This all transmitted to her brain in an instant and took her to her knees.
“Release him,” Darios ordered again, more sharply.
But it was too late; she’d seen the worst.
And she had not a shred of doubt after what she’d felt, there were no children to protect, no family used as pawns to get his cooperation, no coercing his emotions to keep him in line, because even if there were, someone as unfeeling as Lotho would never lie to save anything except his own ass. Even then, he’d very likely have to tone down the apathy to do so.
Her fingers fell away, not because she felt compelled to obey the warlord, but because she couldn’t bear it another moment. Already on her knees, she collapsed fully onto the floor, her strength gone.
Darios swept her up, holding her close as he strode from the cell.
“Why in the name of perdition would you do such a thing when you knew it would cause you immeasurable pain?”
“I thought I might be able to divine why he would tell such lies about Axton,” she whispered raggedly.
“He was not lying.”
“But it can’t be true. I’m no threat to my brother. He’d gain nothing by my death.”
She leaned her head back against his arm and gazed up at his face, handsome even when set in irritation. Desperately needing to cancel out the horrible experience with something more pleasant, she slid her hand up to curl around his neck, skin to bare skin.
The tingling warmth she always experienced with Darios rippled through her and gave her the strength to explain further. “Our wealth is not exaggerated. I live in the royal household, but so do a dozen other relatives. We have more than all of us could spend in a hundred lifetimes. This plot can’t stem from greed.”
“The order came from the prince. I’m sorry, Aurelia,” he said more softly as his face angled down to hers, “but my truth never fails.”
“Or perhaps it’s merely the truth as he understood it from another.”
“How does that change the fact your brother ordered this Ryker to kill you?”
Hearing the awful condemnation of her brother again, tears sprang to her eyes and a sob escaped. “I don’t know, except it hurts too much for me to believe it could possibly be true.”
Chapter Ten
WITH THE DETENTION cells far away from his chambers, Darios carried her to a quiet room at the back of the citadel where she could collect herself in private.
He sat on one of the many couches and held her trembling body in his lap.
One of his favorite retreats in the often-crowded citadel, the little used room had windows on three sides. The tinted glass reduced the heat from the harsh Voltarrean sun, but it didn’t obscure the beauty of the rear gardens.
Darios referred to it as a meditation room instead of the more aptly named conservatory because he often went there to think. Fragrant herbs known to calm the senses and a variety of plants in a riot of bold colors filled the countless hanging baskets and raised beds. Aurelia would likely enjoy it when she wasn’t upset. If they could find a few idle moments not consumed by endless drama, he’d give her the tour he promised and bring her back here. Except idle time didn’t seem to be in their future any time soon.
“I’m sorry for getting so worked up,” she told him quietly when the shudders racking her body finally ceased.
“You’ve had a harrowing past few days.”
She nodded, still sniffling.
“I would be as upset if I learned my trusted brother had betrayed me.”
It was the truth, but the wrong thing to say to her. She stiffened, going as rigid as a board, and pulled her face out of his neck.
“You can’t possibly believe this is true.”
He said nothing because his answer would only make her more agitated. Regrettably, his silence had the same result.
“I could resolve everything if I could speak to my brother and my father,” she stated yet again as she pushed out of his arms and off his lap.
“As I’ve told you—”
She waved her hand impatiently. “Yes, there is a dust storm. I know.”
They both lapsed into silence this time.
Aurelia filled the void by pacing, but the long room wasn’t conducive to stamping around and she had to dodge planters and benches while she did.
He watched her carefully, concerned she’d trip on a decorative pot or take a header over one of the benches. It would have been safer to pull her back into his lap, but he realized she needed to burn off some of her anger and nervous energy.
In the quiet, he noticed rather than heels sharply striking stone, there was only the dull thwap of her bare feet on the floor. Not being able to stomp undoubtedly reduced the venting properties of pacing, but more importantly, it reminded him he’d been remiss in arranging her wardrobe; she needed shoes.
Suddenly, she whirled on him and demanded with all the haughtiness of a true High Princess, “Ready a ship to take me home. Now.”
“No.”
“What?” she asked, blinking as though in shock he would deny her anything.
“I will not let you return only to give your treacherous brother—” When she bridled with anger he quickly adjusted what he would have said. “I won’t give the culprit another chance to get rid of you.”
Hurt flickered in her luminous blue eyes. “Axton isn’t treacherous, no matter what you believe. Something isn’t right.”
“As you say, but until we know all the details, you are staying here. End of discussion.”
She scowled at him, obviously unused to being told no. “You’re actually refusing to let me go home?”
“We speak the same language, so I believe I have made that abundantly clear.”
“Then I really am a prisoner.”
“I’m protecting you,” he growled, his patience with this argument exhausted. “Someone ordered your death, if not your brother, you don’t have any idea who. Further, in order for the Ophigs to get down to the surface of your planet and abduct you, someone had to disable the security shields in that sector. Have you thought of the coordination that would take? One person couldn’t have done it alone. The enemy you’re facing isn’t a single entity, Aurelia, and coming from within, where they know you and understand your world, makes the risk of going home even greater.”
“It isn’t my brother,” she repeated emphatically. “I won’t believe he tried to kill me, not until I hear it from his own lips.”
“All the more reason to stay here. You are too trusting. To confront him would give him prime opportunity.”
She glanced up at him. “If the goal was to implicate Voltarre in all of this, keeping me is not helping.”
“The message I sent detailed your rescue. It contained no threats, only a promise to keep you safe that I mean to honor. It will have to suffice until the cloud has dissipated and we can restore communication.”
She sniffed derisively. “Coming from Voltarre, after I’ve been snatched from my home, it won’t be a comfort. He’ll want to talk to me himself.”
“Which can’t happen now. I’ll deal with the fallout when it comes.”
“How do I know I can trust you? What if this dust cloud is an excuse to buy time for a ransom demand, or war preparations?”
He rose from the bench, planted his fists on his hips, and glowered at her. “You insult me with these preposterous allegations. You’re upset, I understand that, but I caution you to guard your tongue.”
“Why preposterous?” she demanded to know, “when your predecessors have done the same or worse. I insist you take me to your communications room so that I might try, myself.”
He quirked a dark brow. “No, I have said repeatedly—”
“And I don’t believe you, like you don’t believe my brother. When dealing with an adversary, even during peace, it is always important to verify. My father taught me that.”
He simply crossed his brawny arms over his chest and stared at her, his irritation growing. If she couldn’
t see that and continued to push him, she wasn’t much of an intuitive.
“Fine,” she replied tersely. “Don’t take me.” She whirled and strode to the door. “I’ll find it without your help.”
He grabbed her hand and spun her back. “You’ll do no such thing.” She tugged hard when he didn’t let go, but his grip remained firm, unbreakable. “This argument is a waste of time, and I have things to do.”
“Like what? Prepare to wage war on my people?”
“Yes, but hopefully it won’t come to that.” He started walking, pulling her along with him. “Come. I’ll take you back to my chambers.”
“No. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“You are, and you’ll stay there, under guard if need be.”
“Is this how you treat all your honored guests?” she inquired acidly. “Manhandling them, refusing a simple request, and acting like a big, gigantic, gargantuan jerk?”
“Name-calling? Is that what this disagreement is devolving into?”
“I don’t want to go back to your room. In fact, I don’t want to be anywhere around you.” She dug in her heels although it did little good. “Let me go.”
“You’re not thinking clearly.”
“And you’re thinking like a boneheaded Voltarrean,” she shot back. “I demand to be sent home now!”
He didn’t respond, nor did he stop walking. He knew she had to quicken her pace, taking two steps to his one, to keep up with his much longer stride, but she’d stirred his anger.
Aurelia was slightly out of breath when he slowed at a corner. It didn’t stop her from taking advantage of the opportunity. In fact, she did something astonishing, and, in his mind, incredibly stupid.
Aiming a sharp kick to the back of his knee, she twisted her hand and jerked—hard. His knee buckled, and he staggered.
As he righted himself, his curt voice lashed out, “You did not just—”
But he stopped abruptly when she sent a shower of ice in his direction.
While the tiny frozen balls pelted him in the face, he staggered, this time in shock.
She didn’t wait around for his reaction; she ran.
RECKLESS FOOL!
The invective rattled around her brain as she scrambled on the icy floor. What had she been thinking? She had nowhere to run, or to hide. This was his home, his city, his world. She had no allies, no friends she could trust, only Darios.
Nevertheless, she needed to get away, to think and collect herself, but mostly to let his fury cool.
When she heard the pounding of boots on the stone, she felt compelled to look back but didn’t dare. He was gaining, she knew it, not because of her instincts, but from the heat of his anger searing into her back.
At the next corridor, she cut sharply to the right. This new offshoot was long, wide, and sloped downward, which suited her escape perfectly. She waved her hands at her feet, producing a thick sheet of ice on the carpet, which she intended to skate on.
“Don’t you dare move,” he growled at a volume so loud and so close her ears rang.
Although reason and logic told her to stay and face him head-on, self-preservation superseded anything else.
Ignoring his command, she waved her hands in front of her again; the volume of ice doubled then tripled. Soon it became a wave that lifted her and carried her on its crest. The surface was as she’d pictured in her mind, flat and smooth like glass. Since it sloped parallel to the floor, she took off, not skating as she’d hoped, but racing like on a ski jump.
Though she had never tried anything like this before, she executed it perfectly. Except, as she gained speed and rapidly approached the far wall, she realized she didn’t know how to stop.
She stiffened, afraid this wouldn’t end well, but this only made her wobble. To keep her balance, she threw her arms out to the side. This shifted the ice to the walls. When the wobbling didn’t cease, her arms windmilled wildly to keep from landing hard on her behind, resulting in ice forming on the ceiling as well.
“Drat and blast, I need brakes,” she exclaimed as she slid faster through the frozen tunnel she’d unintentionally created.
She curled her hands into fists, hoping the ice would stop before things turned painful. In a flash of good luck, it did, ending just shy of where the corridor jutted sharply to the left. When her feet transitioned from slippery ice to dry rug, they came to an abrupt halt.
Unfortunately, her body did not.
She lurched forward, flying headlong toward the wall. Her outstretched hands barely kept her from slamming into the hard, tapestry-covered stone. Out of breath, with her heart racing after her unplanned thrill ride, she closed her eyes and thanked the gods in heaven she was still in one piece.
Only then did she chance a glimpse over her shoulder.
Whopping mistake; she should have kept on going and never looked back.
Darios stood watching, his thick arms crossed over his chest, red cape flapping in a breeze summoned of his own power.
He was magnificent but also utterly terrifying in his anger.
Smoke formed in a cloud at his feet, and flames licked up from within it. Their eyes met for a prolonged moment. She should have run and hidden for the next lunar month, but her wild skate and near collision left her too stunned to move.
Not so for Darios.
One of his dark brows quirked upward and he slowly shook his head. Then, in an awe-inspiring display of his pyrokinetic aptitude, he sent a wall of smoke, fire, and heat shooting her way with a roaring whoosh.
Aurelia screamed, curling her arms over her head, expecting it to hit and turn her into a smoldering pile of cinders and ash. But as she sat there cowering, prepared for the worst, she didn’t feel the first spark or the tiniest sting of a burn. Instead, a warm wave doused her from head to toe.
Soaked through to the skin, her long hair plastered to her head, neck, and back, water running in rivulets down her face and body into a deep puddle in the soggy carpet beneath her, she sat in a state of shock as she tried to figure out what had happened.
Then, as if a light had switched on over her head, she realized this was the end result of intense heat mixing with ice—and quite a lot of it.
“How old are you?” Darios snapped while moving her way.
Perplexed by the random question, it took her a moment to reply. “I’ve seen twenty-four winters.”
His long strides covered the distance between them swiftly. “Then suppose you start acting like it,” he growled. “Voltarrean children learn early the consequences of using their powers indoors. Should I summon one to teach you that lesson?”
She flushed in shame when she glanced at the hall behind him. The rug that had once been a mixture of cream-and-red hues like the landscape of his world was a sodden mess. Surprisingly, she didn’t see anything scorched black. It seemed the overlord had more control over his power than she did.
Upon her now, he decided to answer his question himself. “Never mind, I’ll see to it myself.”
Aurelia didn’t like the sound of that, or his deep rumbling angry tone.
“Darios, I’m sorry. I’ll arrange for a new one once—”
“Repayment is unnecessary, and not the lesson I had in mind.”
In a flash, she was over his shoulder, her upper body dangling down his back, her head a long way off the floor. He anchored her in place with a heavy arm clamped around her thighs.
“Put me down!” she shrieked. “You don’t have the right!”
“Wrong. You’re under my protection, staying within my household, which means your care and safety are up to me, as is determining the consequences for your unacceptable behavior.”
“What are you going to do? Throw me in the cell next to the Ophig for ruining a carpet?”
This got his attention, but not the kind she wanted. He wheeled around startling another screech from her. She reached out with both hands and grabbed hold of the only thing she could, his cape.
“You great big brute!�
�� she cried as he swiftly moved back up the long hall. “All the stories I heard as a child were true! Put me down now.”
“May the gods deliver me from a spoiled brat who doesn’t know what’s best for her.”
“I am not a brat!”
Then he muttered, “I don’t have time for this,” while taking stairs two at a time. She bounced as he did so, knocking much of the breath from her lungs.
When some of her surprise had diminished, she became livid. “You have no right to decide consequences for me,” she screeched, struggling and thrashing around. “Put me down, darn you.”
When he didn’t respond, or slow, just kept moving, she pounded on his back with her fists. “Are you deaf?” she demanded heatedly. “I said put me down now.”
“If you insist,” he drawled.
As quickly as she found herself upside down over his shoulder, she was right-side up, but not for long. Darios stopped by a bench below a window and sat. Then, before she could say anything—explain, curse more, or apologize—he upended her yet again, this time facedown over his lap.
She’d never been in such an ignoble position before and shrieked her outrage. “Stop this! You can’t—”
But he proved that he could, and easily.
Four slaps fell on her upturned bottom. Each landed sharply on one cheek at a time with a loud crack that echoed down the long corridor. They stung, the wet ivory gown and her lack of undergarments providing no protection.
Aurelia was rendered speechless.
The previous smacks he’d given her had been nothing, an attention-getter in an extreme situation when she’d been quickly losing control. But this, bent over his knee for a spanking like a naughty little girl, surpassed anything she’d ever imagined. Mainly because she’d never needed to be disciplined before; no one would have the unbelievable gall.
Leave it to a Voltarrean brute to be the first.
Finding her voice, she sputtered in outrage, “How dare you strike a royal princess. Let me up this instant!”
“I dare what I want; my word here is law. As such, when I give you an order, you will do as I say.” His hand came down crisply twice more. “Furthermore, I’m not striking a princess, I’m spanking the misbehaving backside of a royal brat, and there’s more of that in store for you, if you don’t settle down and start acting like the calm, reasonable adult I know you are.”
Claimed by the Warlord Page 14
