Hers to Claim (13 page)

Adonia shrugged. “
If they were my great-great-grandparents, I can only guess they fled to the wastelands and hid…and the Oshtesh took them in.”

“
Interesting. I’m certain they dropped the aristocratic prefix and became simply Brecht and Killion. House DeBrecht and House DeKillion carry genetic elements considered antithetical to each other. Small wonder the High Enclave didn’t sanction their pairing. And on your mother’s side? Tell me what you know about that branch of your family.”

As Adonia struggled to reconstruct her family tree, a picture slowly emerged that stunned Hel with its implications. He stopped and put his hand on her shoulder. “Nia, your father’s line traces to
Prima
Isolde DeCorvus of the First Tetriarch and your mother’s to Queen Constante’s consort, Ari DeTano. How
can
you not know this? The High Enclave geneticists should have been hunting you like a
chital
. This is
not
the kind of genetic wealth that passes without remark.”

“It does
n’t?” She looked at him lost. “I…I…” She threw up her hands in a gesture of hopeless confusion. “It never meant anything to me. I’m surprised I recalled this much. Our family dwelled in the desert with the Mother’s Acolytes. They shunned anything that hinted of ‘corrupt aristocratic taint’. We lived lives centered on service to our Mother Verdantia. My mother and father either hid or never knew our links to aristocracy. I certainly never knew.”

“The
High Enclave elders don’t realize you exist,” he said, still thoughtful. “Your remoteness in the wastelands is the only explanation. What quirk of fate brought you to Sylvan Mintoth?”

“I wanted to expand my knowledge of the healing arts.
I wanted access to the medical library at the High Enclave. The stored knowledge there is such a gift.” Her eyes flicked to his. “To watch a sick person mend because of my care gives me great satisfaction. I always feel a deep sense of connection—almost a bond—with our Mother while treating the sick. Healing has always been easy for me.”

“I suspect with some training you will make a
n immensely powerful
magistra
.”

Adonia
bit her lower lip, her eyes filled with confusion. “Are you and I related?”

Hel jerked upright
with a frown. “What? Related?”

“Your line descends from Isolde DeCorvus and Federago DeHelios…so…?”

He thought about her words for a moment. “I suppose we shared a common ancestor three hundred and seventy-five years ago, but I don’t think that qualifies as being ‘related’—at least not the way you meant it.” A pleasing thought filtered into his brain. Perhaps her motivation for asking indicated a different concern. “Never fear. I’ll be between your thighs as often as opportunity allows.”

“Oh.” A glorious flush crept up her neck
, and she dropped her eyes and ducked her head on a mumble.

“What did you say?” He cupped her chin and raised her
face. Her eyes remained downcast. “What did you say, Nia?”

Her glorious brown eyes flicked to his then away.
She cleared her throat and straightened. “Good to know. I, ah, said it was good to know.”

He released her chin with a soft huff.
“You aren’t the least impressed with that lineage, are you? I think you are every bit as well-born as I am. If I am right, you descend from two illustrious houses.”

She simply shrugged.
“Perhaps. I am still just me—the same person I was an hour ago.” Her eyes dropped, and she scuffed the dirt with her toe. “I grew up thinking aristocrats corrupt and venal. All my life, until I came to Sylvan Mintoth, I was taught the highborn perverted Mother Verdantia’s bounty for their carnal use. I have since learned that is not so, and I accept that the highborn work for the common good of us all—but you must realize it is difficult for me to consider
myself
one. I need time to wrap my mind around what you’ve told me.”

He found her
lack of pretense and shyness with him infinitely attractive. As his eyes roamed her flushed features, he found more than her shyness attractive. She dressed like a beggar. When she had donned all her clothing that morning, her drab, practical garments had hung from her frame like a war-torn pennant on the end of a battered battle-lance, and yet…she pulled at him on a purely sexual level. He imagined her garbed in elegant, feminine clothes as befitted her sex and station in life, and a picture formed in his mind of the closets at Nyth Uchel. They brimmed with rich garments, untouched since the death of his family. A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. He added another reason to his growing urgency to get home.

“Why are we stopping?” Ram asked. He and Steffania drew even with them.

“I think I have solved one of our mysteries.”

Adonia looked as if she wished the ground would open to swallow her.

“Well?” Ram asked impatiently.

A strand of brown hair
escaped her braid and whipped across Adonia’s face. Hel caught it and smoothed it behind her ear. “It is my belief Adonia descends from Queen Isolde DeCorvus on her father’s side and traces back to Ari DeTano’s lineage on her mother’s. Our raven is highborn.”

Steffania smiled. “I’m not even a little surprised.”

Ramsey snorted and started to walk off, jerking the pack pony behind him. “Fabulous, one more person to address as ‘my lady’.”

At his clipped comment, Adonia jerked upright. “No! No! Please don’t. I wouldn’t know
to whom you were speaking. Lord Ramsey, please!”

Hel caught her fluttering hands. “Nia, it’s the appropriate form of address for you. And it won’t hurt that
ill-begotten rogue to exhibit some manners.”

“But…” Adonia began.

Steffania laughed. “He needs practice behaving like a civilized person, Adonia.” She wrapped her arm around Adonia and gave her a hug. “Besides, Ram needs to remember he’s a nobleman, too.”

“Let’s get going,” Hel said. “We have a couple more hours of daylight.”

Hel chose a level, sheltered campsite tucked into the side of the mountain. For the first time since they started their trek, he directed Ramsey to help him make a fire. Steffania turned a portion of the
chital
on a makeshift spit over the flames, and the smell of roasting meat flooded his mouth with saliva. He’d left one of the creatures for A’rken. The meat would pay for the care and board for their horses. Adonia sat withdrawn, huddled into herself. Only her head emerged from her fabulous coat. From the look on her face, her thoughts wandered distant lands. He didn’t blame her. She had much to consider. For that matter, they all did.

“How much longer do we trudge up this mountain?” Ramsey sat against a
rock in the fading light and methodically sharpened a wicked-looking blade. Fat from the
chital
hit the coals with a hiss. Ram’s blade made a repetitive
swick, swick
against a whetstone. He held it up and eyed the edge before slipping it into the sheath strapped to his thigh.

“
Two more days of steady travel. Three if we are slowed,” Hel answered. No one asked him the obvious—slowed by what? From his seat against a boulder, Hel stared dourly into the darkness that lay outside the golden ring cast by the crystals. At least there the Mother had favored them. Those diaman stones from A’rken’s cottage held enough energy to last for the rest of the journey. His sword balanced on his knees. His bow lay at his right hand. What new menace prowled the blackness stalking them? Did he lead them to Nyth Uchel…or to their death?

Eight
days ago, in an exuberant cacophony of sound, every tower bell in Sylvan Mintoth rang out the joyous news of the birth of another royal princess. Now, following her formal christening, crowds waited quietly for their first glimpse of the new babe. The huge, metal embossed doors of the Great Hall swung open and the ruling Tetriarch appeared on the flagstone terrace. Ari DeTano carefully took the nude baby from Fleur and held his daughter aloft for all eyes to see. He had performed the same presentation for his son, Patricio, and, as it had that first time, intense feelings of love and the desperate need to shelter his children and their mother from all threat, ambushed him. His throat clogged with suppressed emotion and he blinked rapidly, holding back unmanly tears.

A murmur of amusement swept the crowd as Her Royal Highness, Principessa Lissabetta Constante, flailed her arms
and legs and exercised a powerful pair of lungs, loudly objecting to the entire procedure. Ari lowered her, snugged her tightly in her blankets and handed the now squalling infant back to Fleur.

“Lissa has inherited your dislike of
fussy ceremony, my love.” Fleur laughed as she took her daughter back.

“Yes, well, I can’t fault her for that,” Ari said.
His eyes lingered on Fleur and Lissa, absorbing the sight of his wife holding their daughter. He’d never wanted marriage or his high position. He had spent years running from the responsibilities and restrictions of the life he now happily embraced—though he’d not had a choice, he could not imagine sharing it with any other woman.
I’ve gotten very lucky with her.

Doral, his lover and second in the
Tetriarch, had expressed a similar sentiment when Fleur had given birth to Lilly, Doral’s daughter and Val, Doral’s son. Ari turned his head and examined the beautiful blond man standing at his side.
I’ve gotten lucky with him, also.
The object of his scrutiny raised an inquiring eyebrow. “Just counting my blessings,” Ari murmured.

The elegant male
who all Verdantia knew only as a matchless assassin smiled gently. “We are both blessed. I thank the Great Goddess daily.” Doral’s mouth tightened. “We must keep them safe,” he said in an undertone.

Ari met Doral’s eyes in common understanding
, then turned and wrapped a protective arm around his queen. She cooed and bounced their daughter into only occasional hiccups of protest. He hated the words he forced out of his mouth. “As soon as Lissa gets settled in with her nurse, we need to return to the topic of our dreams.”

Anxiety clouded
Fleur’s blue eyes. “You and Doral were not the only ones beset with distressing images. Eric said Sophi woke sobbing hysterically in the night some days ago. He didn’t mention it until now because he didn’t want to upset me so soon after birth, but apparently her dreams returned last night.”

The three of them exchanged
uneasy looks as they re-entered the Great Hall and the heavy doors closed behind them.

~~~

Doral threw a sheaf of papers on Ari’s lap and then slouched into a chair next to him and murmured, “These reports are increasing in number. This is the fifth account in the last few days of a town with people torn apart by warped beasts, and we have lost another sigil tower in the western quarter to the encroaching black affliction.” 

Before Ari could respond, a
sharp rap sounded on the antechamber door to their royal apartments. The captain of their royal guard appeared and announced, “The Ducca and Duchessa DeStroia, Your Majesty.” Ari looked at his lover and sighed heavily. “I suppose there is no putting this off.”

“Send them in, Edmond,” Fleur called
over her shoulder.

Ari observed
his wife as she stood before an ornate sideboard laden with food and chose an assortment of delicacies until the translucent china plate she held disappeared under a mound of tasty edibles. He suppressed his amusement at her hearty appetite. For such a tiny thing, she ate like a horse, but he knew better than to comment on it. He would love her if she resembled a barrel, but his adored wife seemed to think otherwise.

A
sandy-haired man with broad shoulders and a military bearing entered with a stunningly beautiful blonde. Doral stood and gave his sister, Sophi, a hug and nodded to her husband, Eric. Ari relaxed further into “his” chair and smiled a welcome at the two joining them.

“I don’t think
our little Lissa is fond of public engagements,” Eric teased as he crossed and bowed to his queen.

“You caught that
, did you?” Fleur laughed and motioned to the bar and sideboard. “Thank you for being present for her christening. Help yourself and Sophi to something to eat and drink and save me from the embarrassment of consuming it all. As for my sweet little daughter, Lissa merely did what I frequently wish to do and one of these days, when my counselors prove too tiresome, I probably will.” Fleur sat delicately in an enormous chair and placed her heavily burdened plate on the low table in front of her. Ari’s scoff of amusement joined that of the others.

“Just point out those who test your temper and I’ll remove them, kitten,” Doral offered
with good humor.

“
How will you remove them? By glaring until they flee in terror?” Fleur shook her head with a laugh. “Not on my account.”

Ari snorted. “I’ve rarely seen a man get such mileage out of a
lethal reputation.”

“It’s because they know it’s true.” Sophi kissed her brother on the cheek
while balancing a plate in one hand and a glass in the other. “My brother is a fierce champion of those he loves, and we would not have him any other way.”

Ari motioned to the others to
sit. “Unfortunately, what we must discuss today won’t be dealt with as easily as irritating counselors.” He bridged his right hand, his thumb on his temple as his fingers rubbed his forehead. He had a premonition about the dream that had plagued him for the past few nights. He’d awakened in a sweat, his heart beating out of his chest—and Doral, Doral had had them too.

“The dreams,” stated Eric into the silent pause.

Ari dropped his hand and propped his forearms on his knees. “Yes…the dreams. Fleur tells me now you and Sophi are experiencing unsettling dreams. Describe them.”

Seated together on an overstuffed sofa,
Eric and Sophi exchanged a long, silent gaze, fraught with meaning, before Sophi composed herself and began. “I had the first dream about four nights ago. I dreamt of golden orbs suspended in a star-filled space pulsing with joyous power. I was one of them.” Sophi’s eyes traveled to Eric, Fleur, Doral and finally, Ari. “Each of you was present, and multiple others whose life force I didn’t recognize. Gossamer strands of brilliant energy connected us and pulsed from our Mother, a vast central sphere.” Sophi spread her hands in a gesture of explanation. “Whenever Mother Verdantia chooses to interact with me these are the forms I see on the metaphysical plane.

“
I became aware that threads of blackness infiltrated Her, formed a dark spider web across Her  brilliance. The blackness ate away at Her as if the darkness was acid dissolving living tissue. Putrefaction crept down the strands of light that tethered us to Her. Talons of barren blackness raped my soul and spread a despair that ate all hope, all joy, all light. The dark corruption clawed each of us toward its ravenous maw.” Sophi shuddered and closed her eyes. “I awoke sobbing, feeling the death of everything bright and beautiful—of our Mother and all life that dwells on Her surface.” Her voice faltered, and Sophi opened aqua eyes awash with tears of heartbreak. Her gaze found Eric. “I know what it is to love beyond measure then suffer the desolation of its loss.”

Eric pulled her to him and rested his chin on the top of her head.
His arms tightened about her fiercely and then released her to hold her gently to him. “You won’t lose me again, sweetling. We’ll find a way to prevent this dark future.”

Ari
spoke to the small group. “Last night, Doral and I shared the dark omen of another dream. We beheld a vast, dark plane, dotted with the scattered remains of a once great city. The sky was void of stars and nothing alive walked the surface. Death and ruination blanketed a forsaken, desolate place of rotting trees and broken buildings.” Ari paused. “I recognized the ruins. It was Sylvan Mintoth. Our Great Mother is in peril—attacked by some malevolent darkness, and She shows us the future if we cannot overcome this evil. But how do we fight this?” Ari rose from his chair and began to pace, his arms crossed over his chest. “I wish She spoke clearly to me. All I have are fragments of instruction and cryptic allusions.” He stopped, planted his hands on his hips and gazed at the ceiling.
Great Mother, must your meaning always be clouded? Can’t you, for once, speak to me plainly?”

He walked to a small writing desk and removed a sheet of paper. “I
wrote down exactly what She said,
When the raven takes flight, all must join with the first
.” Ari tossed the paper back onto the desk in frustration. “Once again, the fate of our world hangs on deciphering some obscure, metaphysical shi—” Ari bit the word off then nodded toward Sophi. “Sorry.”

“We must trust that our Mother will make
Her meaning clear.” Sophi smiled gently. “No matter how obscure.”

“I think we are meant to fight this plague on
the psychic plane,” Doral murmured. “It would seem She tells us to come together in some rite…though I don’t understand the reference to ‘the first’. Perhaps the elders in the High Enclave could be of assistance.”

Ari paused for a moment and scrubbed his face. “The influx of people into Sylvan Mintoth has increased. They bring with them dire news of a black pestilence corrupting the soil, of newly dead rising from their graves and strange, warped creatu
res preying on them and their livestock. The dreams point us to an evil on the aetheric plane, but the effects are all too evident on our living, breathing world.”  

Ari caught Eric and Sophi’s eyes.
“It is early fall. I don’t know how much time we have to discover Her meaning. Eric, Sophi, I ask that you stay in Sylvan Mintoth. I think we are all bound together in this, and we must work together to answer the Mother’s calling.” They nodded. “In the past, She has spoken to us most clearly through the Great Rite, I suggest that we three and the two of you, plan a working of it as soon as Fleur is recovered…say a month from now?”

“Yes,”
Eric agreed.

“Yes,”
Sophi said softly. “As soon as possible.”