Hastur Lord (58 page)

“
Vai dom
. I am yours to command.”
As I have always been.

“You—you can’t do this! I am Lord Hastur, your sworn liege!
I am King!
” For a breathless moment, Rinaldo glanced about the chamber. The other members of his council refused to meet his eyes. Tiphani had stopped sobbing, her face as pale as marble.

“Lady,” Regis said to her, “my counsel, if you will have it, is for you to return to your husband. He cares deeply for you. In the days to come, your son will need both his parents.”

She stood there, stunned, until Gabriel led her to the door and delivered her into the care of one of the Guardsmen. Although she left the chamber docilely enough, Regis caught the look of pure malice that she directed, not at himself, but at Rinaldo.

Regis broke the awkward silence. “Rinaldo, you and I are not finished. What I have to say to you next concerns not only Hastur but all the Domains. According to law as well as custom, any such action must be witnessed by the Comyn. In the absence of a formal Council, we will accommodate tradition as best we can.”

“What are you talking about? I am King! You cannot make me do anything! As for the Comyn, they are without consequence. I do not grant them any rights whatsoever over me.”

“But
I do.
I summon you to answer me in the Crystal Chamber. There, as has been custom since the Ages of Chaos, we will discuss the future of Hastur. I will not insist we meet immediately. You and your lady wife deserve time to mourn your loss,” for although there had never been an actual pregnancy in fact, it had existed in their minds and hearts. “Therefore, the hearing will take place tomorrow at this very hour before all members of our caste who can be assembled.”

Rinaldo gaped at him. Regis thought ruefully that if he had been decisive to begin with, matters would never have deteriorated to this point. But that opportunity, like last winter’s snows, was gone past recall.

“I warn you,” Regis went on, “to take no precipitous action during this time. I have issued a summons to you, and a truce now exists between us until the matter is resolved.”

Around the room, heads nodded. The Guardsmen looked frankly relieved.

“If you do not behave with honor or if you fail to appear at the Crystal Chamber,” Regis added, aware of the tightness in his jaw, “then all the world will know you have agreed to whatever I decide in your absence. Think hard on it,
my brother,
for you may not care for the result.”

Regis did not wait for an answer. Giving the council members a scowl worthy of his grandfather, he strode through the door, with Danilo and Gabriel a half pace behind.

“H
ave you gone mad?” Gabriel asked Regis as the three men hurried from the main part of the Castle and crossed a series of courtyards to the nearest gate.

Regis felt the subtle, sustaining touch of Danilo’s
laran. I could not do this without him, any more than I could have come this far without Linnea.

“No,” Regis answered with a ghost of a smile. “For the first time in far too long, I have gone sane.”

The gate was locked from the inside, but it was unguarded. Regis lifted the latch. “Gabriel, you must return to Javanne and tell her what happened. I will need both of you present tomorrow. You have a rightful claim to represent Alton in Lew’s absence.”

Gabriel’s eyes darkened with understanding. “By all the gods, you mean to do it.”

“In full view of the Comyn, whatever is left of us. In order for the outcome to be binding, the challenge must be seen as legitimate beyond question.”

“We’ll be there,” Gabriel said. “And Mikhail as well. He sent word he expects to arrive late today, bringing Kennard-Dyan with him.”

The news gave Regis an unexpected lift to his spirits. Danilo breathed, “What a stroke of luck.”

“Mikhail left Ardais as soon as he received word about his sister’s abduction,” Gabriel explained. “He meant to comfort his mother, although he could not have known what would come next. He has an extraordinary sense of timing, if I say so myself.”

“He will be most welcome,” Regis said. With a bow, Gabriel withdrew back into the Castle.

Regis and Danilo headed for the town house in silence. Regis drank in the comfort of having Danilo once again by his side. There was still work to be done, work that only Danilo could do.

“Danilo, once you accomplished wonders gathering together a temporary Council when we debated the question of Federation membership,” Regis began, hearing the heaviness in his own voice. “I would not have it said I dealt with my brother secretly or through subterfuge. As it is, there will be too many vacant places in the Crystal Chamber—”

“Don’t,” Danilo said.

Regis paused, raising one eyebrow in question.

“Don’t ask me to leave you so soon. I’ve hardly—” Danilo’s voice caught in his throat. His eyes were wide and dark, filled with emotion. When he spoke again, his voice was so soft that no one but Regis could have heard: “I’ve clung to hope for so long, without even a word.”

They had come to a halt, standing very close, leaning toward one another without conscious intent. Regis felt the warmth of Danilo’s breath on his face. He thought of Linnea at home, of this moment, of Kierestelli hidden in the Yellow Forest. Of Felix’s blood, sticky beneath his fingers. Of the flare of light and power beyond his own.

Too much, it was too much for one human heart to bear alone.

Not alone,
came Danilo’s thought.

Regis drew in a breath. Danilo raised his hand, quick as a dagger in the hands of a master, and brushed Regis on the lips with one fingertip. It was only a fleeting touch, but enough to shatter doubt.

“Now let me take you home,” Danilo said, with the hint of smile. “I cannot in good conscience allow you to wander the streets unguarded.”

Still, Regis did not move. “Home. To Linnea.” And to all the questions implicit in those few words.

“Home,” Danilo agreed, “to whatever has changed and not changed. For many years, we have both known that you must marry. I wished it were not so, but it is the way of the world. You are Hastur. Your destiny was laid down before you were born.”

Regis did not know whether to laugh or weep. “Then I should have chosen my parents more carefully.”

Danilo did not rise to the old joke. “I would not have you other than you are. In any way.” He paused. Then: “You once said you would not marry any woman you could not respect and cherish, who did not return those feelings. I think you have found her.”

Understanding rose slowly, trailing inexpressible relief. Danilo and Linnea might never be close, but neither would question the other’s devotion. Or place in his heart.

Although the day was mild for spring, a chill wind curled through the street. Danilo, dressed only in indoor clothing, shivered. Regis glanced back at the Castle.

Danilo followed the movement of his eyes. “I would not willingly set foot in the Castle again, except at your side. Tomorrow, either I will be able to retrieve my possessions or it will not matter.”

Regis unclasped his own cloak and draped it over Danilo’s shoulders. Danilo looked as if he would protest, that he could not accept the cloak while Regis had none, that Regis looked like a wild man with his stained, torn clothing and disheveled hair. The blood on his shirt had dried to a crust.

Danilo said nothing to repudiate the gift of lord to liegeman, of lover to beloved, and the two went on together.

When Regis and Danilo arrived at the townhouse, Linnea asked no questions, although she must have had many. She took a brief, hard look at the two of them, then summoned servants and issued orders for hot baths, hot food, and hot spiced wine, enough for a company traveling in the Hellers in winter.

Danilo bowed to her. “Lady Linnea, I thank you—”

“Danilo, we are friends. We have no need of such formalities.” Linnea did not touch Danilo, for as a Tower worker and Keeper, she had been trained to avoid any but the most deliberate physical contact, yet the warmth of her voice was as welcoming as an embrace.

“Lady, I was not sure—”

“There will be time enough for discussion once you are settled. Food and hot water will take a short time. I shall return presently with someone you want to see.” With a smile, she glided from the room and shut the door firmly.

As Danilo turned to Regis, his expression melted like ice in spring, giving way to wild joy. The next moment, they were in each other’s arms, holding one another as if they could never let go. Danilo was thinner than Regis remembered him, his muscles rigid from long- held tension.

“Regis, when you did not appear at the coronation, I was so afraid—” Danilo said in a choked voice.

“I never thought—I’m sorry I put you through that—and the whole dreadful business of becoming Rinaldo’s paxman.”

“You owe me no apologies.”

“I—”

Danilo put an end to further protest. Time fluttered on gossamer wings for Regis as Danilo captured his mouth with his own.

The kiss began hard and urgent, driven by pent-up longing. Desire catapulted into tenderness and demanding physical need and relief and feelings beyond words.

Without breaking away, Regis ran his hands over Danilo’s body. He pulled the front of Danilo’s shirt loose. Danilo’s skin was taut and fine-grained over hard muscle and the soaring arch of bone.

Regis buried his face in the curve between Danilo’s neck and shoulder. Heart racing, heat throbbing in his blood, he inhaled the musk of arousal and clean masculine sweat.

With an effort, Regis wrenched away, not wanting to have Linnea return and find them so. She was a telepath, surely she could feel the sexual hunger between the two of them. Reaching, he sensed a wall like polished quartz where her mind should be. She had closed off her psychic awareness, even as she had physically closed the door.

They fell on the divan, tugging at each other’s clothing. Regis could no longer tell where his own sensations ended and Danilo’s began: the fire that fueled every touch, demanding again and
more
and
deeper,
the convulsive opening of one heart to the other. Only the flimsiest barrier separated them, like the border between a flame and its reflection.

As their bodies joined, Regis felt an electric pulse blaze up in him like living lightning. It soared through them both, swift and bright and vital. One moment, it seemed to rush from Danilo into himself, past throat and heart and groin. The next, it was Regis who poured himself out and felt Danilo’s ecstatic response as keenly as if it were his own.

Afterward, they lay panting and replete, half on the divan, half on the floor. Danilo chuckled, soft and deep in his chest. Regis, who had been sprawled with his head on Danilo’s chest, stirred.

“Best to get dressed,” he murmured, reaching for his underclothes. “There will be time again, later.”

Danilo regarded him with a slow, provocative smile. “We have all winter to make up for.”

“Count on it.” Regis snatched up Danilo’s pants and tossed them at him. “But first, there’s work to do. Make yourself decent. Or would you rather be in your current state when my wife walks in?”

When Linnea did return, both men were fully dressed. Even the divan cushions had been replaced in their proper order. A discrete touch of
laran
and a tap on the door signaled Linnea’s request to enter.

She carried the baby on one hip and a towel draped over her shoulder. “Come and meet your namesake, Danilo.”

Danilo took a step closer. Amazement tinged with awe spread across his face, and Regis was struck yet again by how handsome, how expressive he was. How quick to delight as well as to despair.

When Linnea held out Dani, Danilo raised both hands with an expression of consternation. A moment later, she had arranged him on the divan with the baby on his lap. Dani looked up, eyes wide. The two Danilos stared at one another. Regis watched, unsure whether his son was on the brink of glee or wailing. Then the baby’s mouth curved in a blissful smile, and Danilo too was laughing.

Baby Dani gave a little burp. Linnea swept him back into her arms, facing the towel on her shoulder, just in time for him to bring up a small amount of milk.

“Now, enough of that,” Linnea laughed. “The bath water is hot. Off with you!”

A short time later, Regis had bathed and eaten, and was sitting before a comforting fire with a steaming goblet. For the sake of a clear head, he had insisted on
jaco
instead of wine. Danilo was still upstairs, soaking, and the bustle of the household had quieted.

“Tell me what happened.” Linnea pulled up a bench to sit beside his knee, almost close enough to touch.

Regis told her as directly as possible, leaving out nothing important, yet not dwelling on personal emotions. She would sense what lay beneath his words. She listened, gray eyes somber, holding him like an anchor through the storm of reliving the rescue and its aftermath.