Crystal Moon (4 page)

unspeakable agonies until death set them free. Nothing cured

them or eased their torment. So powerful was the drug, even

her skills could not touch the source of their pain.

In the flickering firelight, Sianna watched Kyne’s face as

he spoke. Unable to read his emotions, she studied him for

physical clues, which were often as telling. His brow furrowed

above dark eyes flashing with anger. High cheekbones, an

aquiline nose and a square chin created a harsh yet compelling

visage. No smiles had forged the deep lines bracketing his mouth

or the fine lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes.

“What of the young prince? Does DiSanti feed him nika,

as well?” Graham asked.

“I pray not.” Kyne’s voice was strained. “If so, Dramon is

doomed. DiSanti keeps Prince Timon in seclusion, citing his

poor health. I heard talk of a marriage being arranged for the

child.”

“How is that possible? He’s but ten and four annum. Will

the Council allow it?”

“If the king wishes it, the Council will not object. And with

DiSanti doling out the nika, the king will follow his suggestions.

Perhaps that’s where this woman comes in.”

Sianna felt Kyne’s gaze on her. She shivered as if touched

by ice. He had discerned her father’s plans correctly. But what

did he know of her?

“If DiSanti were to marry his daughter to the king’s son, he

would gain even more power in court. And if the king were to

die...”

“DiSanti would in effect rule the country by his daughter

through the prince,” Graham finished Kyne’s thought.

“It was but a rumor.”

“Rumors are often rooted in fact, and this one sounds like

DiSanti.” Graham stirred the dying embers of the fire and added

another log. Flames shot up. Shadows did an eerie dance across

the men’s faces. “Did you have any luck in gaining an audience

with the King of Arete? Will he support us?”

“No. His attention is focused elsewhere. My trip was

wasted.” Failure sat like a physical presence on Kyne’s

shoulders.

“What now? Our forces gather in the mountains. We must

move soon, before winter is upon us, or delay until Spring.”

“Perhaps Katya has given us a way to force DiSanti from

his stronghold.” Kyne looked over at Sianna.

She closed her eyes against the loathing in his, relieved

when he turned back to Graham. “We leave for the fortress at

first light. I’ll make my decision there.”

Graham rose from his place by the fire. “Yes, Rul. I’ll see

to the quinar.”

“Good eve to you, my friend.”

Sianna could hear the hint of laughter in Kyne’s voice.

Graham gave a wry smile and said, “And to you, friend.”

After Graham left, Kyne sat motionless, his gaze resting

on the fire’s glow. She searched his face for any trace of

softness. Other than his obvious affection for Graham and his

love of Katya, Kyne appeared hard and unyielding. Why could

she read nothing of his emotions behind the expressionless mask

of his face? Even with her father and Laila she sensed the

existence of the emotions hidden from her. Her inability to pierce

Kyne’s facade disturbed and frightened her.

“You may cease your pretense of sleep.”

His quiet accusation made her jump. Holding the blanket

around her shoulders, she sat up. She could guess Kyne would

respect courage and disdain begging. Not that she intended to

beg.

Lifting her chin, she faced him. “Why have you abducted

me?”

A look of surprise crossed his face, quickly replaced by

disdain. “I did not abduct you. Katya did. But now that you are

in our hands, you will serve our purpose well. Through you we

will reach your father. He will pay for his crimes.”

“By what right will you be his judge, jury and executioner?”

“The right of blood—the blood of my parents and brother

spilt by your father.”

Sianna forced herself not to cringe in the face of Kyne’s

fierce scowl. “Perhaps you overestimate my value to him.”

His hard stare unnerved her. “I think not. What man

wouldn’t value a daughter such as you—young, lovely, intelligent

and marriageable.” The words rolled off his tongue like vile

insults. “Are you your father’s key to the throne? By himself

he can never truly rule Dramon. Does he think through your

marriage to the young prince can he gain the power he craves?”

Sianna couldn’t argue or refute Kyne’s logic, but neither

would she confirm it. Her father had told her much the same

when he informed her of her betrothal to Prince Timon.

Taking a deep breath, she asked, “Who was Aubin?”

She gasped as Kyne reached out and encircled her throat

with his hand. His fingers felt hot against her chilled flesh.

Emotions—Kyne’s emotions—flooded over her, a torrent of

impressions she could make little sense of, so fast did they hit

her.

“Do not speak his name. I should kill you now and be done

with it. DiSanti need never know we fish with dead bait.”

Fear coiled in Sianna’s belly as his fingers tightened. Wave

after wave of jumbled thoughts and feelings swamped her. Still

she met his gaze steadily. “Kill me if you must, but before you

do answer my question.”

His grip eased. “How innocent you sound. If I didn’t have

proof of your guilt, I might believe you knew nothing of your

father’s plan.” He pulled his hand away and rubbed it absently.

She placed her hand where his had been. As if tossed and

tumbled in a pounding surf, she felt disorientated. Her pulse

beat wildly. “What proof?” When he didn’t answer, she

continued. “Believe what you will. I am innocent. I don’t know

of any plans my father might have, beyond his desire to see me

married to the prince.”

“You lie convincingly, Laila...”

Laila. The rest of Kyne’s words were lost to Sianna. They

believed she was Laila. In shock, she remembered her sister’s

strange distraction on the journey home, and her sudden

disappearance.

“But I’m not...” she started, then stopped as what Kyne

was saying registered.

“...even now you may carry Aubin’s child.”

Understanding dawned. Laila and Aubin had been lovers.

These people believed her sister had somehow conspired with

their father to kill Aubin. Sianna’s heart rejected the possibility

of her father being so wicked, and she knew Laila incapable of

such an act. Sianna thought back to Laila’s impatience to return

home. It hadn’t been the attitude of one contemplating murder,

but that of a person eager to rejoin a loved one.

She started to protest her innocence once again, to reveal

her identity, to speak for her father.

“Pray you hold Aubin’s seed within you. Only the possibility

of his child growing in your belly keeps you alive—at least until

its birth.”

The venom in Katya’s voice from behind her made Sianna

cringe. If she told them of their mistake, would they kill her

merely for being her father’s daughter? Most likely. And what

of Laila? Where was she? Did she indeed carry a child? In an

instant, Sianna decided to continue the charade and hope for a

chance to escape.

She drew herself up and stared at Katya. “Then until you

are certain of my pregnancy, perhaps you should take better

care of me. Being wet, cold and jostled about can’t be good for

the child I might carry.”

At Sianna’s boldness, surprise registered on Katya’s face.

A smile softened the stern set of Kyne’s lips. The skin

around his eyes crinkled and transformed his harsh features.

“She’s correct. We must have a care for her well being. Provide

her with warm clothing, a dry place to sleep and feed her well.”

Color stained Katya’s fair skin. “See to it yourself.” With

an angry snort, she spun around and stalked away.

Kyne gave a bark of laughter and turned back to Sianna.

“So the lambie has teeth.”

“And claws as well.” Sianna chose her next words carefully.

“I’ll no longer sit quietly while you accuse my father and me of

crimes and manhandle me. I’ve done nothing to deserve such

treatment. My only sin is being my father’s daughter. I bear no

guilt for Aubin’s death.” Nor, I pray, does my father.

At the mention of Aubin’s name, amusement faded from

Kyne’s face. Sianna paused, regretting the disappearance of

the briefly viewed gentler Kyne. Humor no longer lit his dark

eyes, but neither did anger tighten his lips. Weariness lay on

him like a heavy yoke, bowing his broad shoulders.

He rose and looked down at her. “Spare me your protests

of innocence. You bear the taint of DiSanti’s blood. Even

without guilt of your own, that is enough to condemn you in my

people’s eyes. Soon enough your fate will be decided.”

She took faint hope in that he refrained from speaking his

own condemnation of her, but discerned nothing from his distant

expression.

“Sleep now. We leave at first light.” For a moment their

eyes met, then he strode away into the darkness, leaving her

alone with her thoughts and fears.

All that remained of her brief contact with him was a

kaleidoscope of emotions chasing through her mind. Other

people’s emotions flowed into her as easily as air into her lungs.

Why was it different with Kyne? Without her inner sight, she

felt blind. To understand Kyne, she must touch him. The thought

made her tremble, whether in dread or anticipation, she couldn’t

tell.

***

At the edge of the clearing, a sentry greeted him, but Kyne

didn’t linger. Though he no longer claimed the title, he knew the

people still considered him their Rul and, as such, he held the

woman’s fate in his hands. He found the weight a difficult one.

His thoughts centered on the slim young woman now curled

by the fire. In exile for the past eight annum, Kyne remembered

little of DiSanti’s only daughter. As a young man at court Kyne

had paid scant attention to the child. But he had thought her

older than Aubin’s eight and ten annum. This woman was barely

more than a girl. Could he sentence a mere child to death?

He remembered the soft curves of her young body. No,

she was not quite a child.

And if she carried Aubin’s babe? What then?

Though he stared into the darkness, he could still see her

dirt-smudged face, a blood-crusted scrape on one cheek marring

her smooth, porcelain complexion. Delicate brows arched over

eyes as blue as the towering peaks of Dramon’s Azul Mountains,

while blue-black hair fell in a tangled mass to her waist.

He scrubbed his palm against his thigh as if by doing so he

could erase the feeling of her cool, silken skin from his memory.

What had happened when he touched her? When his fingers

closed around her throat, he had sensed her hidden fear and

felt the pain of her scrapes and bruises as if they were his own.

The sensation left him shaken. Though he was always conscious

of the feelings of others, this went beyond anything he’d ever

experienced.

Despite his hatred of her and her father, the woman’s show

of courage struck a chord within Kyne. She faced him without

cowering, demanding answers, refusing to acknowledge her

guilt. Her claims of innocence sounded sincere, and her eyes

meet his in censure. Was she perhaps the unknowing dupe of

her evil father?

Kyne shook his head. Aubin, with his dying words,

condemned DiSanti’s daughter. The parchment she wrote was

solid evidence of her responsibility. In it she asked Aubin to

meet her at the pub where he had been attacked and killed by

DiSanti’s men. This proof of her treachery hardened Kyne to

her pleas of innocence. He would do what he must to avenge

his brother and bring about DiSanti’s fall.

***

The next morning, Sianna stretched beneath the heavy fur

rug. Despite Katya’s harsh words the night before, she had

provided Sianna with warm, dry clothing and bedding, as well

as a hearty meal. Though Kyne’s sister served all with a sullen

attitude, Sianna didn’t argue. She needed her strength. Self-

preservation decreed she should run. She looked around the

mountain camp. But where to?

Above, the sky lightened, while a mist hung over the ground.

She threw back the covering and shivered in the moist morning

air. Around her the sounds of camp breaking filled nature’s

silence. The murmur of sleep husky voices, the creak of saddle

leather, the rumbling calls of the quinar being readied for the

trip.

Katya’s strident voice shattered the peace. “I’ll not take

her with me. Deju is worn from hard riding these last few days.”

“You can ride with one of the men and mount the woman

alone on Deju,” came Kyne’s calm reply.

“Are you mad? What if she tries to run? Deju is the fastest

of quinar. How will we catch her? Besides who knows if she

can ride. Mount her with Graham.”

“Graham’s quinar carries more weight with Graham alone

and can no longer bear the extra. The other men’s hatred of