Knotted (3 page)

The shopping had gone off without a hitch and the clothing was being delivered the day before the party. Rowen wasn’t comfortable with Akadeel, but they had reached an understanding…she thought.

Rowen finished her work for the day, logged the plants that were clear for returning to their point of origin and headed home. Akadeel had the next day filled with trips to a groomer, but for tonight Rowen could be grubby and drink a glass of wine in front of the vid screen while she went through boxes.

Her apron had pinged just after lunch, and she had checked her small message server. Her new clothing had arrived.

She walked to the manor house and headed up the stairs to her rooms. There was something exciting about opening the clothing that she had only the faintest memory of. Rowen had tried on dozens of outfits, and Akadeel had approved fourteen for this season with matching shoes and underpinnings.

Rowen desperately wanted to frolic in the clothing, but she needed a shower first.

After the speediest shower she could manage, she put on a loose robe and opened the first box. Her hair was swinging in the way, but she flicked it over her shoulders before she opened the pressed cardboard box. Smiling, she lifted the gown out of its transport and she held it up to her chest. For a girl who never went to prom, this many formal gowns were dizzying.

One by one, she waltzed the gowns into her wardrobe until her ensembles were all accounted for and all that was left was a strange crate that was not made of the recyclable cardboard of the others.

A note on the box was rather cryptic.
Open to see your destiny.

With curiosity rampant, she flicked at the latches until she could remove the outer plate. “Oh my.”

She heaved the portrait out and couldn’t stop looking at it. It was both attractive and creepy. Rowen set the portrait at the foot of her bed, climbed onto the sheets and stared at it.

A man with the skin tone of an Irudan was embracing a woman who was obviously Rowen. She reached out and traced the heavy tattoos that marked his back and shoulders, the narrow waist and ended at the upper curve of his buttocks.

The lines were similar to a vine and she knew that pattern. She shifted forward and the light caught the wedding band on her arm. She jerked back. “Holy crap.”

According to the portrait, that muscled body belonged to her husband, or at least one of his relatives.

Asking men to display their backs was probably not going to be an easy thing to do.

She stared at the picture and her pulse sped up. The Rowen in the image had her leg draped over the man’s hips. His face wasn’t visible but hers was, and Rowen was positive that she had never seen that particular expression in a mirror. Her eyes were half closed, lids heavy, and when she analyzed the tension of his buttocks, she blinked rapidly. The couple in the image were having sex. It explained the swollen and parted lips that she was pressing to the side of his shoulder.

Rowen shivered and shifted her shoulders so that the fabric of her robe wasn’t touching her nipples. They had suddenly become tight and ached. She stared at the image until her entire body throbbed. She flipped a sheet over the image and set it against the wall.

She breathed slowly until she was calm and went to the dispenser for the glass of wine she had promised herself. Without dinner, it burned through her veins and gave her the sleep that was preferable to staring at the portrait.

Why want a man who didn’t want her?

She winced as the groomer went after every speck of dirt under her nails. The soaking, oiling and scrubbing had still left traces of her work on her body. The groomer was out to get every last bit.

Akadeel was nearby and watching with a narrow supervisory gaze. Rowen waited while her toenails were painted a delicate pink and her nails tinted a dark rose. Her hair was already up in a slick twist and time was ticking onward.

Her makeup was applied by expert hands after six hours of supervised preening and plucking plus a surprise waxing job that had caused her to switch from Nyal Common into plain old English cuss words.

Under the expert hands, she was tucked and dressed until Akadeel nodded her approval.

“Come with me, daughter. As the hosts, we need to be there when the guests arrive.”

Rowen inhaled against the constriction of her gown. “You didn’t mention that I am expected to host it.”

Akadeel patted her hand. “I know, dearling. I did not want you to run.”

They arrived at the hall via skimmer and Rowen stuck close to Akadeel and did as she said.

A tall man was waiting for them inside, and he smiled. “Worth the wait, darling.”

He walked up to Akadeel and kissed her soundly. She squawked and slapped his shoulder until he righted her.

She quickly checked her lipstick in a nearby mirror and left Rowen with the man.

“Hello, daughter. I felt we should meet before the event began, as my son will not be at your side. I am Drimal Nakkua and you are married to my son, Skorin.” He bent over her hand and kissed it warmly. There was nothing creepy about it, just a love for everything around him.

He had an open heart and it glowed brightly through his olive green eyes.

“Rowen…uh, Nakkua?”

“With more conviction next time. You are Lady Nakkua and you are hosting this event to meet our pocket of society here. For this season, you will be able to confine your social activities to our little pocket of green, but next season, you will be asked to travel far and wide for the family to attend anything that Akadeel does not wish to.”

“So, I am not only Skorin’s whipping boy but Akadeel’s as well? What fun.” She wrinkled her nose.

“You have a sense of humour. I do think we will get along fine.”

Akadeel returned from fussing with her makeup and sighed as she took her husband’s arm. “Don’t do that again. I don’t want to look a fright.”

“You could never do that, love, and you are my countess, you are mine as I am yours. Remember that.” There was a playful hint of steel in his tone and Akadeel deflated a little.

Rowen tried not to smirk at the bully of the afternoon turning into a charming lamb. She was going to have to face the wolves, so having a lamb on her side wasn’t going to help much.

The ballroom was filled with those who wanted to meet the new Lady Nakkua. Rowen smiled, shook hands and chatted with the gardeners in the mix.

She kept her smile fixed and her conversation light. Describing her home became second nature, and trying to quantify her skills was her polite chitchat of the moment. If they asked, she told them, but aside from that, she tried to keep to herself.

After the ball dwindled and Akadeel whispered that she had been a complete success, Rowen headed out onto the wide paved deck and down into the garden of the manor.

She wandered between the hedges and trees, caressing them lightly as she walked. She smiled as she got in touch with the reason she was here. The medical gardens were already scrambling to get her in.

Rowen looked back toward the lights of the ballroom and sighed. Tomorrow, she could play with plants again. Tonight, she had to return to the social setting she had dropped herself into.

* * * *

Skorin used the satellite link to zoom in on the woman in the gardens. Her features showed resignation and he knew that look. He saw it in the mirror all the time.

It wasn’t until she raised her left hand to check her hair and her cuff gleamed that he realised who he was looking at. He had found his wife, and he hadn’t really been looking for her.

He sat back and sighed when she returned to the ballroom. “This is not good.”

His body hummed with awareness. Just seeing her had increased his heart rate and begun a slow rise in his cock. It must have had something to do with possession. She was his in the eyes of the law, and he was a tremendous fan of upholding the law.

He scowled and shut down the satellite feeds. He had seen her walk the garden, and even through the telescopes, he could see that they had flourished at her touch. It made him wonder what else would spring to life when she touched it.

Growling, he got to his feet. “Devnin!”

“Yes, Skorin?”

“Do we have a mission?”

“No. We have the night off. Uadon is communing with the rock and Pleska is staring into the sky and watching night butterflies.”

Skorin scowled.

Devnin said carefully, “Why don’t you put in an appearance at the ball?”

Skorin let his shadow free and lifted him up toward the ceiling. “Repeat that?”

Uadon came in. “We have a mission.”

Skorin dropped his second in command. They sprang into action and got into their suits. Once they were geared up and Devnin was behind the controls, Uadon handed out their missions.

In a brilliant example of bad taste, armed men in body armour had stolen a member of the nobility from a local benefit.

Skorin had a sick feeling. “Who was the noble?”

They checked the file and all went quiet until Devnin said, “Lady Nakkua.”

Skorin shook his head and crossed his fingers. “Please let it be my mother or aunt Cressina.”

They put their faceplates into position and headed for the ballroom. If they needed to track, it had to be from the point of origin.

Count and Countess Nakkua were waiting for them in the ballroom. A few of the guests had been beaten and they were clumping together in little frightened groups.

Walking Darkness approached his family. “Count and Countess Nakkua, are you all right?”

His mother nodded but looked furious. “They took my daughter-in-law. I require you to return her to me.”

His father was busy stroking his wife’s shoulder. “If you don’t, Akadeel will go in search of her. The girl is special and new to Irudan. To be hauled off for the podders to try and get an accelerated crop isn’t fair to her. We would ask that the Guardians retrieve her before they can damage her in any way.

Walking Darkness nodded his head. “We will find her. Rock Wall will hold you all in until we return.”

Uadon barricaded up all doors and windows while they went looking for a witness.

Pleska called nocturnal insects and spoke with one, asking for tracking assistance. In exchange for a grape, the scorpion agreed to lead them to the hatch that the podders had taken.

Devnin chuckled. “I don’t know how I feel about your bribing informants.”

Pleska snorted, and they followed the direction of the insect’s tracking until they were in the garden and the upturned soil gave them a clear direction into the ground.

* * * *

Rowen was tired of being shoved. “I don’t understand what you want.”

One of the grubby young men pushed her further down the tunnels. “We have a sick plant and we need you to heal it.”

“Why didn’t you apply to the greenhouse?” She had an idea of what was going on, but she was going to play stupid as long as she could. If she could slow the process, someone might come to help.

“The greenhouse isn’t a suitable environment for this baby. We love her and we don’t want to let her out of our sight.”

That told her that there was a distinct emotional element around the plant she was heading toward. Emotional attachments to plants were dangerous when you needed something from them, and these young men were dangerous.

She wrinkled her nose. The young men also hadn’t bathed recently and the tunnel they marched her through was soft mud instead of polished stone.

She had shucked her first high-heeled shoe when they entered the tunnel and the second one twenty minutes later.

Her feet were only too happy to be on soft soil instead of in the torturous shoes. The scent of tree and vine was getting thicker in the air as she stumbled along.

The narrow tunnel opened suddenly and she gasped at what she saw. Two dozen young folk were lying on the ground, licking at some bright yellow pods.

The tree that produced that pod was the centre of the cavern.

It had low, gnarled roots that protruded above the ground, an ashy grey trunk and glossy leaves that were losing their gloss. The pods that were carefully collected were splotchy but that colouration was unnatural. She could tell that this was a tree in distress.

They shoved her forward and she tripped on the edge of her gown, landing hard on her arm.

She hissed and rolled over, examining the gash in her skin.

“Get up and fix it.”

Rowen looked at the two young men with their large pupils and fists clenched. She slowly got to her feet and stumbled to the tree. She leaned against it and closed her eyes. “How long has it been sick?”

They shook their heads. “We don’t know. The buzz lasts less and less now.”

Rowen winced and turned to touch the tree. She heard the sound of a weapon warming up.

“If you hurt the tree, we will kill you.”

Rowen winced and pressed her palms to the bark, blood streaming down her arm to puddle at the roots. Her pain must have gotten through, because the tree began to sway. The pods tightened and regained their yellow colour. The leaves began to shine, and to Rowen’s shock, vines crept around her to lift her upward into the spreading fingers of the branches.

She heard cries of distress and new voices that were not stunned and strung out. She tried to look through the branches, but she was cocooned safely in vines, leaves and wood. This plant wanted to protect her. It was nice that she had someone to stand between her and danger, as it took some of the loneliness away.

There was a fight in the room before all fell silent.

“Lady Nakkua?”

She shifted, a little lightheaded. “In the tree. It pulled me up here and I can’t get down.”

To her surprise, tendrils of darkness came up into the tree and carefully eased her protection away before lifting her and bringing her softly down into the arms of a man in body armour. “Hello.”

“You are wounded?”

She chuckled and leaned against him. “Yes. I fell and my kind has too many blood-carrying systems on the surface and thin skin. It is a sucky survival mechanism.”