Prince of Swords (22 page)

The guards Lyr had been waiting for finally arrived, and he said a quick good-bye. He'd told Rayne to run if he didn't return in four days, which meant he had a day and a half to get to her before she fled the camp. The countryside still wasn't safe for a woman alone. Too many of Ciro's Own survived.

Not for long.

 

R
AYNE DID NOT PLAN TO RUN ANYWHERE, EVEN THOUGH
Lyr had told her to do so. Thanks to Keelia, she knew he'd been successful and there was no reason to hide from Ciro or those who would kill her to keep her from bearing his son. And still, as morning and the deadline approached, she could not sleep. If Lyr could be here, he would.

And yet she could not help but remember that while Ciro was dead, his Own lived on, though their number was less every day, and they were no longer fighting in an organized effort but in small and ineffective pockets of resistance. Would Lyr be so intent on reaching her that he'd allow his vigilance to slip and fall into a trap?

No, his gift would aide him, if necessary.

She dressed in the clothes Gwyneth had given her, since her traveling dress had gone to Arthes with Lyr and Ariana and the others. Devlyn Arndell had told her a woman with similarly short hair often adorned her locks with flowers, but on this chilly morning there were no flowers to be had. She knew Lyr would be here soon, and she wanted to be beautiful to his eyes when he arrived.

And then?

She had no idea what would happen then. Keelia had suggested that she did not need to know, but must take every day as it came, good and bad, happy and sad. As long as Lyr was in it, she could endure anything.

Devlyn Arndell was posted at the entrance to her tent, as attentive as a man of his character could be. He and his brother took turns sleeping for a few hours during the night, and it was apparently Trystan's turn to rest. Since they had been ordered not to leave her sight, the more sober of the two Arndells slept on a bedroll a few feet away.

“You're up very early, m'lady.” Devlyn kept his voice low, so as not to disturb his brother.

“I can't sleep,” she said just as softly. “I'm expecting someone to arrive shortly.”

“The Tryfynian fellow, I assume.”

It wasn't unexpected that there had been talk about her and Lyr, since they'd arrived together and she had not gone to the trouble to hide her feelings. He'd even stopped time for a kiss, but of course no one but the two of them realized that.

“Yes, the Tryfynian fellow. Prince of Swords, to be precise.”

Devlyn sighed. “So I have heard. Even so, I would fight him for you, if you'd like.” The offer was playfully tendered, so Rayne did not take him seriously.

“No, thank you.”

“Is this prince fellow worthy of a pretty and talented gardener such as yourself?” Devlyn asked.

“Most definitely,” Rayne responded. She searched the immediate area for a plant which might flower if she commanded that it do so, but here in the center of the camp, all plants had been trampled or pulled from the ground to make way for soldiers. There would be no flower for her short hair, no adornment for Lyr's sake.

Now that the war was done, or almost done, perhaps there would be time for gardens, for vegetables and flowers and adornment. Perhaps she and Lyr might pass more than one night in a bed. Perhaps she would have a warm bath, and new clothes, and shoes which were not falling apart from constant abuse. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

She heard Lyr coming almost precisely four days to the hour after he left. No, she didn't
hear
him exactly, she felt him moving nearer. She felt him in the wind, in the rumble of the earth beneath her feet, in the pit of her soul. Rayne stood with her feet firmly planted on the ground and her face lifted to the wind, and she felt him.

Moments later he was there, dismounting before his horse came to a full stop, not stopping to talk to any of the soldiers who hailed him for news or congratulations. He came directly toward Rayne, ignoring all others.

Lyr walked toward her quickly and strongly, and she could tell that he was uninjured. Ciro had not touched him. None of the Own had harmed him. He'd done what he was meant to do and he'd survived to return to her.

Devlyn placed himself between her and Lyr, adopting a protective pose. “If you wish to see the pretty gardener, you must come through me…”

Rayne blinked, and Lyr was directly before her. A bypassed Devlyn spun about. “Hey! How did you do that? When I said you had to come
through
me, I didn't mean literally.”

“You've had your fun, Devlyn,” Rayne said as she put her arms around Lyr's waist and held on tight.

“Not really, but I suppose I know when it's time to quit. Sure you don't want me to—”

“Positive,” Rayne said before he could finish his question.

The commotion woke Trystan, who came off his bedroll with a grumble and a reach for his sword, before he realized who held his charge.

“Who are these annoying men?” Lyr asked.

“My bodyguards.”

“They're dismissed.”

“Only General Merin or Queen Keelia can dismiss us,” Trystan responded.

Lyr turned and locked eyes with the soldier. “You've been relieved of your duties.”

Trystan was ready to argue, but in this case it was his brother who displayed the most common sense. “Come on, let's take a walk. I think our little gardener will be well protected in her present company.”

“We were ordered…”

“We won't go far.” Devlyn clapped a friendly arm across his twin's shoulder and they walked away from the tent.

Lyr removed the necklace she had given him for luck and placed it over her head so that the blue gem dropped against her chest. “Thank you,” he said softly. “I believe this gem blinded Ciro for a moment. It was a moment I very much needed.”

“I'm glad I could help,” she whispered.

Lyr took her face in his hands and kissed her, much as he had before he'd left. One hand slipped to the back of her head and he held her there while he kissed her. He took her breath away with his mouth on hers. There was heart in the kiss, heart and soul and surrender.

And he said he had no heart to give.

When the kiss ended, he rested his forehead against hers. “The bastard will never touch you,” Lyr whispered. “You're safe now.”

Rayne sighed in relief. Thanks to Keelia, she'd known that Ciro was dead, but hearing the truth from Lyr's lips warmed her to the pit of her soul. “It's over.”

Lyr's hand tightened at the back of her neck as he answered in a less than reassuring voice, “Almost.”

L
YR LED
R
AYNE INTO HER TENT.
I
T WAS BEST THAT NO ONE
else know what he possessed. He could trust Rayne with the secret, but until Keelia told him how to proceed, no one else could know.

Once they were inside the tent, he shrugged off the small leather rucksack he'd been carrying for so many miles and opened it. There was only one object inside, and he handled it with care. Rayne gasped when she saw it.

“Is that—”

“Yes,” he answered before she could finish her question. “It's the crystal dagger.”

The dagger was now as black as it had once been bright. The demon which had been sucked from Ciro's body was trapped inside the crystal. The dagger was not only black but heavier than it had been, and it made him uncomfortable to touch it, whereas before he felt as if the dagger fed his own magical energy. The weapon no longer spoke to him, now that its mission had been accomplished.

He could not wait to be rid of the blasted thing, but he was sure there had to be a specific way to dispose of the dagger so that the Isen Demon never escaped. He suspected simply tossing it into a deep river wouldn't be enough. Sian and Ariana hadn't had any clue how that could be accomplished.

“I'm hoping Keelia can tell me how to dispose of it,” he explained as he returned the dagger to the rucksack. “As soon as it's light, I'll wake her.”

“She's not here,” Rayne said anxiously.

Not here? Impossible. “She was supposed to stay in camp!”

“She did, until she knew that you had won. She said it felt as if a weight had been lifted from the world, and then she got an odd and sudden urge to go see her mother.” Rayne's nose wrinkled. “Lyr, she flew. She sprouted wings and took to the air like a gigantic bird.”

“I'd heard that she's found new talents of late,” Lyr said, disappointed to know that he could not immediately be rid of the dagger that was, until it was disposed of, his responsibility.

“And quite a talent it is. I did not know such a thing was possible. She does plan to return soon,” Rayne explained. “She told the Arndell brothers to keep watch over me until she gets back.”

“The Arndell brothers. Those two men who tried to keep me from you, I suppose.”

“They're simply doing as they were told,” she said, and then she smiled. It was a nice smile, one he had missed in his days away from her.

“What about you?” He reached out and touched her short hair. Cutting those long locks had been necessary, but he'd hated to ask her to make the sacrifice. “Have you discovered any new talents of your own? Have you tried?”

Rayne shook her head. “I thought about trying to produce a flower for my hair, but there wasn't a suitable plant in the vicinity. I didn't even think of exploring my abilities while you were away. I just thought of you and where you might be and what you might be facing.”

Looking at her now, Lyr decided the shorter style suited her face. Her neck looked longer, her cheeks softer, her eyes larger. Even if her hair were as short as his, she'd still be the most beautiful woman in the world.

“While I am disappointed to know that Keelia is not in camp, I believe there are agreeable enough ways for us to pass the time until she returns.”

Lyr placed the rucksack with the crystal dagger in it aside. When that was done, Rayne moved easily into his lap, and he kissed her again. Since leaving here to complete his mission, he had missed her so much. He had worried about her, he had craved her touch more than he dared to admit.

But now she was here, and there was no more need to worry. Ciro was dead, the demon was trapped, and Rayne was safe.

Ariana had boldly put forth the possibility that he might wonder if his sexual liaisons with Rayne would be as powerful if they did not face each day as if it were their last. In moments, he proved that concern to be invalid.

 

K
EELIA RETURNED TO CAMP ON THE AFTERNOON OF
Lyr's return, and she did not arrive alone. A woman traveled on Keelia's back, facedown as she hung on for dear life. Rayne and Lyr were at the center of the camp, the watchful Arndell brothers close behind, when the two women arrived. Lyr had been talking with General Merin about plans to track down and defeat what was left of Ciro's Own, and Trystan Arndell had gladly joined that discussion. They were all close enough to hear the mighty swish of Keelia's wings, as well as the curses of the woman on the Queen's back.

The dark-haired woman leapt off Keelia's winged back as soon as she was able. She raked her hands through long, dark hair which was touched with a few strands of gray, and muttered a few curse words that made Rayne, for all her lessons, blush.

Keelia stood tall and shook her wings, which at her silent command retracted and then disappeared. Rayne watched as the Queen's eyes became more human than birdlike once again, as the feathers in her hair either fell or retracted as the wings on her back had. Her gaze fell immediately on Rayne, then on the Arndell brothers, then on Joryn, who rushed forward to greet her.

When the greeting was done, Keelia led the woman she'd carried on her back toward Rayne. Was this the Queen's mother, the woman she had left camp to seek? There was no familial resemblance, if that was the case. The wind-blown woman smiled warmly at Lyr, and he returned her smile.

“It's good to see you well,” she said. “Keelia told me it was so, but such words are not enough for a mother when her son is at war.”

Mother! Rayne straightened her back. This woman was Lyr's
mother
.

“It's good to see you, too,” Lyr said casually.

Rayne expected that Lyr's mother and Keelia would stop when they reached Lyr. Surely that's why they had returned on this day, when Lyr had himself just returned. There was so much to be said, so many details to be taken care of. Lyr had the matter of the crystal dagger to discuss with his cousin, and since Keelia was a psychic, it was more than possible that she knew about that important matter.

Rayne could not help but wonder what Lyr would say to his mother about her. Would he bother to say anything at all? Rayne held her breath, but Keelia and her companion walked right past her and Lyr, their eyes on Rayne's bodyguards.

“Aunt Isadora, these are the Arndell brothers, Devlyn”—Keelia indicated that twin with a wave of her hand—“and Trystan.”

A wave of emotion crossed the older woman's face. “Stars above.” She reached out to touch Trystan's face. “You look so much like your father.”

With those words, she had the full attention of the sentinels.

“You knew our father?” Devlyn asked.

Keelia explained, as the woman she had carried to the camp seemed to be struck speechless. “Aunt Isadora knew your father and your mother well, and I have brought her here to tell you an incredible story.”

Isadora recovered her composure and said, “We have more to do here than to rehash old times. Which of you possesses the ring?”

Neither of them wore a ring, Rayne knew, but that didn't mean they didn't possess one.

After a few moments passed, Trystan drew a chain from beneath his shirt. Dangling from that chain was a fat ring set with a blue stone.

Isadora smiled faintly. “Your mother told me that the eldest had the keeping of the ring.” She curtseyed to Trystan. Curtseyed!

Trystan removed the chain from around his neck and passed it to his brother. “Devlyn is the eldest. I've been holding on to this family heirloom so he wouldn't gamble it away.”

Devlyn held on to the chain, but did not place it around his neck. The ring dangled and swung, catching the afternoon light. “This is damned odd,” he said without his usual easy smile. “Woman, do you care to explain yourself?”

Isadora curtseyed again, her attention on Devlyn this time. “Your brother has your father's looks, but lamentably, you have his manner.” She looked up. “And his eyes.”

“Our father has been dead many years.”

“Yes, he has,” Isadora said. “He was a horrible man. I hated him in a way I have never hated anyone else. He was truly despicable.”

Trystan was shocked by her words, but Devlyn showed no emotion. “He was just a fisherman,” the eldest said.

“No.” Lyr's mother shook her head fiercely. “Your father was no fisherman. He was…This is difficult enough without interruption. If you will be so kind as to allow me to finish, it will be done soon enough.”

Devlyn waved one hand. “Why not?”

“I despised your father,” Isadora continued, “but your mother loved him very much. I saw only the bad in him, but Liane saw more and in the end she was right. He died saving her and the two of you.”

“Liane?” Devlyn said. “You've made a mistake. Our mother's name is Bethlyn.”

“Our father drowned when his boat went down in a storm,” Trystan explained.

Isadora sighed. “No! Dammit, this is too complicated. Full explanations and the questions you will no doubt have must wait for another time.” She turned her stern attention to the eldest. “Your name is not Devlyn. I was present when you were born. I saw you into this world, child.” Isadora took a deep breath, as if instilling herself with strength to continue. “You were tiny and wrinkled and you fought for your life. The name you were given at birth was Jahn, and you are the rightful emperor of Columbyana.”

 

L
EVEL
T
HIRTEEN.
K
EELIA SAID THAT WAS THE SAFEST
place in which to dispose of the crystal dagger. Lyr had no idea what or where his cousin was talking about but his mother had reacted fiercely to those two words. Level Thirteen.

Keelia admitted that some of the elder cousins had long ago overheard mention of the terrible place which so frightened the Fyne sisters, but Isadora had protected her children from the knowledge that the pit existed.

It had been a long and momentous day. His mother and her sisters had found what they'd sought, but at a price. Liane was dead. In the midst of everything else that was happening, she'd had to tell the twins about how their mother had died.

General Merin was quite distressed at the news that Devlyn Arndell was heir to the throne, and he'd asked more than once if it wasn't possible that the man he knew as Trystan Arndell was the eldest. Trystan, Merin was certain, would make a better emperor than his less responsible brother.

Lyr cared little for who ruled Columbyana. As soon as his duty was done, as soon as the crystal dagger was safe and the last of Ciro's Own had been defeated, he could return home to Tryfyn.

With Rayne? A part of him screamed
yes
, but in truth he was less than certain. Nothing about their relationship could be called normal. With the danger behind them, would she even care to stay with him? She'd said that she loved him, but perhaps she would think herself in love with any man who'd saved her from a demon's attentions. She was an Earth Goddess, after all, and surely she wanted more from life than warming his bed and giving him children.

Since the army had broken down their camp and taken to the road, with Arthes as their destination, Lyr had managed to avoid Rayne. He'd had long conversations with his mother, and he'd discussed battle plans with Merin. He and Keelia had discussed how best to dispose of the crystal dagger, once they reached Level Thirteen. When that was done, he'd gone to the head of the party and joined those who scouted ahead for trouble.

He did look back at Rayne on occasion. She rode with the Arndell brothers—the Beckyt brothers, more rightly—surrounded on all sides by sentinels whose only duty was to protect them from harm. The eldest, the one who was to be emperor, seemed almost amused by the turn of events. The other one did not seem at all amused. In any case, Rayne was safe. She was safer than she'd been in many years.

Riding far ahead of the others, his eyes peeled for trouble, Lyr was almost glad when two crazed swordsmen of Ciro's Own appeared. At the moment he welcomed the quick and easy fight.

 

I
T WAS DARK BUT THE MOON WAS FULL AND THE PATH
was wide and clear, so they rode onward. Rayne frowned as hours passed and Lyr did not join her even for a moment. He seemed to be well occupied, but surely he could spare her a word, or a smile.

Devlyn—Emperor Jahn—rode beside her. He'd been quiet and unusually thoughtful for most of the day, but now and then he spoke to her. They had become friends in days past. She hadn't had many friends in her life. She'd always been around servants who were kind to her, but until Lyr had come to rescue her, she hadn't known a single true friend.

In truth, Lyr had not come to rescue her at all. He'd come for the crystal dagger, and she'd been there.

Of the few friends she'd made since then, Til and Swaine had lost their lives in an act of unspeakable betrayal, and Segyn had turned out not to be any man's friend. That left Lyr, who was apparently avoiding her, and Devlyn, who was not actually Devlyn at all.