Crystal Moon (34 page)

Heat rushed to the juncture of her thighs. Her heart began to

pound.

Soon. She started at Kyne’s amused thought.

Other than with the people of Andacor, she had never been

able to send or receive thoughts, just emotions. With each passing

minute the bond between Kyne and her grew. How far it would

progress she could only guess.

By the time they reached their encampment, dawn lightened

the eastern sky. Tents camouflaged with paint and brush blended

into the wooded glen, invisible until they were practically on

them. Tired, wounded men rested around small fires clutching

cups of steaming gana. The smell of wood smoke and the sweet

aroma of the nourishing drink barely covered the stench of

blood.

Katya rushed forward, hugged Kyne and burst into speech.

“Thank the Eternal One you’re safe. The battle is won. Runners

carried the news of DiSanti’s desertion. Demoralized, his troops

surrendered immediately. Graham has gone to coordinate the

disposition of DiSanti’s commanders, disperse the men and see

to the care of the wounded. Are you hurt? Sianna?” She looked

over Kyne’s shoulder and saw Laila slumped in the queen’s

arms. Her voice died away as she dropped into a deep curtsy.

“Your Highness.”

“Rise, my child. Please show me to a spot where I might

lie down. I fear I am quite done in.”

“Of course. Forgive my poor manners.”

Queen Theone’s chuckle eased the strain of the moment.

Kyne lifted Laila from Hakan’s back and handed her to the

waiting arms of another man, then lifted Queen Theone down.

Katya slipped her arm around the queen’s waist and the two

headed toward one of the small tents.

Sianna started after Laila. “There is much work for me

here.” She opened herself to the emotions flowing through the

camp. Though bruised and battered, the men’s feelings of

restrained jubilation washed over her. Even in those grievously

wounded, she no longer sensed deep despair.

Kyne grabbed her arm. “Do not overtax yourself.”

“But I must heal the injured.”

“Do what you must, but practice good judgement. Use your

healing talent only on those truly in need. I will join you later.”

“Where do you go?”

“To help Graham.”

“Be careful. My father will not accept defeat easily. He

will strike without conscience or warning.”

“Do not concern yourself. DiSanti will not prevail,” Kyne’s

tone brooked no argument.

“The need for vengeance still burns within you. Do not let

it reduce our love to ashes.”

“DiSanti’s death will not change my feelings for you.”

Sorrow filled her heart as she felt him block his emotions

from her. “Nor my love for you.” She touched his cheek and

gazed into his eyes. “Seek justice, but do not let revenge direct

your actions, or it will destroy you along with my father.” And

me.

He pulled her against him and slanted his lips over hers in a

possessive kiss, then put her away from him. “I will do what

must be done.”

Though the injured kept her busy, worry made the night

hours drag by. The sun stood straight overhead before Kyne

and Graham returned to camp.

One look at Graham’s pale, sweat-strained face and Katya

hustled the man to bed. Sianna could hear his grumbled protests

as she turned to Kyne. His harsh expression stilled her words

of greeting.

Exhaustion bowed his broad shoulders and dimmed the

sparkle in his dark eyes. Blood stained his hands and clothing

rusty brown. Dirt and sweat streaked his face.

“There is no glory in victory.” His head nodded forward as

if pulled by a heavy weight, shielding his face from her gaze.

“So many dead. Crippled. Lives destroyed. All for the greed of

one man.”

All through the night, Kyne had continued to provide the

protection she needed to work with the injured. Now, in his

anger and despair over the destruction her father had caused,

he closed himself away from her.

Cold and numb—pain would come later—she asked, “Do

you reject me?”

“Reject you?” His head shot up. Confusion disturbed his

stony calm. “Never! You are my heart.” His arms whipped

around her waist and drew her tight against him. Emotions

flooded over her. Rage. Fear. Wrath. Disgust. Guilt. But beneath

them all—love—for her.

To find peace he needed her strength. With a full heart she

gave, filling him with her energy. Like a never-ending ring, their

power circled between them, growing with each exchange.

He scooped her into his arms and carried her to a tent.

There her laid her down upon a pallet of soft furs and provided

her with a physical expression of his love.

Twenty

“May DiSanti and his misbegotten seed rot in eternal

damnation!” Timon shook his fist at the pink and gold of the

rising run. Tears blurred his vision, but not his resolve. DiSanti

would pay for his crimes against Dramon.

From the battlement, Timon stared out over the carnage

below. Like a putrid mist, the odor of blood and urine drifted up

from the bodies littering the open ground. Soldiers and villagers

alike moved among the dead, searching for loved ones. Earlier

Timon had sent out the palace guard to see to the onerous task

of identifying and burying of the dead.

Above, their raucous cries a discordant echo of the deep

melodious tolling of the castle bells, scavenger birds circled and

dipped, waiting for a chance to dive and snatch a quick,

gruesome meal.

“The King is dead. Long live the King.”

He barely heard the crier. With the news of DiSanti’s defeat,

Timon’s beloved father had smiled. For one brief moment his

breathing eased and his gaze cleared.

“Rule well, my son.” His throat damaged by nika, his raspy

whisper was nearly inaudible. “Tell your mother and sister I

love them.”

Then he had closed his eyes and died.

Only now did Timon realize the strength his father’s

presence had lent him. Now the burden of rule fell solely on his

shoulders.

“Sire?” A servant came up behind him.

Timon banished the tears from his eyes and his heart and

faced Pagas, one of the castle servants who had remained

loyal through DiSanti’s rise to power. “Yes.”

“Rul Cathor and his entourage have arrived.”

“Already it begins.”

“Pardon, Sire?”

“Nothing.”

“The queen is with them.”

“Is she well? And my sister?” He schooled the eagerness

out of his voice. Eight annum. Would they know him? How had

they changed?

“The queen is resting comfortably in her quarters. Though

tired she appears in good health. There is no sign of the princess.

Rul Cathor requests an audience. Perhaps he has further news.”

“Settle them into rooms and advise the Rul I will meet with

him at six bells in my chambers.” Cathor would have no news

of Thomasa. Three annum ago, Timon had felt the twin

connection between them break. Search as he did with his heart

and mind, he never again found trace of her. Hope died. His

sister was dead.

“As you wish.” Pagas hesitated.

“And?”

“Sianna DiSanti accompanies the Rul.”

Rage exploded. DiSanti had fled beyond reach. His daughter

was here. “I will see her burn in Oblivion.”

***

Sianna gazed at the opulent palace with wide eyes. Nothing

in her life had prepared her for the elegance of the royal palace.

Neither the simple, utilitarian enclave of the Sisters of Light,

her father’s well-appointed but cold castle, nor the rundown,

overcrowded Castle Vareck could compare. Polished marble

floors and walls, intricate tapestries woven with gold and crystal

silk thread, and rich aronwood furnishings upholstered with rare

furs and silks were a feast to her senses. Her booted feet clicked

a lively rhythm on the hard floor as she wandered about the

room and trailed her fingers over the lush fabrics. Fresh flowers

filled the room with a heady scent.

Laughing in delight, she twirled around and around in the

middle of the bedchamber to which the solemn servant had

escorted them. She dismissed her misgivings about the hostility

the man directed toward her.

“I gather you approve of our quarters, my lady.”

She turned toward Kyne, smiled and nodded her head in

what she hoped was a regal manner. “They will do, my lord.”

Her dizzy giggle somewhat spoiled the effect. She flopped

backward onto the bed.

He looked down at her. “For the first time in my life I feel

young and carefree. You’ve lifted a heavy load from my

shoulders.”

Had she? She chose to ignore his lingering desire for

vengeance. Perhaps her father had fled far away, and Kyne

would never have to choose between revenge and the love he

professed for her.

He spread his hand over the soft swell of her belly.

She covered his fingers with her own. “Soon, I’ll carry a

heavy load.”

He laughed and dropped down next to her. For a long time

words were not needed.

***

“My condolences on the death of your father.” Kyne knelt

before the boy king.

“He is at peace now. Rise, Rul Cathor.”

Kyne stood. Though he had yet to reach his full growth,

the new king’s eyes reflected an age and wisdom bred of pain

and adversity. Thrust at the tender age of six annum into a

situation many men would be unable to handle, Timon had

matured alone into a strong, honorable man. He would rule

well.

The tantalizing aroma of meat, bread and wine reminded

Kyne he’d foregone mid-meal to tumble Sianna on the broad,

silk-covered bed. At the thought, his body which he had believed

well-sated, stirred to life. He didn’t regret the trade, but now

his stomach emitted a loud rumble.

Timon’s laugh eased Kyne’s embarrassment. “Come share

last meal with me.” The king pointed toward a table loaded

with steaming platters of food set before the blazing hearth.

As they ate, they spoke of the future of Dramon—

reparations, repairs, reforms. Kyne was favorably impressed

with the young king’s knowledge of the inner workings of the

country. Dramon would prosper under this king’s rule. DiSanti’s

name was noticeably absent from the discussion. If the man

was wise, he’d find a way to disappear, but Kyne doubted they

had heard the last of him.

Part of Kyne welcomed the coming confrontation. Aubin

and Dramon deserved satisfaction for DiSanti’s evil. But below

his anticipation, Kyne dreaded the consequences of striking the

killing blow to Sianna’s father. Her warning against pursuing

vengeance sat heavy on his mind.

The fire burnt low and only crumbs remained when their

conversation turned to more personal matters.

“How fares my moth...the queen?” Timon asked.

“Your mother is a strong woman.”

“I barely remember her.” Timon’s facade of adulthood

slipped, and Kyne saw the lonely young boy hidden within.

“She insisted on bathing before presenting herself to you.

Then she fell asleep over her meal. Her attendants put her to

bed. I’m sure we’ll all feel the sharp edge of her tongue on the

morrow.”

“I look forward to it.” Timon smiled, then the mask of king

slid over his face. “Rul Cathor, for your service to crown and

country, your lands and title are forthwith restored. As soon as

the money counters calculate your losses, there will be a

monetary settlement as well. But, I also offer you a reward of

your choosing.”

“You are too generous, Sire. No reward is required.”

“Very well, but know that the crown...and I...owe you a

debt of gratitude. You have my pledge. If ever I can be of

assistance to you, you have but to ask and I will grant any

favor.”

Before Kyne could respond, the king continued. “On to

other things. I find myself in need of a First Minister. Have you

any suggestions?”

Kyne gave the matter some thought before he spoke.

“Minister Derric from the Southern Province proved his loyalty

on the field of battle. Or perhaps Rul Mikken of the Western

Province. He has always stood with the crown. There are many

who would serve well. I would be happy to compile a list of

candidates for your perusal.”

“That will not be necessary.” Timon grinned. “Are you

typically this dense?”

“Pardon?”

“I wish you to accept the position of First Minister.”

Kyne collapsed back in his chair. Next to the king, First

Minister was the most powerful man in Dramon. That was

how when King Dracken fell under the influence of nika, DiSanti

was able for all practical purposes to seize control of the country.

“First Minister? I am too young and lack experience. I’ve

never served as minister.” Suddenly, Kyne felt decades younger

than Timon.

Timon leaned forward. “I have neither age nor experience,

but I’ve learned that loyalty, compassion and wisdom count for

far more than either. Say yes. Dramon needs men of your caliber