A Bird of Sorrow

by Shea Godfrey

  That Malcolm had coerced a man into murder by threatening the lives of children had changed the game and sent them all tumbling into an ethical and moral darkness they might never escape from.

  “And where is his family?” Jacob continued. “They are not where I last left them, I can tell you that much. Five young girls and their mothers fled from the only homes they have known, and their fathers, caught in the turning and forced to entrust their children to the son of their country’s greatest enemy. And where did that get them?”

  Jacob took a small step closer, looking up. His anger was on display and it was a rare thing. “Into the mouth of a hell I had promised to save them from, that’s where it got them. Until we find them, Wyatt, we can do nothing without proof, or the heirs of Almahdi de Ghalib will haunt us for the rest of our days.”

  Emmalyn could see that Wyatt took Jacob’s warning to heart. It dampened the fire of his anger in a way that Emmalyn had not seen from him before. When he had gone north five years ago for the Greymear border and Senegal, he had been a hotheaded young man with confidence and charm to spare. Emmalyn could see that while he still possessed those traits in abundance, he had grown in both subtlety and compassion. His temper was much the same, although that, too, had changed into something more measured and somewhat mysterious in its presentation.

  He had been home for over a month, and he had returned to a house in turmoil, embroiled in scandal and on its heels. He had been informed of Darry’s absence from Blackstone, but he had borne the news with a quiet, frustrated expression and not much else. It had been a true surprise to both Malcolm and their parents that his reaction had been so hardened.

  Emmalyn had Royce to thank for that. Her lover’s secret trip to Kastamon City in order to meet with Wyatt, before the Seventh crossed the Armasha River for the last leg of their journey home, had been the key to everything. Royce had delivered Emmalyn’s letter with no one the wiser, and Emmalyn knew that Wyatt had wept when he read it.

  “But she is truly well now, isn’t she?” Wyatt asked in a worried, almost defeated voice. “She is fully recovered from whatever he did to her, isn’t she? Telling me she is well is not good enough. You must tell me where they are, Jacob, please. Don’t make me keep asking.”

  Emmalyn met Jacob’s gaze. Jacob stepped to the side and said, “Then you must ask our sister. Even I don’t know where they are.” Jacob gave her a grudging smile. “She takes my missives and they end up where they end up.”

  Emmalyn lifted her eyes to Wyatt’s. “No.”

  “That isn’t fair and you know it, Em.”

  “Perhaps not. But what will you do if I tell you?”

  Wyatt considered the question. “I would find some way to see her, and let her know that she’s not alone in this.” Wyatt’s handsome expression was filled with tender emotion. “I would…I would kiss the hand of her beloved.”

  Emmalyn’s heart gave a tug at his words, and she recognized the wonder in his tone. “She is not alone, and she is recovered from her wounds. She has Jessa, and she has the Wild Bastards.”

  Wyatt blinked and then his brow went up. “The Wild Bastards? When did that happen?”

  “When Darry’s Boys rode through a cyclone that tore half the barracks to the ground, sucked the stones from the mortar of the solar walls, and then disappeared into a magical garden never to be seen again,” Emmalyn said with a sly grin. “It’s too dangerous, Wyatt, and I will not allow it. She is well, and she is not alone. You have my oath on it.”

  Wyatt stared at her and Emmalyn tilted her head to the side, ever so slightly.

  “Yes, my Lady.”

  “Father excludes Mal from what he can, but if it is known that the succession is in jeopardy, a schism will break the court. With Father’s impending war against the Fakir but a careless word away from spilling into Lyoness instead, on the backs of a screaming Arravan horde, he can only do so much without pitting himself against his firstborn son for all the world to see. Malcolm’s following among the young lords on the council has become too great.”

  Emmalyn pushed from her chair and smoothed at her skirt as she stood before her brothers.

  “Find Almahdi de Ghalib’s family, Jacob, and see if you can find a reliable spy in the Salish home. I’ve not forgotten Melora’s treachery against Darry, and with Marteen dead, she may have become more of a confidante to Mal than she wished to be. Though how that may end when the truth of what happened that night is finally revealed, I have no idea. Malcolm’s tale of Bentley seeking revenge for Darry’s downfall may make sense to those who know him by reputation alone, but the scene and the circumstances of the crime are a lie in the worst way, and everyone sees it. And they see it without having the information that we do.”

  Emmalyn’s eyes drifted to the flames in the fireplace as she remembered how Etienne Blue had refused to leave her side during the Siege of the Great Hall. When the Sahwello had broken past the wall of tables, he had stepped in front of her and stood his ground. I won’t leave you, he had said, and he hadn’t.

  “I will speak to Lord Greeves myself, on Etienne Blue’s behalf,” she added as she turned from the fire. “That he has no one to stand for him, as Bentley does, is its own injustice. Treemont Greeves will listen, and I’ll not have the crimes of another fall onto Etienne alone, for the sole reason that he lacks a rightful name. I think Malcolm is finding the Greeves family more powerful than he had imagined they were.”

  Jacob nodded. “I agree, on all of it, Emma.”

  “And let us not forget the weakest link in Malcolm’s chain.”

  “I’ll see to that one.” Wyatt’s tone was dark as he acknowledged her words. “It shouldn’t take much to woo him over.”

  “No,” Emmalyn countered. “Leave Captain Jefs alone. Your sudden attention will raise suspicion, if not with Jefs, then most certainly with Mal. He is the man who supports Mal’s story of what happened that night. He is either under his thumb, as Lord de Ghalib was, or a partner in whatever Mal is planning. Either way, he’ll be closely watched.”

  Wyatt frowned. “Then what in all seven hells am I supposed to do?”

  “Become a charming new member of Malcolm’s circle,” Emmalyn answered with ease. “Avoid any talk of Darry. Your affection for her is a well-known fact, and he’ll not forget that. Don’t overdo things, but side with him against Father when you see the advantage. Take him drinking at Madame Dubassant’s and pay for his pleasure. Throw your arm about his shoulders when he becomes frustrated, and then, when the moment is right? Share with him your belief that Lyoness will be ripe for the picking. When the bloodletting between Jessa’s brothers comes to an end, any soldier with an eye for such things will know it for the truth. Invite him into the inner circle of the Seventh, which he has always looked upon with great desire.”

  Wyatt’s shoulders fell somewhat.

  “Ask him for his advice on matters of war.”

  Wyatt’s expression contorted. “Gamar’s balls, Emmalyn.”

  Emmalyn couldn’t help but smile. “Wyatt, you are the only man Malcolm has ever openly admired. That is a weapon entirely too useful to leave rusting by the side of the road, merely because it is heavy. We have no choice but to seek justice, not only for Darry, but for Marteen Salish. We have Bentley’s account of what happened from Nina, and Jessa’s word, as well. Do you have faith in Darry’s honor?”

  “More than my own,” Wyatt replied with a slight grin.

  “Then you must give Jessa’s words the same weight you would give Darry’s.” A lift of her eyebrow silenced any further comment. “And I don’t care if Marteen was a toad, as Darry was wont to call him. Murder is a crime that demands justice, and I will not stand by and watch the throne of Arravan be sullied, nor turned into a game piece for Malcolm to gamble with.”

  “I’m with you, Emma, but you’re not letting me use my best weapon. Intrigue is a blade I might open my own throat with, and we all know it.”

  “Then improve your skills as quickly as
you can,” Emmalyn advised. “Because I assure you this is Darry’s best hope, and ours, as well.”

  Wyatt sighed and his face cleared somewhat. “What was Bentley Greeves doing in Nina’s bedchamber, anyway?” He gave a smile. “I thought our little water rat was going to marry Hammond Marsh.”

  “She still is, as far as I know.”

  Wyatt’s blue eyes gave a playful flash. “Cousin Nina is all grown up.”

  “Stow that in your pocket, little brother,” Emmalyn warned. “Hammond is lovely, but he’s a complete bore and we all know it. Nina will follow her heart, and you will both be nothing but supportive of her, and you will defend her honor to the last if it comes to that. Bentley Greeves may have the reputation of a cad, but he is one of the most honorable and trustworthy men I have ever met. I’m not surprised that he’s not met his match until now.”

  Wyatt set a hand upon his brother’s shoulder and looked at her, his scrutiny as keen as she had ever seen it. “Are you still unbeaten at Kings and Jackals, sister?”

  “She is,” Jacob answered for her. “And so what now?”

  “Now we attend the autumn moon celebration. Alisha and Nina can only keep the wolves at bay for so long, before our absence is noted.” She looked to Wyatt. “And make sure that you dance with your queen, or I shall tan your tall and pretty hide for all the Seventh to see.”

  Wyatt’s expression softened. “Yes, my Lady.”

  Emmalyn turned with a swirl of her silken skirt and walked away from them. When she reached the door, Wyatt’s voice stopped her.

  “We should talk soon, Emma, about Mother’s place in all of this. We’ve not spoken of her yet, and I think it’s time we did.”

  Emmalyn felt the cool iron of the door handle against her palm. “She mourns the loss of a second child…” The words burned through her chest and she let them light her way. And she will lose another before this is over, one way or another. “Darry shall not return to us, unless it is to kill Malcolm. And so I believe she’s not likely to ever return.” Emmalyn closed her eyes against what she knew to be true. “Mother will come to us when she is ready.”

  Chapter Three

  Jessa followed Darry down the shadowed hallway, a single lamp left lit by the top of the stairs. They had danced and they had eaten. They had laughed and played games of chance, and they had told stories. And then they had danced some more, leaving an empty cask of spring wine in their wake. Her feet had never been so sore, but she had one last dance left, and the music of its beat sang within her veins as she tightened her fingers about Darry’s. She had never danced the Mohn-Drom with another, but she was about to, and she had been ready since Darry had first spun out the intricate steps upon the polished floor of the Great Hall.

  Darry opened the door, and Jessa moved smoothly as she twirled into their room. Darry closed the door behind them and then followed, close at Jessa’s hip. She caught Jessa by the waist and Jessa swayed and bent away from her, smiling at the certain strength that pulled her back. They turned across the floor in a glide of close steps.

  Jessa felt the hands low upon her hips, and the press of Darry’s body, her powerful thighs and the smooth, defined muscles of her upper body. Jessa pushed back, the pulse between her legs pounding well beyond her memory of the bodhran’s beat. Darry’s left hand was possessive as she cupped Jessa’s breast, Jessa’s hardened nipple caught beneath Darry’s thumb. Jessa kissed her and Darry lifted her from the floor as their tongues met, Jessa grasping Darry’s curls and pulling the ribbon free.

  Jessa’s mouth opened fully and she moaned, her body demanding more. “I don’t…” Darry turned them toward the bed and Jessa’s feet touched the floor. Jessa began to undo the buttons at her waist. “I don’t think you’re meant to finish this fikloche dance.”

  Darry stepped back and yanked her jacket off, her hands moving down the buttons of her tunic an instant later. Jessa took advantage, her hands gliding upon Darry’s exposed skin and over her heavy scars. The scar upon her ribs from the Siege of the Great Hall, and the lighter one beneath that, the cut to repair the damage her duel with Joaquin had caused. Her touch was fervent upon the dark tissue below Darry’s left collarbone, a constant reminder that their love held a price in blood. She closed her hands upon Darry’s breasts and leaned in. Darry kissed her again, naked from the waist up as the remaining buttons at the back of Jessa’s dress opened beneath the subtle skill of Darry’s fingers.

  Jessa pulled free of the bodice and pressed her breasts against Darry’s.

  “I love you,” Darry said in a strained voice. Her different-colored eyes were on the edge of wild, and yet they held a keen awareness that tipped Jessa’s world.

  Jessa’s hands slid upward until she held Darry’s face. Her mouth brushed against Darry’s as she spoke. “You are the sweetest thing I have ever tasted, Akasha.” Jessa kissed her deeply, a hard quiver of pleasure sliding along the flesh between her legs. She wondered if she would spend her spirit upon a kiss. It would not be the first time she had done so, nor the last, her heart wagered.

  Darry’s hands pulled at Jessa’s skirt and the fabric rustled as Jessa pushed completely free of her remaining clothes. The buttons of Darry’s trousers popped open beneath Jessa’s fingers, and she slipped her hand beneath the soft material of Darry’s breeches as well. She felt briefly of the heat and then slid her hand free, moving her nails along the tight skin in a teasing manner. She licked her lips as Darry’s abdomen jerked in reaction. “Kiss me, Akasha.”

  A smooth whoosh of air rushed along Jessa’s skin as she fell.

  The bed caught her with softness and Darry moved between her legs, Jessa’s hands sliding about Darry’s ribs, and then lower, grasping at her buttocks as the firm muscles pushed smoothly. Darry’s mouth opened Jessa’s, and Jessa felt the fierce rise of her pleasure, pulling her hands back as Darry slipped her arm between them.

  Jessa was lost at the first passionate caress upon her sex, her hips thrusting in reaction as she tried to breathe within the depths of their kiss. Darry’s fingers circled and stroked her flesh with ever increasing speed, and Jessa fell from the edge as she spent in a wave of heat, the fullness of Darry’s fingers slipping within her body. She cried out, her hands pulling at Darry’s shoulders as her head pushed into the soft covers of their bed. Her flesh seized and convulsed with the purest of pleasures, Darry’s left hand closing in Jessa’s hair. Darry turned Jessa’s head as Jessa spent beneath her, her open mouth tasting of Jessa’s neck. The bite caused a sharp burst of pleasure to blossom atop the first, and Jessa’s cry moved along her throat in a decadent manner, never released, as the muscles of her neck strained beneath her satisfaction.

  Jessa’s hands moved weakly in Darry’s hair as her body jerked and then shuddered into that profound place beyond the intensity of her bliss. Darry’s touch gentled in a slow manner and Jessa opened her eyes, her heartbeat still wild as her hands tightened in Darry’s hair. Darry’s fingers slipped free of her flesh but did not leave as Darry shifted her weight.

  “Akasha…” Jessa whispered with love and closed her legs upon Darry’s hand.

  Jessa took hold of Darry’s face and lifted it to her own.

  She stared into Darry’s eyes while she caught her breath, and she remembered the midnight streets of Karballa, where she had worn her loneliness like a second cloak beneath the protection offered by the Veil of Shadows.

  Her steps had been silent amidst the people, and she remembered having no fear as she moved through the darkness. She remembered the sea of voices, and the music of stray laughter somewhere in the distance. She remembered the heat, and the sound of music, as if from a dream as it drifted above the rooftops. Lovers glimpsed through a window, their passion shared as their bodies moved beneath the cries of pleasure given and received. Things she had long understood would never be hers.

  Jessa grabbed Darry by the shoulders and pushed away from the bed, rolling them over.

  She straddled her lover and kissed her, br
eathing in Darry’s scent, tasting her, savoring and living their love. She reached beneath Darry’s clothes and stroked her, Darry’s hands taking hold of Jessa’s thighs in a rough manner. Jessa’s tongue stretched and searched, her heart dazed by the silken, swollen touch of Darry’s need. She let her fingers play and tease, and then like a hunter, she demanded her price.

  It was always this, this wonder that filled her soul when Darry was beneath her touch, the certain knowledge that Darry loved her regardless of what the Great Loom might want. That she had found so much passion in a life that had always promised so little of such things. It was as intoxicating as any other joy they experienced together.

  Jessa could feel it in Darry’s flesh and she freed her lover’s mouth, pressing her face against the heat of Darry’s cheek. She closed her eyes and bit her lip at Darry’s rough, aching cry, Darry’s legs tightening as her hips lifted from the bed in a rush of spirit.

  * * *

  “What is this?” Jessa asked as she ate another piece of blackened meat.

  “It’s rabbit.”

  Jessa licked her fingers as she leaned back between Darry’s legs, at her leisure against the warmth of Darry’s naked body. They were covered by the sheet and light blanket of their bed, the plate balanced between Jessa’s chest and raised knees. The lamp upon the bedside table had been lit, and its light was filled with warmth. “It does not taste like rabbit.”

  “There is a sauce of sweet peppers and spices, and then it’s baked.”

  Jessa leaned to the side and smiled back at her lover. Darry accepted the piece of meat she offered with a slow, playful mouth.

  “It’s very good,” Darry agreed. “Give me your fingers.”

  Jessa’s eyes closed slightly and her lips parted in a heady wave of desire as Darry sucked the sauce from her fingers, one at a time. Her stomach flipped in a slow manner and she felt it deep within her thighs. “Your mouth might topple an entire kingdom, Akasha, if used in such a manner.”