Aurora's Promise (30 page)

She glanced around at the men and women who were to be her
judges. The tender bud of hope struggled against the Council’s scorching
scrutiny. All eyes were focused on her with a weighty solemnity that revealed
little of their personal thoughts. She was surprised by the mixture of gender and
ages. She’d been expecting an all-male cast of ancients from what she’d seen of
the Royals. None of the Council was young, but several had years to go before
she’d consider them “old”.

An elderly man with gray hair and shocking blue eyes nodded
in response to Connyn’s statement and said, “Aurora Kilth, mate of Connyn
Kilth, Heir to the Third House, welcome.” The other Prophets and Elders joined
in as one at the
welcome.

With a dip of her head, she responded. “Thank you.” She
thought she should say more but had no idea what would be appropriate. Until
this moment, she hadn’t considered things like curtsies, bows and other
appropriate Royal exchanges. Did one speak only when spoken to? Inquire as to
the Elders’ health? The Prophets’ families? Or simply hope to remain standing
on legs that were beginning to shake beneath a gown that held more gems in the
bodice than she had ever seen outside a jewelry store back home?

Before she could decide, all the Prophets and Elders sat
down, save one from each side. The man who had spoken walked around from behind
the table to stand in front of them. Connyn inclined his head toward him and
said, “Aceyrn, Speaker for the Elders.” Aceyrn was joined by a short,
brown-haired woman from the other table who looked like she had descended from
an ancient line of pixies. Her expression was gentle, but there was a
steeliness in her light brown eyes that Aurora imagined had leveled more than a
few who had unwisely chosen to cross her.

Connyn inclined his head toward the woman and said, “Zyen,
Speaker for the Prophets.”

“Your chosen mate has petitioned this Council for a Matching
Ritual Blessing,” began the man.

Aurora nodded, hoping he’d get on with it. Even though the
woman had smiled up at her when Connyn had introduced them, Zyen continued to
look at her as if she were a new strain of bacteria being inspected under a
microscope.

“It is an unusual request,” he continued.

Aurora nodded again, not knowing what else to do.

“You have completed the Mating Rite?” the woman asked.

Aurora’s gaze snapped down to her. “Yes. I think so.” When
the woman’s eyebrows lifted and her eyes shifted to Connyn, Aurora tried to
explain. “I mean, as far as I know, we have. Since I have such limited
knowledge of the customs and rituals of Ilyria, I’m quite dependent on Connyn’s
understanding of these proceedings. If he says we have—”

“We have.” Connyn’s statement was hard and sure.

“Then we have.”

The woman nodded, turned to Connyn. “We can grant your
request, but the blessing will not bring about the effect you desire.”

Aceyrn turned to look at Zyen, but said nothing. Connyn’s
grip on Aurora’s fingers became almost painful. The temperature seemed to drop
twenty degrees as he went rigid beside her and she wondered if he was even
breathing. No one else in the hall moved or said a word.

Finally, Connyn released his death grip on her hand and
said, “It will. It must. The magic she can manifest—”

The woman’s amber eyes flashed. “Magic? What does magic have
to do with it?” Zyen blinked and then her expression cleared. She turned to
Aurora, surprised. “You haven’t told him?”

Aurora looked quickly from Zyen to the Elders and Prophets
behind her. A couple of the Prophets looked as if they understood her question,
but everyone else was watching her with expressions ranging from mild interest
to irritated confusion.

“Told me what?” Connyn’s voice was as sharp and heavy as an
executioner’s axe swinging down.

“I’m not sure,” she said.

He turned back to Zyen. “Continue with the blessing.”

Nervously, Aurora gauged reactions of those surrounding
them, but Connyn’s aristocratic mannerisms didn’t seem to provoke any response.

Zyen remained silent, as unperturbed and unmoved by Connyn’s
command as those still seated. Aurora searched the wide amber eyes of the
Prophet for direction, but found only patient expectation. An ominous shiver
snaked up her spine to her neck where it drew a noose of agony tight around her
breath.

With an almost sympathetic nod, Zyen said, “It’s time.”

Turning to face Connyn, Aurora pulled her hand free of his
and lifted her chin to stare into the storm-cloud-gray gaze of the man she had
taken as her mate. “I tried to tell you. It’s more than just the magic. I tried
to slow down the whole Mating Rite thing—”

“The Mating Rite
thing?
” Connyn’s growled.

Aurora took a deep breath. This wasn’t the way she had
planned on explaining. Of course, she had expected Ellen to do the explaining. “Remember
back in San Antonio at the Riverwalk?”

Connyn’s large hands fisted at his sides and his eyes
narrowed with impatience. “This is not the time to reminisce,” he said.

“I’m trying to explain—”

“We’ll talk later.” He turned back to the Elder and Prophet.
“The blessing.”

Zyen shook her head. “The Matching Ritual Blessing is for
children of Ilyrian Mystic descent.”

Connyn glared down at the diminutive woman. “She is nearly a
full-blooded Mystic. One of Magdalyne’s daughters who—”

“No,” Aurora interrupted, her voice surprisingly clear over
the thunderous beating of her own heart. Her words carried distinctly and
definitively through the sudden and absolute quiet of the Hall. Not a single
throat cleared nor a single robe rustled as she gave him the secret she had
held so dearly, the promise she had sealed with her life.

“I’m not one of Magdalyne’s daughters. I’m Lorraine
Montclair’s daughter. And my brother was Andrew Montclair, Amy’s husband.”

Connyn looked at her like she was speaking gibberish.

“Amy. Or as you know her, Esraina. That was her daughter I
was holding at the Riverwalk.”

She had braced herself for Connyn’s reaction, but he didn’t
move. He simply looked at her with a blank stare, his eyes empty and stunned.

Aurora rushed on. “She was afraid she’d be expected to leave
her child behind. She needed to know that the Royals would accept Chloe before
she would risk revealing herself. She couldn’t come to Ilyria without her
daughter and we didn’t know a person couldn’t be forced to go through a portal—”

“You lied to me.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I
never
said I was Esraina or a Mystic. You wouldn’t
listen. And then the Predators showed up and—”

“You left Esraina exposed to the Sleht.”

Anger, fueled by the fear that that was exactly what had
happened, poured out of her. “No! Amy, Ellen and I—”

“Esraina and Ellyna are Mystic daughters. You had no right
to—”

“I had every right! Amy is my sister! I promised her—”

“A promise? Like the vows you made to me?”

“Yes! I made a vow to her first, to my brother’s wife and
his only child. The only blood relative I have left after his death. I made
that promise before I even met you. A vow I was bound to keep—”

“Tell me,” he interrupted, “do you even know what a vow is?
The truth of it?” His voice had been hard before, but now it turned hostile.
Cutting. “Or is our entire world a joke to you?”

“A joke?” Aurora felt an icy claw plunge into her lungs and
scrape every molecule of air from them.

Connyn moved in closer, his broad shoulders blocking the
light. His face was granite sliced through with rage. “Have you enjoyed mocking
me? My family? The future of an entire world?”

His fury had shocked her, but his allegations shook her. “What?”
She couldn’t believe the depth his accusations reached. How far they delved to
tear at her heart. His words raked across her soul as merciless as a fire
ravaged dry timber. “No, it’s not like that. I would never—”

“No wonder you kept your magic hidden from me. What else
have you kept hidden from me?”

A biting, deep cold settled over her, filling the places
left empty by his withdrawal.
He
was the one whopushed her into
this place, the one who had refused to listen to reason or give her a chance to
explain. He had asked for, no
demanded
she become his mate, using her
body and her feelings to bind her to him.

She was the one who had wanted to slow down, to not rush
into vows and the whole damn mating process, to give Amy and Ellen a god damn
chance to get here and explain everything before anyone got hurt. And yet he
was accusing
her
? Withdrawing vows she had fought not to make in the
first place?

An anger so intense it bordered on madness flared and
exploded like a flame being loosed on pure oxygen. The power of her magic
pounded through her veins, drummed in time to her breath as she grappled once
again with his betrayal. He refused to listen, refused to make any attempt to
understand. She had laid everything on the line for her family. How
dare
he
accuse her of mocking his. Of not knowing the cost and consecration required of
a true vow.

She stepped back so she could look at him without giving him
the pleasure of making her crane her neck back to do so. “I promised my sister
I’d go with her to an alien world so Chloe could be safe and yet still grow
with the memories and knowledge I have of her father, my brother. I did that
the only way you allowed. Only mates and Mystic daughters return to Ilyria.
Remember?”

A flash of pain crossed his face and then was gone. But it
was quickly replaced by a forbidding resolve. “Aurora—”

“No. You were so worried about this Council’s blessing and
them finding out about my magic that you wouldn’t listen. Again. Let’s show
them the magic and get that part all cleared up for everyone.”

Aurora brought her arms up and yelled, “Back!” Everything in
the room but Connyn slid backward to be pinned against the wall. He stepped
toward her but she a held up an off-putting hand, stopping him in his tracks. “I
tried to tell you. Tried to delay your insistent charge into our supposedly
destined union. But you kept assuming the worst or just rolling over me with ‘
no
more discussion of things decided.’
You also said that fate had bound us
together. No out clauses. Remember that?”

She had been slowly moving toward the door and when he
lunged for her, his fingers only had the chance to brush over her arms before
she reacted. Flinging her arms out wide, she commanded, “Wind!” Air rushed in
from the windows, circled him in such a furious burst he couldn’t move.

The wind licked out and snapped at her dress, flung her hair
around her face. “It appears that you were wrong, Connyn Kilth, Heir to the
Third Royal House of Ilyria. There is an out clause to your Mating Rite. So
much for love and destiny.”

Her anger burned hotter as she watched realization dawn on
Connyn’s face. Narrowing her eyes, she raised her arms up over her head and
released the fire that had been destroying her soul since the minute he’d accused
her of lying, of mocking his world.

Fire spun around the room, joining the wind in its furious
dance. She spared one quick glance around, surprised by the lack of panic on
most of the Elders’ and Prophets’ faces. There were several who looked angry and
two whose malevolent glares contrasted sharply with Zyen’s expression. The
Prophet managed to look pleased even as her robes whipped around her body and
flames twisted higher and higher in ever-increasing spirals not a foot in front
of her.

Her magic was running so hot, it only took a well focused
thought of
open
to hurl the massive doors backward and the two guards
with them. She rushed out of the antechamber and into the outer gardens,
leaving her hope and love to burn in the maelstrom she had created behind her.

She was halfway across the outer courtyard when she heard
her name being called. The friendly, familiar voice pulled her up short. She
turned to see Bethany and Brooke rushing toward her.

“God, you’re gorgeous! We just came to add some moral support.”
Bethany exclaimed and then leaned in closer, her bright smile fading into an
expression of concern. “Oh my god, what happened in there? Are you all right?”

“Not exactly.” Aurora glanced over her shoulder. “I need to
go.”

“Would you like us to walk you home?”

With a hard shake of her head she said, “No. I can’t go back
there.” She started to tremble.

A shout came from the interior of the hall. Bethany and
Brooke each grabbed a hand. “Come on,” Brooke said. “Let’s get out of here and
you can tell us what’s going on.”

* * * * *

Connyn set his shoulders and wiped all emotion from his
face. At his father’s command, the door slid back and he entered his parents’
main sitting room. His mother was perched on the arm of his father’s chair,
leaning on his shoulder while they both read a paper Cyn was holding. She
looked up and smiled indulgently at him, gesturing for him to sit, not
acknowledging the items he held reverently in front of him.

When he didn’t sit, she leaned over and kissed his father on
the cheek. “I win,” she whispered. Brushing her long silvery blonde hair back
from her face, she rose and patted Connyn on his arm as she passed. “Kilth men,”
she said. “So predictable.”

“Sit,” his father commanded.

“I’ll be brief,” Connyn replied, not moving.

His father set aside the paper and pointed to chair across
from him. “I won’t.”

After a brief hesitation, Connyn bowed and began the ritual
release of the official regalia he’d been entrusted with at his maturity as the
next Heir.

“Stop,” his father ordered. “Put those down and tell me what
happened at Council.”

There was no man Connyn respected more than his father. But
at this moment he wished his father hadn’t earned it and he could dismiss the
order and get on with the actions his decision demanded.