Light and Darkness: The Complete Series: Epic Fantasy Romance

by Jayne Castel

  Relief filtered across the man’s face. He then set the quill into its holder, unbent himself, and got to his feet before shuffling from the room.

  The king’s attention returned to Elias. “I think today’s successful negotiations call for a goblet of wine, do you agree?”

  This was a surprise. Nathan’s voice sounded almost friendly, although Elias didn’t trust his hearty tone. He wondered what the king was after. Nonetheless, wine appealed.

  “Aye.” Elias rose to his feet as well and stretched out the kinks in his back. Outside those tear-drop shaped windows, the late afternoon sky was turning from blue to rose-pink. They’d been shut away in this chamber all day, with only a short break for the noon meal. Elias’s head felt as if it was filled with wool. “You drive some hard bargains,” he admitted.

  Nathan’s smile expanded into a grin. “My father always told me to push until you get what you want.”

  “As does mine.”

  “I’m in no doubt of that.” Nathan crossed to the sideboard in a few loose-limbed strides and picked up a large crystal decanter of blood-red wine. He then poured two large goblets. “Reoul is known for his … tenacity.”

  Elias’s mouth curved. “Aye, he’s a stubborn bastard.”

  “He is.” Nathan carried the goblets over to Elias and handed him one. “Which is why I’ve been suspicious of you from the start. Your father never negotiated with Aron of Thûn.”

  Here it was—the reason Nathan had offered him wine. He wanted to talk about the Anthor king, of his plans beyond these peace talks.

  “His relationship with Aron was different,” Elias replied, choosing his words carefully. “My father respects you for one thing.”

  Nathan’s mouth twisted before he held up the goblet. “Well then … here’s to his continued respect, although he’s yet to earn mine.”

  Elias held Nathan’s gaze, noticing the glimmer in his dark eyes. Wordlessly, he raised his goblet in a toast, before lifting it to his lips and taking a sip. The wine was rich and spicy, and Elias recognized it instantly. “This is from Mirrar Rock,” he murmured, surprised. “From my father’s vineyards if I’m not mistaken.”

  “You’re not,” Nathan replied. “I’m fond of Anthor wine and import a few cases of your best vintages every so often.”

  Elias took another sip of wine and was immediately transported back to the bright sun and tawny, rock-studded hills of home.

  “You have a faraway look in your eye,” Nathan noted. He still regarded Elias with unnerving intensity. “How long since you were last at Mirrar Rock?”

  “Too long.” Elias made his response deliberately vague. No question from Nathan could be taken simply. The king was constantly delving for more.

  “You’ll be able to go home soon though?”

  “Perhaps … it depends what plans my father has for me.”

  Nathan swirled the wine in his goblet, his gaze hooding. “And what would they be?”

  Elias took another sip of wine and ignored the tightening under his ribs that occurred every time he thought on his father—something he’d tried not to do of late.

  The old man was controlling, manipulative, and contrary. Elias had never been able to read him, or defy him. And although these peace negotiations had been Reoul’s idea, he’d not honor any of them. It was a pity, for during these meetings with Nathan, Elias had glimpsed another future—one where he didn’t have to shed blood to prove his worth.

  It was a mirage though, like a beguiling siren that drew him into dangerous waters. The truth was that Elias would never be able to put down his sword.

  “I have no idea,” he replied honestly.

  Elias was in an introspective mood when he left the king’s apartments and made his way down the spiral staircase toward the banquet hall. Supper-time approached. The aroma of roasting pigeon drifted up from the kitchens.

  However, Elias didn’t feel like dining in the palace this evening. He was restless, out of sorts, and lacked appetite.

  These days it felt as if a boulder had taken up residence in his gut.

  Instead of leaving the stairwell and making his way to the banquet hall, he continued to the lowest level, and left the palace.

  Outdoors, the air was sultry and the sky was ablaze in red and gold. The day’s heat still lingered. Folk thronged the streets. There were plenty of soldiers about, for Nathan had called companies from every corner of Rithmar after Thûn’s fall. However, the atmosphere was festive this evening. Revelers spilled out of doorways, and the lilt of a lyre and the shrill pitch of a bone-whistle traveled across the cobbled streets.

  Elias had heard that Rithmar’s Fire Festival was coming up in a couple of days, and it looked as if the residents of The Royal City were getting ready for it. Streamers festooned the streets, and in the great square before the gates to the lower town, an unlit pile of branches and logs sat in the long shadow of the Altar of Umbra.

  Weaving his way through the crowd, Elias slipped through the gateway and into the lower town. He didn’t give much thought to his direction, for his feet had a will of their own this evening.

  They had one destination in mind: The Black Boar Inn.

  “Let’s play again.”

  Ryana met the dicer’s eye and slid a stack of silver talents across the table. Her opponent, a cloth merchant from Idriss, smirked. “I didn’t know enchanters were so well paid.”

  Ryana forced a smile back but didn’t answer. She wasn’t in the mood for banter this evening. She just wanted to dice. Reclining in her chair, she picked up her tankard and waited for the dicer to accept her challenge. After a few moments, he did, adding a gold talent to the pile.

  The din in The Black Boar was deafening this evening. It was the end of the week, and many laborers had coin to spend. The musky aroma of ale mingled with the oily fug of smoke drifting out from the kitchens. Roast mutton was on the menu again.

  On the table between them was a small board and a stub of chalk.

  “The first to reach one-hundred points?” The merchant asked. He had a heavy, unshaven jaw and penetrating dark eyes—a veteran dicer. He’d won their first two games, and Ryana was determined to not let him win the third.

  In truth, enchanters were not well paid. Since they lived communally, the Order paid for all their basic wants. However, she did receive a monthly stipend, which she’d just exhausted this evening.

  Ryana nodded. “Shoot and let’s see who starts,” she replied, her voice curt. She’d hoped that an evening dicing at The Black Boar would relax her, yet she found herself growing increasingly irritated by the merchant.

  She didn’t like the smug way he grinned after winning each game. It made her want to grind his face into the floor boards.

  Oblivious to her ill-temper, or perhaps not minding it, the merchant did as bid, casting a die onto the table between them. Ryana followed, and since she’d cast the highest number, began.

  They played fast, shooting with six dice. Some expert players kept tally from memory, but as Ryana knew that often the worst fights often started in taverns this way, she insisted writing the numbers down upon the chalk board.

  Ryana started well, racing ahead of her opponent. But then, halfway through the game, she cast three ‘ones’—and lost the entire score she’d accumulated thus far.

  Grinning, the merchant picked up the dice and cast them once more with a flick of his wrist. “Thirty-six!” he said, victory gleaming in his eyes. “I suppose that means I win?”

  Frustration exploded within Ryana, and her fingers curled around the table edge. She glanced down at the chalk board, her mouth thinning. Of course it did. The oily prick had only needed twenty-five points to win anyway.

  The merchant reached out a blunt-fingered hand and swiped the coins from the table. He was still grinning, a sight which made Ryana grind her teeth together. “It’s been a pleasure, lass.”

  He rose to his feet and moved away toward the counter to fetch himself another tankard. Ryana cursed
under her breath and glared down at the six dice scattered across the table. Her purse was now empty. She’d have to sing for coin if she wanted any more tavern meals or tankards of ale this month.

  Ryana ran a hand down over her face. She wasn’t sure why she did this to herself. Her restiveness only got worse when she ran out of coin. It seemed as if the only thing that brought her pleasure these days, besides spending far too many hours in The Black Boar, was her training sessions with Ninia. And even those didn’t take the edge off for long.

  Having an empty purse just made her life feel more restrictive.

  She was staring down into her half-empty tankard, inwardly berating herself for gambling her meager resources away, when someone took a seat opposite her.

  All the booths were taken this evening. Ryana had managed to get herself a small corner table instead. She didn’t intend to share it.

  “This table’s occupied,” she growled, glancing up.

  Elias met her eye, the corners of his mouth lifting. “Usually drink alone, do you?”

  For a few moments Ryana merely stared at him. After everything that had happened between them, he was the last person she’d expected to see in The Black Boar tonight. He was also the last person she wanted to see, and yet her heart leaped at the sight of him.

  When she finally spoke, her voice was unnaturally high-pitched. “What are you doing here?”

  “For the same reason as you, I assume,” he replied smoothly, raising a tankard filled to the brim with frothy ale. His tone was relaxed although the gleam in his eyes told her otherwise.

  Tension shivered between them.

  Ryana swallowed hard, panic fluttering up. It suddenly felt overly hot and airless inside the common room. “I doubt it.”

  She’d come to the inn to distract herself for a few hours, to distance herself from her thoughts, but Elias had the look of a man with an intent purpose.

  He gave a soft laugh, his gaze dropping to the dice. “How about a game?”

  “I’ve no more coin.” The admission made heat rise to her face.

  He cast her an amused look. “No wonder that man who just left your table wore a smug expression.”

  “Yes, well you can do the same.”

  However, Elias didn’t move. Shadows take him, he looked even better than she remembered. A day’s stubble shadowed his jaw. His black silk shirt and leather breeches molded to his tall, muscular body.

  A body that had been crushed against hers just two nights previous.

  Ryana’s fingers tightened around her tankard. She didn’t want to think about that—not now. And yet the frustration that seethed within her, told a different story.

  Elias was all she’d been able to think about since that night. How she cursed him for it.

  Steeling herself, she met his gaze once more. He still wore that lazy, amused expression, although his dark eyes were riveted upon her, intense and searing.

  “I suppose it’s just as well we ran into each other again,” she murmured, feigning casualness. “I wanted to apologize for the way I broke the news about your brother. I should have said something earlier.”

  His gaze narrowed. “Aye … you should have.”

  Ryana took a sip from her tankard. “I’ve heard about how things work in Anthor,” she continued. “Do I now owe you some kind of blood debt?”

  He huffed a laugh. “We’re not savages, Ryana. Blood debts are part of the old ways.”

  “You don’t want reckoning for Saul?”

  Elias shrugged, his expression shuttered. “Knowing my brother, he probably deserved his end.”

  Oh, he did.

  Elias motioned to the dice. “How about that game?”

  “I told you … I’m out of coin.”

  He flashed her a wolfish smile that caused heat to rise up from the pit of her belly. “Let’s play for something else then?”

  Ryana drew in a sharp breath, even as her pulse started to race. “What?” she asked weakly.

  He inclined his head, his searing gaze never leaving hers. “Truths.”

  14

  Truth Telling

  RYANA STARED ACROSS at Elias. “Excuse me?”

  Elias’s mouth curved. “Instead of talents, we bet truths. For every game one of us loses, we must answer a question.” He paused there. “No lies permitted.”

  Ryana wet her lips. To play such a game with Elias was unwise. She’d much rather gamble for coins she didn’t have than take the prince of Anthor into her confidence.

  “So will you play?” he prompted, a challenge in his voice. “Or are your secrets too dangerous to share?”

  Ryana raised her chin, heart thumping against her breast bone. “So sure you’ll win?”

  “You’re not on a winning streak tonight so I’d say my chances are high.”

  Arrogant bastard.

  “Your brother used to boast of his skill with dice,” Ryana said, deliberately not rising to the bait. “I saw Saul play once … he was good.”

  “Of course he was … dicing is in our blood. Every man of Anthor learns to play before he can walk.”

  Ryana frowned in an attempt to mask her nervousness. Her pulse was now thundering in her ears. “It sounds like I won’t enjoy playing against you.”

  “There’s one way to find out.” He scooped up a die. “Let’s see who goes first.”

  Ryana didn’t want to play him, didn’t want to remain at this table. And yet, she was rooted to the spot as Elias cast the die. The reckless part of her, that part that had gotten her into trouble in the past, willed her to stay.

  Elias cast a ‘three’ before catching her eye once more. “Your turn.”

  As if by its own will, her hand then snaked out and picked up the die. She cast it.

  Five. Ryana would start.

  Elias motioned to the chalk board. “Shall I keep score?”

  “One hundred,” Elias announced, leaning back in his seat. “That was an easy victory.”

  “Blind luck,” Ryana replied through gritted teeth. Fortune wasn’t with her tonight. She’d thrown two sets of three ‘ones’ during this game, giving Elias a huge advantage. Frustration pulsed through her now; she hated to lose, but had done so repeatedly this evening. She should have remained at the House and opted for an early night.

  “You’re right … but a victory all the same.” Elias picked up the tankard he’d hardly touched during the game and took a deep draft. “Alright … tell me … do you like being an enchanter?”

  A beat of silence followed before Ryana replied. “Well enough.”

  Elias raised an eyebrow. “Is that it?”

  “I don’t know what you expected.” Ryana smiled, smugness rising within her. “You asked an ‘aye’ or ‘nay’ question.”

  “You’re lying,” Elias answered, his brows knitting together, brushing aside her flippant answer. “I think you feel suffocated by this life.”

  Ryana’s smile faded. “Are you answering on my behalf now?”

  Elias met her eye. “I’m merely highlighting that the point of this game is that we tell the truth.”

  Ryana considered getting to her feet and walking off. She didn’t like being cornered like this. And yet, she’d agreed to this game. She hated to renege on things.

  She swallowed hard. “Alright then … I sometimes do get bored.” Drawing in a deep breath, she continued. “But the fault lies with me, not in my choice of vocation. I’ve always been restless … and it’s gotten me into trouble in the past.”

  Elias inclined is head, inviting her to continue.

  “I once betrayed the Order,” Ryana admitted finally, her voice barely loud enough to be heard above the surrounding din. “I stole the first half of The King Breaker and unwittingly gave it to someone in league with The Shade Brotherhood.”

  That surprised him. Elias drew back in his seat, and his gaze widened. “Unwittingly?”

  “Aye … I didn’t realize what I was doing until it was too late.”

  “Go on
.”

  Ryana gave a tight smile. “I’ve just given you two truths instead of one, prince. You’ll not get a third.”

  He inclined his head and reached for the dice. “Very well. Let’s play again.”

  Unfortunately, Elias won their second game as well.

  The margin was smaller this time. He beat her by only five points. However, the smug look on his face made Ryana grind her teeth.

  “Tell me more about the person you gave The King Breaker to,” he said, raising his tankard to her. “I sense there’s much more to that story.”

  Ryana glared back at him. She’d known he wouldn’t let it go. “His name was Gael,” she said after a lengthy pause. Around them the inn had quietened a little as platters of roast mutton, braised onions, and coarse bread were served. Ryana and Elias hadn’t ordered any supper. Ryana’s belly had closed. Nerves made her feel queasy, chasing away any appetite for greasy mutton. “We were lovers.”

  Elias didn’t answer; he merely watched her.

  Finally, the tension got too much for Ryana. “He tricked me,” she admitted. “I thought he was a musician, but he was an enchanter. He cast a charm over me and forced me to do his bidding. I broke into the Vault under the House of Light and Darkness, stole the stone, and killed the man guarding it.”

  Elias viewed her under lowered lids. “There’s more still to learn about this,” he murmured. “Isn’t there?”

  “Aye,” Ryana replied tightly. “But you’ll have to win another game to find out.”

  Elias won the next two games, after which Ryana told him about her ten year exile upon the Isle of Orin and her estrangement from her family.

  “So you’ve never been back to Ridder Vale?” Elias asked, motioning to the inn-keeper for two more tankards of ale. They had been so engrossed in their dicing that they’d only just finished their first ales of the evening. The inn-keeper had been glowering at them, for they were taking up a table that could be used by those willing to buy a meal.