by Jayne Castel
“RYANA … DID YOU hear what I just said?”
Ryana blinked and glanced up from where she’d been staring into her tankard of ale. “No, sorry … can you repeat it?”
Asher gave a sigh of frustration. “I said that we might be able to avoid war with Anthor after all.”
Ryana nodded, distracted, before raising her tankard to her lips. “That’s good news … providing Anthor can be trusted.”
Across the booth, Asher’s silver gaze narrowed. “I was skeptical … as was the king,” he admitted, “but it seems that Elias is actually serious about peace.”
Around them The Black Boar Inn was even more raucous than usual. A roar of drunken, excited voices filled the long wood paneled space. Behind Asher, perched upon the back of the booth, sat a white hawk. Grim, who’d once been the familiar of Asher’s predecessor, now shadowed Asher instead. The bird’s keen black gaze surveyed its surroundings with unnerving intensity.
Asher and Ryana sat alone in the booth for the moment, for Mira had gone to use the privy.
“Is something amiss?” Asher asked when Ryana didn’t reply to his comment about Elias. “You’re leagues away tonight.”
“I’m just tired. Those new apprentices of the Dark are hard work.” Ryana replied before pulling a face.
Asher snorted. “I know … they never stop asking questions.”
A drunken shout interrupted them. Across the room there was a loud game of dice going on at a table in one corner. The dicers were all well into their cups, and there were accusations of cheating flying.
Ryana’s mouth curved. She was tired and out of sorts, but The Black Boar was the best remedy for it. The table of bickering dicers aside, there was a merry atmosphere in the inn this evening. A fug of smoke hung over the room, and the aroma of roasting mutton wafted out from the kitchen. In the corner, a musician was tuning his lyre, ready for an evening’s music.
Leaning back in the booth, Ryana tried to find the reason for her strange mood. The apprentices had nothing to do with it. A few days had passed since the prince of Anthor had followed her into that courtyard garden, and she’d been snappish and on edge ever since. She hadn’t attended any more councils in the past days and had deliberately kept to the House in case she ran into the prince in the palace.
She hated to admit it, but Elias was the reason for her malaise.
“Did I miss anything?” Mira slid back into the booth and reached for the tankard she’d left behind.
“Not much.” Asher slung an arm around her shoulders, smiling. “Although if that argument at the dicing table continues, you'll have a brawl to break up soon.”
Mira arched an eyebrow. “I won't interfere,” she replied. “They can beat each other senseless for all I care.”
“Cheat!” A voice rang out, cutting through the surrounding chatter. “You did it again. I saw you!”
A torrent of abuse followed. A moment later the dicers erupted from their seats and started swinging punches at each other.
Asher heaved a sigh and leaned back in the booth. Reaching up, he pinched the skin between his eyebrows. “Maybe I should stop frequenting The Black Boar,” he grumbled. “The High Enchanter shouldn’t be seen rubbing shoulders with gamblers and drunks.”
“Listen to you,” Mira mocked. “Think you're too good for these kinds of places nowadays?”
Ryana was about to join Mira in her teasing, when she caught sight of a man and a woman threading their way through the jostling crowd.
The man was shorter than most, with a mop of wavy light-brown hair and a boyishly handsome face. He steered his companion through the crowd, a protective arm about her shoulders. The woman was small and curvaceous with thick, curly red hair and a pretty, freckled face. She had wide brown eyes that anxiously scanned the booths—looking for someone.
Ryana inhaled sharply. “I don’t believe it.” She pushed herself out of the booth and rose to her feet.
“What?” Asher asked, but Ryana was already striding away, crossing the narrow space between her and the newcomers. They had skirted the edge of the room, avoiding the brawl, where onlookers were now intervening.
The young woman spotted Ryana then, and a wide smile spread across her face. She broke away from her companion and threw herself at Ryana, crushing her in a tight hug.
“Shadows, Lilia,” Ryana gasped. “What are you two doing here?”
Lilia pulled back, her smile fading. “Didn’t you get my letters?”
“I did … I just hoped you’d stay where it’s safe.”
“You know us.” Lilia’s companion stepped up next to her. “We like a bit of trouble.”
Ryana cut him a withering look. “Life in the Port Guard too dull for you, Dain?”
He grinned back. “Mind-numbing. You have no idea.”
“Welcome back, you two.” Asher stepped up next to Ryana, smiling. “I take it, the king called for reinforcements?”
Dain nodded. “Two hundred men from the Port Guard. We arrived this afternoon.” He grinned then. “However, from the talk that’s going around town, it sounds like we’ve made a wasted trip. What’s this about peace talks?”
“Elias of Anthor is here,” Asher confirmed. “And it looks like Rithmar and Anthor might come to some agreement.”
“That’s great news,” Lilia replied, relief suffusing her face. “I don’t care if we’ve had a wasted trip. I’ve missed you all.”
Ryana grinned back. “And I you.”
“Are you going to introduce me to your friends?” Mira appeared beside Asher, her gaze surveying the pair with interest.
Asher drew Mira against him, glancing back at the newcomers. “Lilia and Dain, meet Mira … formerly of the Swallow Guard.”
Lilia’s eyes grew wide as she watched the couple. “What—?”
“It’s a long tale,” Mira interjected, her mouth quirking. “One that’ll take all night. However, Asher has already told me about you two … and about what you did.”
Mira’s gaze focused on Lilia, her expression curious. Ryana realized then that Asher had confided in his lover about their friend. The young woman was a shape-shifter—an identity that she wisely kept secret from most folk. Since the reign of The Shadow King centuries earlier, when her kind had aided Valgarth, they had been hunted to near extinction.
However, Lilia’s ability to shift into a small, russet-colored fox had saved them all a year earlier.
Dain grinned. “I hope he made us sound heroic.”
Seated in the booth once more, Ryana caught up with her friends properly. They ordered platters of roast mutton, braised onion, and rye bread, and shared a large jug of rough wine. For the first time in days, Ryana felt almost back to her old self. And when the lyrist started playing, she’d almost forgotten Elias of Anthor breathed.
“He’s playing the Lay of Morwen,” Lilia said, her eyes gleaming. “I love that song.”
Indeed, the lyrist was. It was a melancholy, heart-wrenching tune. However, it was one that took Ryana back to a time she’d rather have forgotten. She’d last sung the lay on the night she and Gael had met years earlier.
Lilia met her eye. “Do you know it?”
Ryana reluctantly nodded.
“Can you sing it for us?”
Ryana rolled her eyes. “A bit depressing, isn’t it? Why don’t we wait for another, more cheerful, song?”
“Maybe you don’t remember the words?” Mira suggested from across the table.
“Of course I do,” Ryana replied, irritated. A heartbeat later she realized she’d walked straight into a trap.
Mira’s eyes lit up. “Sing it then.”
Lilia gave a soft laugh. “Come on … indulge us.”
Heaving in a deep breath, Ryana pushed herself up from the table. “Alright then.”
She made her way across the crowded floor to the lyrist. Recognizing her, the lad grinned and stopped playing. Then, once Ryana had halted beside him, he struck up the tune once more, fingers dancing across th
e strings.
Ryana began to sing, and as she did, the stresses and worries of the past few days sloughed away from her. She was always someone else when she sang. She was free.
“Morwen tried to remember him
The way he used to smile
The man whose gaze was carved upon her heart
She was born the day of meeting him
Born to breathe his name
She never dreamed they’d one day be torn apart
She cried a sea of tears
Drowned in her fears
Died for the memory of love
For the burning desire
For his kiss of fire
She prayed to the cruel gods above.
Morwen tried to forget him
The way he used to talk
The man whose voice was etched upon her soul
She was lost the day of meeting him
Lost inside his gaze
But the time they spent did finally take its toll.
She cried a sea of tears
Drowned in her fears
Died for the memory of love
For the burning desire
For his kiss of fire
She prayed to the cruel gods above.”
The verses went on and on. The Lay of Morwen was long, going into detail about Morwen’s life. The lonely widow had taken in an injured soldier, who stole her heart and then left her. The song struck a chord with Ryana. She felt Morwen’s passion, her need to throw off the confines of her sad widow’s life and lose herself with her lover. She knew what it was like to feel stifled by your life. At twenty-two, Ryana had once longed for life-altering passion. However, it had come at a price.
These days she had no such illusions about life, or love. She preferred romance to remain in songs. These days, she realized that love wasn’t the answer to the restlessness that simmered within her even now. The problem lay deep inside her, a flaw that had been with her since childhood.
It had been her constant companion ever since she’d learned she was different to other children.
Halfway through the lay, Ryana noted a familiar face in the crowd.
A tall, dark-haired man dressed in black was leaning against the far wall of the common room. Partially cast in shadow, Elias had deliberately taken up a position where he could observe the room without being easily noticed. His gaze gleamed as he watched her.
Ryana’s heart lurched, and she nearly faltered.
Concentrate.
Wrenching her attention from him, she focused on the wood paneling behind the prince, at where the light of a cresset danced. She had to focus on the song, focus on getting to the end.
9
About Your Brother
ELIAS LEANED AGAINST the wall and watched Ryana sing. He hadn’t heard The Lay of Morwen in years; it was one of his mother’s favorite songs. Strange really, for Jada of Anthor was a cold, hard woman—and the lay was full of raw emotion.
Ryana had a voice to make the shadows weep: soulful, sensual, and sweet.
Elias felt the hair on the back of his arms prickle. His breathing grew shallow as he listened. Her voice was a caress.
The entire common room had gone still at Ryana’s singing, even the raucous dicers. The men gazed at her, their faces slack, as if a goddess stood before them.
Elias knew how they felt. Even dressed in her enchanter’s robe, leggings, and long boots, her blonde hair pulled back into a messy bun at the crown of her head, Ryana had a presence when she sang. A sensuality that laid her bare.
Elias had never heard such a voice. His body actually responded to it: his pulse quickened, and his groin tightened.
Ryana had seen him. He’d noted the alarm flare in her eyes earlier when she’d become aware of his presence. After that, she’d made a point of looking through him. However, when she finished singing, Ryana spared a wary glance in his direction once more.
They stared at each other for a heartbeat, both unsmiling.
In retrospect, Elias shouldn’t have entered The Black Boar. He should have stayed away. But he’d gotten bored in the evenings and had slipped from the palace after supper. Officially, he wasn’t supposed to stray from the confines of the palace, especially without an escort. He hadn’t even brought his men with him. The soldiers at the gates to the lower town had recommended this inn for its ale and dicing. Elias hadn’t expected to see Ryana here.
But now he had, he was intrigued. What was an enchanter doing singing in a dodgy tavern? His surprise grew further when he followed her path back to the shadowy booth on the far side of the common room. Asher and Mira both sat there, with another couple Elias didn’t recognize. A snow-white hawk perched on the back of the booth behind Asher: the enchanter’s familiar.
Ryana took her seat, leaned in, and murmured something to Asher. A moment later the High Enchanter glanced his way.
Asher frowned, and Elias favored him with a smile. The High Enchanter had remained aloof toward him throughout negotiations so far. After Elias had tried to kill Ninia a couple of months earlier, Asher wasn’t inclined to trust him.
Wise man.
The lyrist struck up another tune, this one jaunty, and the dicers resumed their bickering.
Elias drew back into the shadows. Perhaps it was best he find another tavern to drink and dice in. The food in this city tended to be plain and stodgy, yet the ale was delicious.
And the ale was bound to be just as good elsewhere.
Ryana stifled a yawn and blinked in an attempt to ease the fatigue that made her eyes burn. The inn’s common room was nearly deserted now, save for two men in the corner who were still dicing—and Ryana, who was propped up against the bar.
Asher and Mira had long since returned to the House of Light and Darkness, while Lilia and Dain had retired to their room upstairs.
But Ryana hadn’t wanted to go home to her austere chamber. She’d indulged in a couple of games of dice, both of which she’d won, before singing till she was hoarse. Now, her throat ached, her eyes smarted, and her body cried out for sleep.
She couldn’t put it off any longer.
Bidding the inn-keeper good night, Ryana slid off the stool and reached for her cloak. Despite that it was early summer now, the nights here in the highlands could still be cool. It was a long walk back to the House.
Ryana stepped outside, breathing in the night air, crisp and laced with wood smoke—pleasant after the muggy, overly-warm interior of The Black Boar’s common room. The narrow street beyond was empty, the high wood and stone buildings towering overhead. The lamplighters had been out earlier, although there were only two glowing orange lamps burning on this street.
The darkness didn’t bother Ryana—as an Enchanter of the Dark, the shadows were her allies. They would warn her if she was in any danger.
Even so, when a tall silhouette stepped out of the deep shadow of the inn, Ryana stiffened.
Her pulse quickened when she recognized Elias. Instinctively, the fingers of her right hand flexed. Around her the darkness stirred, awaiting its summons.
Elias’s mouth quirked. “Apologies. I didn’t mean to give you a fright.”
“You didn’t,” Ryana growled back. “What are you doing, lurking in the shadows?”
“Waiting for you,” he replied.
Ryana’s gaze narrowed. “And why’s that?”
“I wanted to commend you for your singing … that’s quite a voice you have.”
Ryana pursed her lips. Drawing her cloak tightly around her, despite the fact that the night was actually quite mild, she moved past him.
Elias fell into step with her, and they walked up the street together.
Ryana cut him an irritated glance. “What are you doing?”
“Accompanying you back to the House of Light and Darkness,” he replied smoothly. “It’s not safe for a woman to wander the city alone at night.”
Ryana huffed. “It is for me.”
“Really? What if a group of drunken men attacked you in
one of these narrow streets?”
Ryana favored him with an arch look. “You think they’d dare attack an enchanter?”
“They might … if they’re deep enough into their cups.”
“I can walk home unescorted,” Ryana replied, injecting a frosty tone into her voice. “I don’t need your protection … thank you.”
But still he didn’t leave her side. Elias cut an imposing figure, clad in black leather, the orange lantern light highlighting the aristocratic lines of his face. Even dressed like this, without finery, you could see he was a prince.
“What are you doing outside the palace without an escort?” Ryana asked finally. They had left the narrow street behind. The pair now walked along a wider paved way that wound a curving path toward the gates that separated the upper and lower towns. “I don’t think the king would approve.”
Elias cast her a wicked smile that made Ryana’s breathing quicken. “He wouldn’t … but I’m used to having my freedom.”
“You didn’t stay long at The Black Boar?”
“I’d prefer to drink where no one knows who I am.”
Despite that she knew she shouldn’t, Ryana glanced once more at Elias. She drank in his haughty profile. “Word is that negotiations are going well,” she said carefully. “Was I wrong about you?”
He gave a soft laugh. Once again, Ryana felt her body’s swift reaction to him; this time it was a fluttering of excitement low in her belly. That laugh was full of sensual promise, full of danger. “I don’t know,” he replied. “I forget what opinion you had of me.”
Liar. He would remember their conversations at the ball and in the courtyard garden—she certainly hadn’t forgotten them.
Swallowing, Ryana fixed her attention to the outline of the iron gates looming before them. They passed through into the upper town and crossed the wide stretch of cobbles beyond, before beginning the steep climb up The King’s Way.
And with each step, Ryana’s awareness of the Prince of Anthor grew. Shadows take him, the man’s presence turned her witless. She hadn’t been this affected by a man since Gael.
