Bride by Command (25 page)

When Calvyno asked—through Blane—for a late-night meeting, not too long after Morgana had fallen asleep, Jahn did not argue that the minister could wait until morning. It wasn’t as if he could sleep. He took the hidden stairway from an adjoining room on the all but deserted Level Seven to his chambers on Level Eight, and with Calvyno and Father Braen discussed the choice which was still—or so they thought—to be made. With Princess Edlyn, the natural choice in their opinions, murdered, the young Lady Verity victim of a terrible accident, and the acceptable Lady Morgana refusing the invitation, the field had been narrowed to three. Lady Danya, whom no one considered acceptable, and two potential brides who had not yet arrived: Lady Belavalari and Lady Leyla.

Jahn nodded often and tried to pay attention to their arguments for Belavalari and Leyla, should either of these women actually arrive. He was tempted to tell them that the new empress slept in this very palace—well loved, possibly with child, and ignorant of her position—but he did not. He would not tell them, or anyone else, before he informed Morgana of her good fortune. Would she consider her position good fortune? Or would she despise him for all the lies?

They left him in a foul mood as he pondered the days ahead. He paced, he sat and stewed in his own confusion and anger, and he cursed—at times quite loudly.

When there was a knock at his door, he was not surprised. Had Alix come to tell him he was home? Had Morgana found him?

Was someone else dead?

He was surprised to hear that his visitor was a “gift” from the king of Tryfyn, a woman, according to the sentinel. Jahn did not rise from his chair as he directed the nighttime caller to enter. He had no use for any woman other than Morgana, but this one might know something of Alix, and of the murder of Princess Edlyn. Perhaps she knew the truth.

“King Bhaltair sent you?” he asked.

“Yes.” The woman who walked into the room, as the sentinel closed the door behind her, was undeniably gorgeous and sensuous. She also matched Morgana’s quick but detailed description of the woman who had arrived this afternoon with Alix.

Jahn maintained his calm, at least outwardly. “I have heard a distressing rumor that Princess Edlyn was murdered.”

“I’m afraid that is true.” She had a lovely and strange accent.

“I also heard that my brother, Prince Alixandyr, did the killing.”

“That is not true.”

The sheer force of the relief that struck Jahn was strong. The death of a princess was a terrible thing, but to think that his own brother had done the deed was more than he could bear. He had no reason to believe this woman over those who accused Alix, but he did. “Thank the gods. I knew he couldn’t do such a thing, but I have received word from more than one quarter that he did this unspeakable deed. Where is he? Do you know?”

The woman hesitated a moment, and then she shook her head. She was not a very good liar.

“You are Sanura, correct?” he asked.

“I am. You have heard of me?”

“The sentinel who just yesterday delivered word of the princess’s death told me that Alix escaped with a blue woman named Sanura. Though you are no longer blue, you do match the rest of his rather vivid description.” Yes, she was strikingly beautiful and sensuous, very much the goddess she had been described. “There are also at least two Tryfynian soldiers in Arthes who insist upon taking Alix’s head, as well as two very insistent wild men in residence who are adamant about killing Alix for touching you.”

“Paki and Kontar are here?” she asked.

“Yes. We’ve been doing our best to keep them occupied, but they remain quite insistent on killing my brother.” Women and drink would occupy them only for so long, he imagined. “I cannot allow that to happen.”

“Don’t hurt them.” Sanura took a step toward him. Dressed seductively, bold in her actions . . . was she here to seduce him? “They’re only doing their duty.”

A few months ago he would have gladly allowed this woman to seduce him, but no more. “To protect you,” he said.

“Yes.”

“Where is Alix?” he asked again.

“I told you, I do not know.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Sanura stopped while she was still a few feet away. “You know,” she whispered.

“I know what?” Jahn snapped impatiently.

Her eyes lit up. “You know about Alix’s struggle. At least—you suspect that something is not right with him.”

Jahn fought to keep his face expressionless. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“The shadows, the dark battle, the tight control . . .”

Unable to remain seated any longer, Jahn placed both hands on the arms of his chair and stood slowly. “You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

“I know too well, I’m sad to say,” Sanura said. “For years a darkness has lived within Alix, wishing to rise and take power, to take control. His determination has kept that darkness deep within until I unknowingly unleashed that which Alix has fought all these years. What you do not know, what I have just come to understand, is that both parts, he who fought and he who tried to rise, are one and the same. Alix was fractured, but he is fractured no more.”

“So you do know where he is.”

“Yes.” Sanura reached into the folded fabric across her midsection and pulled out a dagger. “I came here to murder you.”

Jahn knew there were those in the palace who had expected betrayal from the prince, had perhaps even desired it, for a long time. He had even known that there were dark moments when Alix had desired as much himself. “Did he send you?”

“No,” Sanura said emphatically. “He plans to do the assassination himself, but I cannot allow that to happen. He will never recover from such a dark deed.”

“Neither will I, I imagine,” Jahn said, hurt beyond belief to know that it had come to this. He pointed to the dagger. “What made you think you could kill me with
that
?”

“My plan was simple. I would get close to you, promising all that I was meant to give, and when you were lost in desire, I would stab you through the heart.”

“Ouch.” Jahn laid a hand over his heart. “Lucky for me I have enough womanly trouble at the moment and would not let you get so close.”

Sanura tossed the knife onto the bed. “I am responsible for the change in Alix, though it was unknowing. I would never hurt him, never.” She looked boldly at Jahn, unflinching. “I love him.”

“Enough to commit murder in his name?”

She glanced at her weapon, which was now out of reach. Did she so soon regret tossing it aside?

“Apparently not,” she said.

“So, what now?” Jahn asked, losing what little was left of his patience. “Less than three months ago I set in motion a silly contest for the position of empress, and at this moment two of the candidates are dead, killed en route by accident or malicious intent; my brother is wanted dead by two burly, saber-wielding madmen and more than a handful of Tryfynian soldiers; Alix appears to have lost the battle he’s fought for so long; and I . . .”

“You?” Sanura prodded.

Jahn shook his head. “My own problems matter little, at the moment. Where is Alix? Is there any way to save him from this?” He tiredly ran a hand through his hair. “As if you would know.”

“But I do know,” Sanura said. She stepped closer, and for a moment he wondered if she had hidden another knife in her form-fitting clothing. “You love Alix, and so do I. Together we can save him. Will you help me, My Lord Emperor?”

After a moment of deliberation he asked, “What do you need?”

Sanura sighed. “Time, m’lord. I need time.”

“There are ten days remaining until the first night of the Summer Festival, ten short days until I will be obligated to make my choice.” Not even this woman, an unexpected ally, needed to know that his choice had already been made. “Will that be enough time?”

“I hope so, m’lord. With all my heart, I hope so.”

MORGANA
woke with the sun, ready to face another dull and trying day in the palace laundry in spite of Jahn’s insistence that her time there was done. He’d said those things last night only because he didn’t like to see her tired. Her husband, however, had other ideas. He said he was due some time off, and he planned to spend the next few days with her. She argued with him, but just a little bit. In truth, she liked the idea of being nothing more than his wife and eventually mother to his children. They would get by, just as other sentinels and their families did.

It was strange that he’d been given a raise in pay and a holiday at the same time, but she would not complain. She liked the idea of having Jahn to herself for a few days, and she did not for one minute question how they would spend that time. Food would be delivered to their door. They would spend most of that time without clothing, she suspected. They would laugh and love and plan for the future, and she would tell him again how much he meant to her.

Over a lavish breakfast which had been delivered by a grumpy Iann, Jahn asked her how she wanted to spend her leisure time—when he was not available to entertain her. Did she wish for paper and pen so she could write poetry? Did she wish to take up painting? What about needlework? She punched him playfully in the arm when he had the nerve to mention needlework, after her days spent mending clothes. She didn’t care if she never saw a needle again as long as she lived!

She wanted to tell him that she thought she might be with child, but she still wasn’t sure. She would be so horribly disappointed if she wasn’t, and so would Jahn, if she knew him at all. There was no reason to risk causing him pain. She would share the news when she was certain. Still, she found herself asking, as she reached for a piece of fruit, “Jahn, will we continue to live in this room once we have children?”

He looked taken aback. “Are you . . .”

“Not to my knowing, but I have been thinking . . . it’s bound to happen soon.”

“I don’t think we will still be here when the time comes.”

“Why not?”

“Things change,” he said cryptically. “I do promise you that you and our children will be well taken care of, always.”

“I never doubted that.”

Morgana smoothly moved into his lap. “I don’t want to live here when we have children,” she said. “I want a small house with a garden, and a grassy place where the children can play in the sunshine. I want my own kitchen, and I will learn to cook and to do my own laundry. I don’t want sentinels outside my door at all hours of the night and day, or an escort every time I go to the market.” She smiled. “I will be the mistress of my own house, our own palace, no matter how small it might be. I don’t want to share our lives and our home with an emperor who once dared to command me to present myself for his inspection.” She huffed in indignation at the memory.

“We did just get here,” Jahn argued, and he looked slightly pained, a bit annoyed. Did he not want the same things she did?

“And we don’t have to move out immediately, but”—she draped her arms around his neck—“think about it.”

“I love you, Ana.”

“And I love you,” she said, still surprised by how easily the words she had never even dreamed to speak came to her.

She was perfectly, completely happy with this life she had never known was possible for her. Her curse was warmed and gone; her husband loved her; she would give him a child—and then more, in years to come. She no longer thought concealing her curse to be a lie, since it was gone. Entirely, wonderfully gone.

 

 

DANYA
had not been awake very long when there was a knock on her door. She answered sharply, and one of the many servants who saw to her needs walked into the room.

The girl did not smile. No one did, not at Danya. “My Lady, your uncle has come calling. He insists on seeing you right away.”

“My uncle?” Danya asked impatiently.

“He says you should be expecting his arrival,” the girl said.

Danya felt a chill walk up her spine. It was him. It was the hooded man, come to demand her alliance in return for her son’s safety. He was here to give her what she wanted, the position of empress, and at the same time offer safety to the child she’d believed buried long ago. There would be a price, though. He had been very clear about that part of the bargain.

“Should I show him in?” the girl asked, when Danya did not immediately respond.

“Yes,” Danya said in an emotionless voice. “Have my uncle escorted to the anteroom and inform him that I will join him shortly.”

She needed to dress, to make herself pretty, to steel her spine. Meeting the cold hooded man again would not be an easy task.

“For Ethyn,” Danya whispered when the maid was gone.

She took her time getting ready, even though she knew the hooded man would not count patience among his qualities. More than once her mind went to Angelo and the way he had comforted her without expecting any comfort in return. She thought about the solace he had offered, and how his brief but precious friendship might’ve saved her sanity. It had been a weakness to claim that easy time with him. More than once she had thought about telling him everything and asking for his help, but that wasn’t possible. Not only would such a weakness endanger Ethyn’s life, it would also endanger Angelo’s. It was best to let go of silly notions of being saved and concentrate on pleasing the cold man she had made her ally. And still, she tucked his handkerchief into her bodice, and it gave her strength.

When she was prepared, physically and mentally, Danya made the short trip from her bedchamber to the adjoining room, where she might have taken visitors if she had made a point of making friends. She had never seen the hooded man’s face, and at first she did not think the ordinary-looking man sitting upon the sparest chair in her anteroom could possibly be the monster she knew. Perhaps this was someone who worked with the hooded man, someone who did his bidding as she did. And then her visitor lifted his head and his eyes met hers, and she almost fainted from the rush of evil that emanated from him. Reddish brown hair and pleasant appearance aside, there was no mistake that this was the hooded man.