the room. He swallowed hard.
“Mr. Stark.” She straightened her own spine for the interrogation. It wasn’t easy, when his angelic looks made her want to smile.
He glared at her. “You locked me up.”
“Of course I did. You’re a prisoner of King Brath.”
“King Brath is a prisoner himself; how can I be his prisoner?”
“His state of incapacitation is no reflection on his authority as the ruler of Uisneach. I’m acting on his behalf.”
Briana nodded to the woman who stood in the doorway. She entered the room silently, as instructed, and placed the boy’s breakfast in front of him.
“Eat,” Briana commanded.
The boy glanced suspiciously at the food, and then at each adult in the room. His stomach growled. He bit his lip.
