Rebel's Honor: Book One in Crown of Blood Series

by Gwynn White

  What was so important that Mott had to drag her out in the middle of the night? She considered asking the she-witch but dismissed the idea almost as it formed. She would know soon enough.

  They reached a wooden door guarded by two more soldiers.

  Mother Saskia knocked far more tentatively than the rap she’d sounded on Lynx’s door.

  Neither the thickness nor the weight of the solid oak muffled Mott’s voice. “Enter.”

  Heart beating faster than a hummingbird’s wings, Lynx waited as a sentry opened the door for her. She stopped at the threshold, taking in the expansive room.

  Well lit with oil lamps and furnished with heavy wood and leather furniture, it seemed deserted, until Mott spoke from behind a wing-backed chair. “Get over here, girl.”

  Bristling at the tone, Lynx eased around a couple of sofas and a low table toward his chair, facing a blazing fireplace that stretched the length of one wall. Mott waited, dagger in his hand. She forced herself to stand tall, as if she faced knife-wielding emperors every day. She caught an acrid whiff of chenna from his breath, and a goblet of the stuff waited next to his elbow. How sober was he?

  Mott wasn’t in a hurry to satisfy her curiosity, keeping her waiting at least a full minute before asking, with nary a slur, “Why are you here, girl?”

  Lynx looked at him warily, wondering if this was a trick question.

  Mott slammed his fist onto the table, rattling the goblet.

  Lynx jumped back, wishing for the umpteenth time she had her weapons.

  The emperor reacted by angling his dagger toward her heart. “Since you don’t appear to have an answer, I’ll tell you. You’re here for one reason only: to secure the Chenayan succession or, in words a low-born Norin like you might understand, to produce a son.”

  Lynx flushed, and her fists clenched, all fear driven out by anger. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to go hang himself, but the dagger was a major deterrent. That didn’t stop her eyes from narrowing.

  “Still full of Norin defiance, I see. Well, I’ll soon knock that out of you.” Mott heaved himself up and moved in close. “I’ve watched you since your arrival here, and I’m not happy. At dinner, it was clear you have little interest in the Crown Prince of Chenaya.”

  “If I’m just a defiant low-born Norin, why do you even want me for your crown prince?”

  Dagger in hand, Mott used his other to touch her face. His clammy fingers pressed a line down her cheek, pinching her lips. “My, you are a wild one. I’m almost tempted to keep you myself.”

  She flinched and tried to pull back.

  He laughed, and his grip on her mouth tightened, yanking it out of shape. “But it’s not more bastards I need, so I suggest you overcome your squeamishness”—his smile turned ugly—“because if you don’t make me a happy announcement of a pregnancy within three months of your marriage, I’ll send my guardsmen stationed at Tanamre to bring me your father’s head on a pike.”

  “No!” Lynx cried out, before suppressing the shock Mott’s words induced.

  “And that’s how we welcome guests to the Heartland,” a low voice interrupted. A frail, gaunt man stepped into the room. A large ruby was the only color in his waxy face.

  “Felix.” Mott’s hand dropped from her face, and from his gruff tone, she deduced he was unhappy with the intrusion. Then, he laughed as Lynx stared shamelessly at Felix’s almost corpse-like features. “Girl, meet my little brother, Count Felix Avanov, Lord of the Chenayan Household. And father of the brilliant General Axel Avanov.”

  Lynx gaped; apart from the ruby, there was no possible resemblance between this waxy, shriveled creature and Axel. It wasn’t hard to imagine him reading her uncle’s letters.

  “Rest assured,” Mott continued. “My brother will take great delight in watching your every movement.”

  Felix hobbled over to join them.

  Mott grabbed Lynx’s chin, forcing her to look at him again. “Princess Lynx of Norin, I will tolerate your flagrant disregard of my dress rules only because my son seems to like ogling you. So, you may wear your skimpy dresses, but know this: unless you wish the view from your bedchamber to be forever marred by the sight of your parents’ rotting heads, you will provide me with the grandson I seek. Now go and do as I’ve commanded.”

  Lynx turned and headed for the door, hoping her ramrod-straight back hid the anger and revulsion roiling within her at this terrifying threat.

  Mother Saskia waited for her outside the emperor’s office. “Come, Princess, I will escort you back to your chamber.” Fighting against trembling limbs, Lynx walked with her in silence until they were almost at the top of the stairs leading to her apartment.

  Finally, the priestess smiled stiffly. “You look pale, Princess, even for a Norin.”

  Lynx’s fingers sought her hair, finding a new lock to twirl. The last thing she wanted was to discuss the emperor’s threats with the she-witch, so she changed the subject. “Why did you fetch me? It’s hardly the job for someone of your station.”

  The priestess’s lips twitched. “The emperor commands, and I obey. It’s what we all do.” They reached the landing, and the priestess turned her back on the guardsmen standing at attention there. Whispering so softly Lynx had to strain to hear, she added, “Remember, my dear, there is no place in Chenaya for powerful women.” She glided away before Lynx replied.

  Lynx watched her go in astonishment and then walked to Kestrel’s room. She stopped at the door and heard gentle snoring. It seemed her sister had not been called. She rested her forehead against the wooden doorframe.

  None of this made sense, although it did explain the surprising contents of her wardrobe. Still, surely, the emperor could see Kestrel was best suited for marriage to Lukan? Kestrel would probably be delighted to sleep with the crown prince, bearing him an army of children, if that was what they wanted, so why was Mott bombarding her with unreasonable threats? Threats she had no doubt he would carry out.

  And forcing Tao to marry a Norin? What was that about? Why would he want more Norin blood in his line? Weren’t there other families in his empire he could terrorize into coughing up a daughter to marry his son?

  She had no answers.

  There was only one certainty: she and Lukan had to produce a child. But it was up to the Winds to decide if that child would be a son.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Lynx was still curled up in bed after her night pondering Mott’s threats when she heard footsteps at her door.

  Someone knocked.

  Her heart leaped in her chest. “What now?” she whispered, reluctantly getting up to investigate.

  A guardsman stood at attention. He bowed and then spoke in a monotone voice, “Your Highness, I am commanded to tell you that the prenuptial breakfast will commence in one hour. Your lady-in-waiting will be along to collect you.”

  Lynx nodded her thanks, and the soldier knocked on Kestrel’s door. Without waiting to greet her sister, Lynx closed her door and made her way to her dressing room.

  A silky red dress caught her eye.

  She grabbed it before she could change her mind. After Mott’s threats, she could no longer afford to reject Lukan’s advances, and after their spat the night before, she had some work to do to rekindle Lukan’s ardor. Dressing in scarlet and styling her hair was a small sacrifice to make for her family’s safety.

  “I can always pull a pillowslip over my head on our wedding night so I don’t have to look at him.” She grimaced; it was unlikely he’d notice—he was so obsessed with the rest of her.

  Images of Axel’s strong face, lean body, and beautiful forearms floated before her mind’s eye. Her stomach flipped, shooting desire through every fiber. She gritted her teeth against it and tried to think of Heron, but Axel’s wicked smile mocked her attempt to evict him.

  “What’s the matter with me?” she muttered. “Axel is not only a Chenayan, he’s an Avanov, and he sent guardsmen to murder my people.”

  Frowning in disgu
st at herself, she grabbed the dress, some underwear, and a dainty pair of red boots, then headed for her bathroom.

  Despite her stress, she grinned with childlike glee as she surveyed the marble bath, big enough for her to lie in. What’s more, it was plumbed with unlimited hot water. Back in Norin, she had to carry buckets of warm water into her tent to fill a small metal drum when she bathed. This was pure luxury, the kind even she could get used to.

  She turned on the tap and closed the door to trap the steam. In the corner of the room stood an elegant dresser laden with a dozen pretty glass jars. She dumped her clothes on the floor and opened the lid of the closest one. The sweet scent of orange blossom wafted up to her. Squealing with delight, she plucked the stopper off the next jar and then the next, until the room was flooded with the heady scent of a dozen exotic flowers and spices.

  Perfume had always been her one feminine guilty pleasure, but she could rarely afford to buy any. Heron had once given her a tiny bottle, bought at a market in Lapis. She’d eked it out, making it last for years. Now, here on this dresser, waited more sweet-smelling things than she could have dreamed possible.

  Quivering with delight, she stepped back, considering which oil to use in her first palace bath. Her hand hovered over the jasmine and flitted to the frankincense before darting to the rose. Unable to decide, she finally poured a couple of drops from each bottle into the water. She closed her eyes and drank in the scent.

  Glorious? Oh, yes. Overpowering? Maybe a little.

  Right now, she didn’t care.

  Lynx lowered herself into the water and lay back to soak. Her skin was beginning to wrinkle when a respectful knock on her apartment door ripped her from her quiet meditation.

  Panicked, she leaped out of the water, grabbed a towel and her clothes, half-drying, half-dressing as she raced into her bedroom. She poked her head around the apartment door, but whoever had called was gone. That didn’t mean she had time to waste. She was busy with her hair when Kestrel rapped on her door.

  “Come on, Lynx. I’m starving. What are you doing in there?”

  “I’m coming. I’m coming.” Lynx shoved bits of hair back into the bun she was trying to construct. She’d seen a painting once of a girl with her hair in a knot, tendrils curling down her face. Heron had said it looked pretty—for someone without feathers and beads. “It’s just . . . damn, how can this be so hard?”

  Kestrel threw open the door. And gasped. “You look . . . stunning. But—but isn’t scarlet a bit much for breakfast?”

  “Is it?” Lynx started tugging at the ribbons on her corset. “What’s a breakfast color, then?”

  “Leave it.” Kestrel crossed the room in a blur of cream taffeta. “It’s perfect for you.” Her sister’s nose twitched and then erupted with sneezes. Finally, she managed to croak, “Oh my word, Lynx. The oils. How many did you use?”

  “Why? What’s wrong?” Lynx sniffed her arm but detected nothing strange.

  “You used them all, didn’t you?” Kestrel said, breathing through her mouth.

  “I guess,” Lynx replied, feeling sheepish. Kestrel was always so much better at the girly stuff than she could ever hope to be.

  “Everyone in a five mile radius of you is going to know we Norin are peasants—low-borns—who know nothing about how to use fine things. You will have to bathe again.”

  Lynx was about to say she didn’t care what they thought, but she stopped herself, because it wasn’t true.

  She did care. Very much. Her parents’ lives depended on her, and she could not fail them.

  That reminded her that she hadn’t told Kestrel about Mott’s threat. She opened her mouth to speak when someone cleared her throat.

  “You’re out of time,” Kestrel said. “Just keep downwind of everyone.”

  Both Lynx and Kestrel turned to the open door.

  A tall, stately woman with a sparkling sapphire next to her eye stood there. Lynx’s first thought was that she looked like Mott’s mistress, only older. A sister perhaps?

  The woman jerked into a perfunctory curtsy, causing her spectacular bejeweled gown to shimmer in the light gleaming from the wall sconces.

  “Good morning, Princesses. I am Lady Tatiana.” Her husky voice and the deep fissures in her tired skin, pasted with makeup, suggested that she’d spent too many nights in smoke-filled gambling rooms. Her nose twitched, and she sneezed. “By the Dragon, it’s fruity in here. Perhaps I should have come by earlier.” Sharp eyes darted to Lynx, and her lip curled. “Who knew I would need to teach you how to bathe?”

  Lynx’s face burned, and it was on the tip of her tongue to ask Lady Tatiana, Who knew I would have to teach my lady’s maid respect? But she swallowed the words; after all, Tatiana was right. She had been an idiot with the oils. Never again would she let Chenayan luxury beguile her.

  Tatiana waved a ring-encrusted hand. “Can’t be helped now. The men are waiting for breakfast.” She scooped up her skirt. “And we couldn’t possibly keep them waiting, could we? They’ll end up dyspeptic.”

  Lynx bit her lip until it ached as Tatiana led her through the palace.

  Once at the double doors leading into the great hall, the haughty high-born bobbed a curtsy and vanished amongst the diners.

  Only Tao waited for them. His eyes widened, and he took a hasty step back as Lynx approached. She guessed only politeness stopped him from waving his hand in front of his nose. Wincing with shame, she pointed to the empty space next to him, where Lukan should have been standing.

  Tao shrugged, offered Kestrel his arm, and started into the hall.

  Lynx touched his shoulder. “Is Lukan coming?”

  Eyes laden with concern, Tao said, “I don’t know. I stopped by his apartment, but he wasn’t there.” Tao hesitated and then added softly, “It didn’t look like he slept there, either.”

  Lynx’s stomach plummeted. “So, now what?” She glanced into the hall, packed with people, dreading having to walk in there on her own.

  “The show goes on. No one eats until we take our places.” Tao paused again, then added, “If you were with Lukan, you’d walk ahead of us. But now—” his voice trailed off.

  Lynx understood perfectly. So did Kestrel, who preened, fluffing her hair and patting her skirt at this unexpected windfall.

  “Lead on,” Lynx said, grateful that at least Tao wasn’t smirking at her.

  It was a long walk, past rows of tables, where watching high-born stood at attention at an ebony table on a dais, overlooking the crowd.

  Tao gestured for Lynx to take a seat on the right, two down from the head. He and Kestrel sat opposite her.

  “My father won’t be joining us,” Tao said. “He never eats breakfast.”

  Lynx blew out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. At least Mott wouldn’t see her alone.

  “And the other people?” Kestrel asked, gesturing at Tatiana and her two female companions, the only other diners, sitting at the other end of the long table.

  Tao didn’t even look at them. “The one who looks like she sucked a lemon is Lady Tatiana. Up until recently, she was my father’s mistress. Her sister, Lady Nithena, has taken her place. The pretty one is Axel’s mother. The one with the wart is Count Raklus’s wife. He’s our Lord of the Conquest.” He looked up at Lynx and smiled. “The person responsible for ravaging our neighbors and expanding our empire.”

  Conscious of the need to be above reproach in her dealings with Tao lest she again be accused of flirting, Lynx didn’t return his smile. Instead, she eyed Axel’s mother surreptitiously. “You can see where Axel gets his looks.”

  Tao laughed. “Don’t be fooled by Countess Katrina’s pretty face. She’s as tough as they come.”

  “She’d have to be, married to Count Felix,” Lynx muttered as an army of waiters besieged her.

  Clad in black and red, they bore dishes of pickled eggs and fish, cheeses in varieties she’d never before seen, breads made from every grain imaginable, and towering platters of fr
uit. Lynx dished up a bowl of strawberries, an almost unheard of delicacy in Norin, as someone pulled out the chair next to her.

  She glanced up to see Axel.

  He nodded a greeting at his mother who waved back. Instead of his oppressive black uniform, he was casually dressed in a simple white cotton shirt and a pair of black trousers tucked into knee-high boots. Without a waistcoat or surcoat, he looked nothing like the other high-born.

  Lynx flushed, and a traitorous flutter swooped through her stomach. She popped a couple of strawberries into her mouth to cover her unwanted reaction to his presence.

  Axel jostled Lukan’s empty chair. “Been spurned, have we?” Then he coughed and took a couple of steps back. When he finished spluttering, he laughed as he sat next to her. “Your hand slip with the oil bottle, Princess?”

  “So it would seem,” Lynx replied, letting him decide which question she was answering. “And are we back to calling each other by our titles?”

  “Only when you smell like something one would normally find in a brothel. I have to remind myself who you really are. Love the dress and the hair, though.”

  Knowing she deserved the one comment and pleased at the other, Lynx suppressed a smile. “So what brings you here?”

  “Breakfast.” He loaded a plate with pickled fish and black bread. It looked disgusting. “As you know by now, I have a healthy appetite.”

  “No . . . I mean, don’t you have another table to sit at? Some friends, maybe?” Lynx rolled her eyes. “What am I saying? You with friends? Unlikely.”

  “Nice try,” he said, around a mouthful of food. “But you’re sitting in my seat.”

  “Your seat?” Lynx gave Tao an accusatory look, but he was involved in a stilted conversation with Kestrel and didn’t notice her.

  Axel touched her hand, sending another spike of desire through her.

  Lynx pulled away quickly, wishing she could control her misbehaving body. Didn’t it know how much she hated him?