by Peace, Cas
“Brynne ….”
Jinny faltered. Sullyan turned to face her, sending silent encouragement. Jinny had no innate Artesan talent, though she had sometimes shown intuition above normal levels. Sullyan was sure there were times when Jinny felt the power of the Artesan.
The Baroness took a breath and rushed into speech. “Brynne, how intimately do you know Taran?”
Sullyan raised her brows. The tack of the question had taken her by surprise. She took care over her answer. She and Jinny had not always shared an easy relationship, as Jinny had seen her as a rival for Taran’s affections.
“I am not sure exactly what you mean. I know Taran Elijah very well. You know that we, as Artesans, can hold no secrets from each other. I know the wishes of his heart and I know the depth of his love and commitment. But there are aspects of his life that are closed to me. We do not seek to invade each other’s privacy.”
Jinny closed her eyes. “I’m being clumsy. I’m not really sure how to ask what I want to know.”
Sullyan regarded her. “I can see you are troubled. Does it concern your relationship with Taran?”
Jinny nodded. “Oh, this is so difficult! I’ve wanted to ask you … ask someone … but I wasn’t going to do it right now. I’ve been unhappy for a while, but this lovely picnic isn’t the right time. But I was watching the children, and I was thinking about something Taran said to me earlier.”
Sullyan’s enquiring expression encouraged Jinny to continue.
“Taran told me he was sad your tour of duty was over and that you and Morgan would be leaving tomorrow. He’s so enjoyed his mentoring duties, and he’s so good with Morgan, and it made me realize what a good … what a …” Jinny gulped down a sob.
Sullyan’s voice was soothing. “Just say it, Jinny.”
The younger woman took hold of her courage and blurted, “Do you happen to know if Taran has ever fathered a child?”
Sullyan’s eyes widened in surprise. “What a strange question.” She hesitated before replying, “Not to my knowledge, although I doubt it very much. Rienne could answer you better than I. She has known Taran much longer. But Taran is too honorable to risk an unwanted pregnancy, and if he had fathered a child he would have taken responsibility for it.”
Jinny hung her head, her face pale. “Yes, I thought you’d say that,” she whispered. “It must be me.”
“What must be you?” Sullyan asked the question although she already knew the answer.
“I think I must be barren,” Jinny murmured, “or else I would have conceived by now. We’ve not exactly been restrained in our relationship. We’ve had ample chances to make a child over the past three years, but nothing’s happened. And I’m so afraid he won’t want me if I can’t give him children. Do you think that’s why he’s never asked me to marry him?”
Sullyan caught Jinny’s tearful gaze. “Has he ever said so? Has he ever discussed having a family with you?”
Jinny shook her head sadly, causing Sullyan to purse her lips in annoyance. Damn Taran and his honor!
She became aware of Jinny’s hopeful look and her heart turned cold. She was afraid she knew what the girl was going to ask her now, and her guess proved correct.
“Brynne, could you use your powers to tell me whether I could ever bear a child? I know I have no gift myself, but Taran says you can … touch … someone ungifted provided they’re willing. And I really do want to know.”
Sullyan cursed Taran for the second time that day, and wondered how she could let Jinny down gently without hurting her feelings or telling her an outright lie. Sullyan knew very well why Jinny had not conceived, and her opinion of Taran was undergoing a swift revision. How could he let her believe this? How could he not have told her?
She was spared the necessity of answering Jinny by a sudden rush as noisy children converged on them, throwing themselves down on the blanket, their pleading cries loud in the winter air. The fencing bout had ended in the usual way, with the contrived win of Elias and Tad, and now Prince Eadan and Princess Seline demanded their prize: the thrill of watching Sullyan fence with—and defeat—both King Elias and Tad at the same time.
Sullyan was tugged to her feet by her overexcited son. She extended her hand for the practice foil held out by Eadan. She saw Jinny’s hopeful look turn mournful and gave the girl what truth and cheer she could.
“I could not promise that using my powers in the way you have asked would tell you what you want to know, Jinny, but one thing I will promise you. I will speak with Taran Elijah about what you have said. Try not to concern yourself. This matter will be resolved.”
She was dragged away by the yelling children, and the air was once more filled with raucous cheers and screams of encouragement as she proved herself yet again one of the most skilled swordmasters Albia had ever seen.
Chapter Three
The cold dark of evening had descended once more, but it was warm and pleasant in Elias’s private dining hall. Twin fires crackled merrily in their hearths at opposite ends of the large room. Candles and lamps mellowed the air while decorative tapestries and heavy drapes kept out the winter chill. The cloudless day had given way to rapidly falling temperatures and it was a widely held opinion more snow was on the way.
The room buzzed with conversation above the soft playing of the minstrels, although there was an undercurrent of sadness beneath the jokes and stories. Sullyan was aware of the King casting her wistful looks across the table and resolutely refrained from catching his eye. She would speak with him later when, no doubt, she would be forced to refuse yet again his heartfelt plea to remain in the castle.
There was a good crowd in the King’s private rooms, as it pleased him to entertain those who were leaving his immediate service to return to the Manor. By surrounding himself with as many friends as possible, Elias strove to hold off the depressed loneliness that had haunted him since his wife’s betrayal. They might not have shared an intimate marriage, but Elias had always trusted her loyalty. Discovering how deeply she despised him, and how thoroughly he had been deceived, had badly shaken his confidence.
At his table this evening were all the adult attendees of the picnic, as well as Elias’s First Minister, Lord Levant, and his chamberlain and secretary, Lord Kinsey. The other members of Sullyan’s company, including young Tad, were being entertained over in the barracks by Major Denny, who had been promoted to Commander-in-Residence of the King’s Guard the previous year.
Under normal circumstances, Cal, who was a captain by rank, would not have been included among the King’s guests, but his marriage to Rienne and her inclusion among the King’s circle of close friends guaranteed him a place in this gathering. Rienne, as an empath, was highly valued by Sullyan’s team of Artesans due to her greater insight into what they might be suffering. She was also Sullyan’s dearest friend. So when General Blaine devised his rota for the guarding of the King, Rienne was included as part of Sullyan’s command.
In this, the General had shown his cunning as well as his willingness to accommodate his most powerful officer’s familial limitations. Sullyan was Robin’s commanding officer and was understandably reluctant to take the field at the same time as her life mate due to the huge risk this would pose to their son. She had no intention of leaving Morgan an orphan, as she herself had been, but also would not shirk her duty to her King. With the inclusion of Rienne in the party, not only could the healer provide for Morgan should the unthinkable happen, but she would also be on hand to treat any injuries as soon as they might occur. Sullyan felt immeasurably safer with Rienne along.
The dark-haired healer was content with the arrangement as it also meant she need not be parted from her own life mate for four months at a time. And Cal need not be parted from Rienne and his two children. The system worked well for all concerned, and Rienne spent her four-month tour of duty working in the castle’s infirmary.
The main topic of conversation this evening revolved around the only non-human in the group. Prince Aeyro
n was good-naturedly fending off the barrage of questions and advice being flung his way. After some long years—and constant nagging by his father, the Hierarch—the thirty-five-year-old Prince had finally announced he was courting and hoped soon to be betrothed. This visit to Elias had been arranged partially in order for him to make this welcome announcement to his human friends and allies.
Brynne Sullyan, his adopted sister and Princess of Andaryon, had been informed some weeks previously, but had been constrained to secrecy until her royal brother had the opportunity to make this courtesy trip to inform Elias himself. Now she smiled in deepest pleasure to see the flush brought to Aeyron’s handsome face by the congratulatory and often downright derogatory remarks cast his way by his friends.
Aeyron had taken many months to recover from the effects of his torture at the hands of the Baron. His right hand had been maimed in order to send a gruesome message to his father, and it had taken much careful nursing to mend not only the physical hurts, but also the mental trauma. Andaryan nobility set much store by physical perfection and strength of arms, and these ideals were especially important in the person of their ruler. Aeyron’s confidence had suffered deeply with his loss, and Sullyan had played a vital part in the total recovery he eventually made. His gratitude and love for her had never waned.
Unfortunately, as with Taran, Aeyron’s understandable but misplaced emotion had hindered his search for a mate. Knowing full well he could never wed Sullyan even had she been free—her blood was hybrid, a unique mixture of human and demon—his deep attachment to her left scant room in his heart for another. He had also become disaffected with the traditional and prejudicial social mores of his realm, which dictated that women were good for bed and breeding only. Having seen Sullyan in action, both in a military and a diplomatic capacity, Aeyron desired a life mate who would be capable of ruling by his side. Such a woman was hard to find in Andaryon.
During Sullyan’s pregnancy, while she was resident at the Hierarch’s Citadel, she and Aeyron began the reforms which Aeyron hoped to continue once he found a suitable Princess. Although there had been some outspoken dissention, none of the Andaryan nobles dared rebel openly.
Since Morgan’s birth and Sullyan’s return to the Manor, Aeyron had been bereft of her advice and company. Yet he found an unexpected ally in the form of his birth sister, Idrimar, whose husband, Ty Marik, was an old friend of Sullyan’s and a staunch supporter of her far-reaching ideas. Marik encouraged his wife to take an active part in the running of her father’s realm, and since Marik and Aeyron often relieved Pharikian of his many duties, Princess Idrimar was now a familiar and accepted presence at the council table.
So it was to Sullyan’s relief and great pleasure when Aeyron announced he had found the soul mate he desired; a woman of noble birth who had a brain and could be encouraged to use it. Now, his friends wanted details and would give him no rest until they had them.
“Come on, then, Aeyron, what does this paragon with a brain look like?” teased Cal. “How long are her teeth? How many men has her father tried to foist her off onto? Have you seen her mother yet? Have you checked her confirmation or bloodline?”
Rienne gasped in outrage at her husband’s inference that not only was the Princess ugly, but that her mother must be a horse. Her soft gray eyes widened in indignation and she turned to the tall Andaryan at her side, laying a hand upon his forearm. “Ignore these jealous, petty men, Aeyron. Tell me what she’s like. I’m genuinely interested. What’s her name? I suppose Brynne’s met her already?”
Sullyan shook her head as the men bridled at Rienne’s casual dismissal of them. Aeyron grinned broadly. He had anticipated this barrage of insulting banter and had already fended off similar reactions from his fellow countrymen at home.
“Her name is Lirina,” he told Rienne, “and her father rules a small, sea-bordered province many miles to the south of our realm. We’ve not had much to do with the Dalkians in the past. They’re so far away they never attend any of the gatherings at the Citadel, and as they’ve never caused my father any trouble, we rarely have contact with them. Lirina’s father, Lord Seyakin, came to the Citadel forty years ago in order to declare his fealty to the Hierarchy when he acceded to the rule of his province, but since then we’ve heard hardly anything from them.”
Rienne noted the flush in Aeyron’s cheeks and the diffident way he spoke the Princess’s name. “So how did you come to meet Lirina?”
The tall Andaryan smiled, taking an appreciative sip of the ruby vintage in his goblet. “Word got out I was looking for a wife. Emissaries came from far and wide, offering me gifts and bribes and all manner of other, ah, inducements to encourage me to consider this or that heiress or Princess. Among them, at the end of last summer, was an ambassador from Dalkia, and he carried with him a portrait of Lirina. Once I’d seen it and heard the man’s opinion of her character, I decided to pay her father a visit.”
“Risky,” came the gruff voice of the Torlander across the table. “How did you know yer man was telling the truth? Anyone can paint a flattering portrait. Anyone can tell a good story.”
Aeyron replied equably. “Agreed, Ghyllan, and I would have made no promises nor accepted any gifts until I had seen and spoken to the lady in question. But I was persuaded to the journey by the letter which arrived along with the ambassador and his portrait; a letter from an eminently trustworthy source.”
Aeyron glanced slyly at Sullyan and she sharpened her gaze as she realized there was more to this tale than she had yet heard.
She laughed. “Go on, then, my brother, seeing as you have now so cleverly piqued my curiosity.”
Aeyron grinned. “The letter was written by an old friend of yours. Someone you haven’t seen for a few years now.”
Sullyan’s brow creased, but then her expression cleared. As she sorted through what she knew of Lirina and her home province, the answer became clear. After all, there were not so many candidates to choose from.
“Ky-shan!” she exclaimed. “How is he, Aeyron?”
The Prince inclined his head. “He is well, Brynne, as is his son, Jay’el. My father is very pleased with their services to our shipping concerns, and not least for the profit they make us.”
“So how does Ky-shan know Lirina?” Rienne asked.
Aeyron glanced at her. “Ky-shan had been plying the seas about Dalkia’s coastline, scouting possible new trade routes for the fleet. A large and unexpected late summer tempest blew up, forcing him to run into Dalkia’s main harbor for shelter.”
“That must have been some storm,” said Sullyan, knowing Ky-shan’s reputation for seamanship.
Aeyron nodded. “It was a freak, and it caused some damage to Ky-shan’s vessel. He put in for repairs and while he was there, he investigated the capital’s trade potential. Using my father’s seal, he gained an audience with Lord Seyakin and they discussed mutually beneficial trade possibilities.
“During his visits to Seyakin’s palace, he met Lirina and her younger sister, Kyrie. Lirina handles most of her father’s business interests. Knowing how rare that is and how it would intrigue me, Ky-shan gave his letter to the ambassador when he heard he was leaving for the Caer. He didn’t tell Seyakin what was in the letter; he didn’t want to raise the man’s hopes should his daughter not catch my eye.”
“But she obviously did catch your eye, and also your heart,” smiled Rienne. “And now you are to be betrothed! Well, I’m very happy to hear it. May you find the fulfillment you desire. Might I ask the age of your intended bride?”
“Lirina is twenty-eight,” the smiling Prince replied. Deliberately, he added, “Her sister is twenty-three.”
“Jay’el is twenty-three.” Sullyan spoke casually, not looking at Aeyron.
He narrowed his eyes and breathed an exasperated sigh. “How do you do that? I was saving that revelation to startle you with.”
Sullyan allowed herself a small grin. “Forgive me, my brother.”
Aeyron frowned in a p
retense of irritation. “Well, since you are so clever, perhaps you can tell me the import of the request I have been asked to convey to you?”
Sullyan already had a good idea of what Aeyron was hiding, but she enjoyed stretching out the suspense to amuse her friends.
“Let me see,” she mused. “Let us suppose Jay’el has fallen for the charms of the young Kyrie and is desperate to impress Lord Seyakin as a valid suitor. Ky-shan is understandably keen for him to do so. After all, a link by marriage to the Hierarchy of Andaryon is not something to let slip away. But Jay’el, of course, does not have the status of a Prince of the Realm, and so must look to what talents he does possess in order to convince Seyakin of his suitability. As the winter season in Andaryon often keeps the fleet in port, Ky-shan feels he can manage without his son for a while, and this would leave Jay’el free to learn new skills with which to court the young Kyrie.” Sullyan glanced at her brother. “Am I nearing the mark?”
“You know full well you are, you witch!” Aeyron’s growl brought general laughter.
Sullyan turned to Elias, who watched this intimate byplay with envy and some puzzlement. “Elias, it seems your College will have its first non-human student.”
In the three and a half years since its inauguration, the College had grown slowly but steadily. With the much-publicized exile of the Baron—the Artesan craft’s most outspoken opponent—the populace was being led carefully toward a greater acceptance of those born with the gift. King Elias had undertaken a series of progressions through the main parts of his province, spreading the word of his approval of Artesans and the existence of the College, even going so far as to offer recompense to families who would lose the skills of those keen—or at least willing—to learn how to use their talents. After some time, during which the King despaired of influencing the long-held beliefs of his people, a trickle of candidates began at last to appear at the Manor gates.
