Nightshade (47 page)

He hated the Green Hills. He hated everything about them, especially the dampness. And the insects were everywhere, inescapable. They were large and they bit, and the back of his neck was covered with small welts he had scratched in his sleep. The girl had placed a cool, soothing lotion on them, and he had repaid her well. Not every lowly serving wench could lay claim to having a Prince’s spirit within her womb. Joaquin chuckled and tossed his braid back with a turn of his head.
Perhaps my seed will find root in these rotting hills and grow.

“My Lord, you called for me?”

Joaquin turned in the sunlight at Serabee’s voice and gazed back into the shadows of his room. “Yes,” he said, and his thoughts cleared. “And you took your time about it.”

Serabee bowed his head. “My apologies, my Prince.”

Joaquin tossed the karrem from his cup and left the balcony. “What say you then, Serabee? Can you carry out my orders?” He walked to the chair beside the hearth and turned about with a swish of his robe before he sat down. “It is time I made my play.”

“Yes, my Lord, your plan should work.”

“Should?”

“Nothing is ever certain, young Lord, unless the gods allow it.”

“And so does the Fakir bless my glorious ascension to the Jade Throne?” Joaquin knew that his tone was far from respectful. Serabee stared at him with cold, calm eyes and fear fluttered deep in the pit of his stomach. He looked away and spied his clothes for the day on the end of his bed. “I meant no offense.”

“Of course not.” Serabee spoke quietly. “My man will arrive at Blackstone Keep sometime near dawn on the morrow. He will wait for his moment, then carry out your orders.”

“Do you wish the old crone dead as well?” Joaquin thought that he might gift Serabee with something he would appreciate. “No one will miss her.”

“That is not necessary,” Serabee said with a careful smile. He was dressed in his usual black with his brace of throwing knives about his waist. He had a vest on as well. The man wore at least three layers of clothes. “Thank you for the thought, my Prince.”

“I would think you would want her dead,” Joaquin said, then waved his hand at him. “
Fickloche aladda
, man, aren’t you sweating in all of that?”

“The Lady Radha is not so easy to kill,” Serabee said. “And no, I am not sweating, my Prince. You are perhaps used to a dryer heat.”

Joaquin frowned. “This fucking forest, I don’t know why anyone bothers to take a bath when all you have to do is walk outside.” He looked into his empty karrem cup and considered Serabee’s words. They were not what he expected. “What do you mean she is not so easy to kill?”

“You must trust me on that point,” Serabee said. “As I am a Lord of the Fakir, so is she a High Priestess of the Vhaelin. It is good to respect your enemies at times, my Lord. This my people have learned at a great cost, where the Vhaelin are concerned. Though if she gets in the way, I suppose my man can deal with her.”

“You suppose?”

“Yes, he should be fine.”

“I don’t want him to be
fine
, Serabee,” Joaquin said with heat, and pushed up from his chair. “I want him to murder my cunt of a sister.” He stepped close to the Fakir Lord and hit his fist against Serabee’s lean, hard chest. It was a firm blow for emphasis and he held his hand there. “And I do not want some slack-mouthed fool of yours making an attempt and failing.”

“No, my Lord.” Serabee took Joaquin’s hand with a gentle touch.

Joaquin blinked and felt the sun from the balcony on the side of his face, then a cool, dry breeze that drifted up from the floor. It washed beneath the hem of his robe and felt wonderful, easing the tackiness of his flesh in the humidity. He heard the horses in the courtyard below and someone laughing, and he remembered the tightness of the kitchen girl’s body and how she had called out his name as he had rammed his cock inside her. She had been a pleasant distraction and so he had not punished her for her lapse in manners when she forgot his title. She had been tight and wet, and she had smelled like kitchen flour. “And grapes,” he whispered.

He felt dizzy for a moment and then looked to his left to find Serabee as they stood beneath the arch to the balcony. Serabee had put his arm about Joaquin’s shoulders in a friendly gesture and Joaquin felt a surge of pride. Serabee had never touched his father so. “But if you think that I should go with him, to ensure that the Lady Radha does not interfere, it might be wise.”

Joaquin followed the logic as he turned away from the balcony and walked slowly to the end of the bed. “Then do it,” he said, picking up his shirt and giving it a shake. “And then Lyoness shall ride to war over the murder of their beloved Nightshade Lark, and my brothers will tear each other to pieces in the process.” Joaquin turned as he draped his clothes over his arm. “And here I shall be, protected in the arms of Arravan.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Serabee said. “It is the most important play of all, and well thought out. They shall not expect it.”

“They all have their own plans.” Joaquin felt tired. He had not felt tired with his karrem, and he wondered if the kitchen girl had worn him out more than he thought. It was the bloody humidity. “All of them, even Jessa, I should imagine.”

“Yes.”

“Malcolm would see his whelp of a son sit on my father’s throne, while offering me the privilege of being the little pig’s counselor. He would put me there to do all the work, and then he would ride in and take what is mine after I have cleaned out the rats for him. Does he think that I cannot see what he’s doing?”

“This way is much better, yes.” Serabee’s voice was oddly soothing. “And after this, your position will be secure, for Malcolm will have no other of Bharjah’s blood to help him complete his plan for Lyoness. He will think to use you as his puppet king, but he does not know you, my Prince. He does not understand how cunning you are.”

“Yes.” Joaquin said and sighed as his anger ebbed away. “Yes…yes, see to things, will you, Serabee?”

“Yes, my Prince, I will see to things.”

Jessa sang softly in the early afternoon sun as Darry lay on the ground with her head in Jessa’s lap. She braided together several strands of Darry’s hair, happy at last to have the opportunity. Draped along Darry’s thigh and purring a strange sort of accompaniment to the ballad, Hinsa lay at her leisure, her eyes lazy and staring down one of the twisting paths of the garden maze. Darry absently scratched the giant cat’s head, and its long tail flicked against Jessa’s legs.

Darry opened her eyes, listening to the Lyonese words she could not understand. Jessa stopped as her lips hovered above Darry’s, then continued her song. Darry grinned at the tease as Jessa let her fingers float through Darry’s hair. Jessa’s humor moved within her voice as she sat back and wove the seed of periwinkle within the tightly wound braid.

Darry took hold of a thick curl and pulled gently, and Jessa let her words trail off as their lips met in a pliant kiss. When released from the gentle demand Jessa sang the remaining chorus, which spoke of two lovers on their wedding day. The panther tipped her head back and let out a low rumble, drawing Jessa’s attention.

Hinsa huffed through her nose and yawned, baring her deadly teeth as her long whiskers shivered. Jessa laughed and stretched her arm out, feeling the wet nose against her palm and then Hinsa’s rough tongue as the cat sprawled back onto Darry’s stomach. Darry grunted at the sudden shift in weight.

“She is too heavy?”

“If I had my choice?” Darry responded, “I would rather it be you lying atop me.”

Jessa dropped her hand onto Darry’s stomach. “You’ll hurt her feelings.”

Hinsa flopped her head back, seeking her touch once again. Jessa obliged and ran a careful hand down the animal’s face, feeling the black skin of her jowls quiver.

“They did not lie,” Darry said.

“Who did not lie?”

“The one who claimed your voice might drive men mad and so named you the Nightshade Lark.”

“Have I driven you mad?”

“Sort of.” Darry grinned.

Jessa kissed her once more. “That is the first time I can remember that I have ever sung for the simple joy of it.” And then she kissed her yet again and stroked her tongue against Darry’s before she tasted her lower lip. “Thank you,
Akasha
.”

“Tell me what it means.”

“Smile as you just did.”

Darry’s dimple appeared once more. “Please?”

Jessa sighed happily and ran her fingers along the cheek. “I am thinking that I like this smile of yours very much. It is different from your others, and though all are very beautiful, this one most makes me want to kiss you.”

“I am at your leisure then, Princess.”

Jessa sat back and began to sing once more as she searched through Darry’s curls for more suitable hair.

“No?”

Jessa ignored her plea.

“You would leave me unsatisfied?”

Jessa stopped singing. “Are you not satisfied?”

“I have duty this eve. I’ll not be able to meet you.”

“You cannot…what do you mean you cannot meet me?”

“The senior officers walk the wall with Longshanks,” Darry said. “And though I’ve been taken from the lists, I must attend. I’m sorry, my love. I cannot get free of it without causing suspicion.”

Jessa did not like what she heard, not at all. “I’ll not be able to touch you until when?”

Darry ran the backs of her fingers down the skin of Jessa’s neck. “Until I say,” she answered, then laughed at the dissatisfaction that greeted her. Hinsa gave a growl low within her throat and shifted her weight. She pushed to her feet and padded through the grass. “Are you angry with me?”

“Perhaps.”

“I should make it up to you then.”

“And ruin my dress? I think not.”

“It would not be the first lady’s dress I’ve ruined.”

Jessa laughed, remembering her words at the pond. She slid her right hand down the front of Darry’s shirt until her hand stopped upon Darry’s belt, which she fingered in contemplation. “Perhaps it is time for your uniform to be ruined, yes? I rather like this dress.”

Darry crossed her legs together at the ankles and sighed, trying to look casual as Jessa’s fingers pulled at the leather and loosed the flap. “Leave off, woman. I’m not interested now.”

Hinsa sat in the grass several feet away and extended her neck, letting loose a rather plaintive yowl.

Jessa laughed, glancing at the panther and then back to Darry in understanding. “I think you are lying, yes?”

“Don’t listen to her. She’s just a cat.”

Jessa pulled the belt open and settled her touch at the top of Darry’s trousers. She yanked them open and slid her hand beneath the material. “Is she?”

“Yes.”

“You’re being led astray, Lady Jessa.”

Jessa enjoyed the flush of color that darkened the skin of Darry’s neck as she slipped her hand farther. Hinsa’s purr rattled in the air around them and Jessa laughed again at the sound. “I’m finding this revealing in more ways than one.”

Darry lifted her head from Jessa’s lap and gazed down the length of her body. “Bloody hell, biscuit,
stop
it.”

Jessa took the opportunity to kiss her, stealing just a taste. “Will she stay while I touch you?” She was terribly aroused at just the thought and slid her hand even lower, slipping between the tightness of Darry’s legs as Darry squeezed her thighs together. “Do not be stubborn, Darrius.”

For a moment Darry’s eyes were clouded and Jessa sensed her majik.

Hinsa pushed to her feet and walked close. She crowded against them both and rubbed her face along Darry’s. The sound of her purr was jarring, and the back of Jessa’s skull vibrated as Hinsa opened her mouth in Darry’s hair.

“
Ouch
!” Darry exclaimed. Several strands caught in Hinsa’s teeth as the cat bit and pulled away, causing Darry’s head to jerk to the side.

Jessa grabbed Darry’s waist as Hinsa ran off down the path. “Did she hurt you?” she teased, but let out a startled cry as she was seized about the waist and pulled into an awkward tumble of tangled limbs before Darry settled along her body in the grass.

Jessa turned her face as Darry’s hair glided across her skin and teased her lips. She ran her fingers through it. Darry kissed Jessa’s throat, her breath warm and her mouth tender, her lips pulling sweetly on the skin. Her tongue tasted briefly and her teeth grazed.

Jessa let out a breath of surprise, smelling the heady scent of the Lowlands for an instant. She had not heard the words in her vision and her heart was fierce with anticipation as Darry’s lips brushed against her ear.

“Everything I am is yours. I love you, Jess.”

“I love you,” Jessa said, finding and claiming her waiting lips.

*

“Why didn’t you send for me sooner?” Owen asked quietly, staring into the cold hearth from his favorite chair. He sat with his legs extended and his shoulders slouched in the familiar leather cushions.

“I thought I might change her mind,” Cecelia answered from the balcony arch. “And I was afraid.”