Shades of the Wind (14 page)

“No,” she said. “I believe it to be a blessing to those who have left us. It would be a

terrible journey to make alone.”

He relaxed beside her. “You are a wondrous find, Katie,” he told her.

“What powers do you have?” When he didn’t answer she tilted her head up.

“I can shape-shift,” he said softly, and watched her blink.

“Shape-shift?” she repeated.

“Into a beast.”

Her eyes widened. “Was that you I saw that first night?” she asked, excitement

running through her voice. “The beast that was howling?”

“He is a part of me,” he answered. “It is usually after a soul has not passed on to its

reward, when it has been devoured, that the beast within me comes alive. My

responsibilities seem almost more than I can bear at such times and I need to run, to be

free.”

“Jacob said you were searching for a mate.”

“And I have found her,” he stated, and lifted her hand to his lips. “I will cherish her

all our days together and into the Beyond.”

“You seemed so lonely that night.”

“I was lonely.”

“And so forlorn.”

“That too.”

She was silent for a long time, taking in and trying to accept that the man beside her

was something more than a mere human. The ancient tales she had heard from

childhood of gods and goddesses made it easy for her to accept the strangeness of this

budding relationship. She had sensed something powerful, otherworldly in the portrait

of the prince so it seemed natural to acknowledge what he was. It frightened her a little

but it was exciting as well.

“Something is bothering you,” he said. He could read her mind as easily as a book

but he preferred to allow her to tell him her concerns in her own way, in her own time.

“What do you do when you change, milord?” she asked, her eyes troubled.

“Ah, I understand. Katie, I haven’t devoured anything in centuries,” he said, “and

rarely do I drain my victims dry unless they annoy me.”

She felt the smile in his voice and looked up to see him staring down at her,

wagging his eyebrows. “Be serious,” she said.

“I am serious,” he said, the smile slipping from his full lips. “I do take from a

person now and again when the hunger is upon me—as it has been quite often of late—

but I never harm any of them and they will not remember the sting of my fangs unless I

want them to.”

“Fangs?” she repeated, reaching up to touch her neck.

70

Shades of the Wind

“Never mind,” he said, taking her hand in his. “We will not discuss such things

now.”

She could not let it rest. “You take blood from humans?”

He sighed. “Yes, Kate. On occasion I do.”

Her heart had started to pound fiercely. “D-do you ever kill those you bite?”

“If they need killing,” he admitted. “There is evil in this world just as there is evil in

yours.” He lifted her hand to his lips. “But you have nothing to fear from me, my love.”

Catherine plucked gently at his chest hair. She was not afraid of him though she

knew she had every reason to be and should. “Do you use your power to punish those

who anger you?” she asked hesitantly.

“You mean Nyria,” he said.

She smoothed her palm over his chest, reveling in the prickly feel of the curly hairs

against her flesh. She was glad he did not shave away his body hair as she’d heard

many Kensetti men did. “She nearly choked to death the other day and—”

“She was in no danger of choking, milady,” he said. “She needed to be reminded of

certain things. With a woman as headstrong as Nyria, pain is most often the only

chastisement she understands.”

“You hurt her.”

“I punished her and no, I did not hurt her. However, I frightened her.”

“She doesn’t like me.” Catherine was obviously unused to people not liking her.

“She is jealous of you,” he told her. “Pay no attention.”

“I fear I’ve made an enemy of her.”

“You’ve no reason to fear her or to be upset over how she feels. She is a servant

here, nothing more, and I’ve never suggested otherwise to her, but she has dreams that

may well become nightmares if she isn’t careful.”

There was something very cold and steely in Khenty’s words and when Catherine

glanced up at his face, she saw his jaw was clenched and his eyes were filled with

determination.

“I don’t want there to be enmity between us, milord,” she said softly. “It is never

good when women live in the same house to have one hating the other.”

“I will speak with her,” he said. “If she does not wish to behave as she should

toward you as the mistress of this manner, she is free to return to her homeland just as

Ola was free to leave. I keep no prisoners here.”

“I will miss Olabishi,” she said. “I wish Bahru hadn’t sent her away.”

“It was my understanding she wanted to return to Asaraba,” he said.

“I suppose she did,” Catherine admitted. “She was hired to be my companion for

propriety’s sake. If she hadn’t come to my room the night Bahru got drunk and tried

to…” She buried her face on his shoulder.

71

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

“I imagine he wanted to see if he could actually do what he was attempting to do,”

Khenty told her. “I am told those who prefer members of their own sex sometimes have

difficulty performing with those from the opposite sex.”

“The thought of him touching me in that way makes me ill,” she said. “It bothered

me before but it bothers me even more now that I know what he is.”

“Don’t think about it,” he said, stroking her hair. “You won’t be put in a position to

be at the taricheutes’ mercy ever again.”

“He will be furious that the Joining won’t take place,” she said. “I suspect my father

paid him a hefty dowry that he will be honor-bound to give back.”

“If that is the case, I will reimburse your father the amount of the dowry. I want

nothing to stand in the way of the two of us Joining.”

Catherine snuggled closer to Khenty. “I suspect Bahru didn’t want me in the first

place,” she said. “He told me it was what I represented that mattered. What could that

have meant?”

Khenty chuckled. “Respectability, wench,” he answered. “That and the dowry. Half

men like him need what is referred to as a beard—a woman whose presence in his life

covers up the true status of his sexuality. I suppose he thought it would not be

suspected he is a pedophile if he were married.” He smoothed his palm up and down

her arm. “My question is why your father gave you into the taricheutes’ keeping in the

first place. No one can answer that for me.”

Catherine laughed softly. “It might have something to do with the fact that I am the

third of his nine daughters and he was desperate to get rid of me so he could strike for a

good match for the fourth, his favorite. Until I was married off, Celeste could not,” she

surmised.

“Ah, well, then that makes sense.” He yawned hugely then apologized.

“You sound tired,” she said. “I can hear it in your voice.”

“I am tired.” He rested his chin atop her head and closed his eyes. “We’ll talk

tomorrow when Kaelin brings the tribunalist to perform the Joining.”

“Tomorrow?” she gasped, looking up at him. “Are you serious?”

“Very serious, wench.” He snuggled her in his arms. “I have no intention of letting

you get away from me. I will bind you to me legally and lovingly before I make you

completely mine.”

For a long time Catherine lay there in his arms listening to his easy breathing until

she was sure he slept. She was now too keyed up to do so, the thought of being his wife

tumbling through her brain to make it impossible to sleep. When at last exhaustion

proved too hard to fight, her eyelids drifted down and she sank into a sweet dream that

had her smiling in her sleep.

72

Shades of the Wind

Chapter Eight

Bahru’s thin face was livid with rage as he stood before his master. “She is my

betrothed. You can not just take her from me!”

“I can and I have,” Khenty said in a reasonable voice. It was giving him great

delight to sit at his desk—leaning back in his chair—and stare up at the taricheutes with

undisguised hostility. “The lady is mine and that is the end of the discussion.”

The taricheutes raised his chin. “I will make recourse to the Tribunal,” he stated.

“You may be of the royal house of Ben-Alkazar but I am not without influence in

Asaraba.”

Khenty grinned mercilessly. “In case you haven’t noticed, taricheutes, you are not

in Asaraba. Here, I am the law. Despite that fact, no Tribunal would deny me what I

want. I am of the lineage of a god. From whose less than noble loins did you spring?”

So angry he was trembling, Bahru gave in to his fury and spun around on his heel

and stormed off, forgetting both his manners and protocol.

“You could censure him for such conduct, Khenty,” Lord Kaelin remarked. He was

standing beside the prince’s desk with his arms crossed.

“I’ll deal with him in my own way and in a time of my choosing,” Khenty said. “He

has much for which to atone, McGregor.”

Kaelin shivered. “I don’t believe I’d like to be in his sandals.”

“I assure you that you would not,” Khenty stated.

“The taricheutes isn’t the only one you’re going to have trouble with over this,”

Kaelin suggested. “Have you told Nyria yet?”

“I have not seen her today. I don’t know if she’s aware the tribunalist is here or not

and I don’t care. Her feelings mean nothing to me.” Khenty rubbed a hand over his

eyes. Although he’d slept soundly, he’d awakened still tired. “When I brought her here

as my housekeeper it was with the understanding that I would one day marry. It was

she who came to my bed that first night. I did not go seeking her out. I have never made

any kind of promises to her. She knew what was between us was purely sexual.”

“I disagree with that assumption, my friend,” Kaelin said. “To her, it was far more.”

Khenty shrugged. “It shouldn’t have been. I have never given her any indication it

would be otherwise.”

“Women believe what they want to believe, Khenty. Mark my words—Nyria is

going to be a problem.”

“Perhaps I should make arrangements to send her back to her home,” the prince

commented. “That would settle the problem.”

73

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

“I believe that would be best,” Kaelin agreed.

“Then see to it. Have my ship provisioned and let the captain know there will be

two passengers making the trip.”

“Two?” Kaelin questioned.

“I’ll be sending the taricheutes back along with Nyria. I’ve no use for a half man

like him here. Until the Guild can send me another, I will handle the duties—as I did

before the half man came here.”

* * * * *

Bahru glanced at the tall tribunalist in his black robes of office, jeweled pectoral

necklace shining in the morning sun, and the fair-haired woman standing beside him.

The taricheutes hissed like an angry snake. He stalked past the imposing older man and

his female companion, cursing beneath his breath as he went. With his thin face set in

lines of anger, his almost non-existent lips pressed tightly together, hands clenched into

fists at his side, stooped shoulders bent forward in his agitation, the taricheutes

presented a very unimposing figure to those he passed.

“Get out of my way!” he snapped at Jacob, shoving the butler aside as he stomped

through the mansion in his search for Nyria. He found her sitting in the garden, her

swollen eyes cast to the ground at her feet. She didn’t look up at his approach. “What

are we going to do about this?” the taricheutes demanded.

Nyria lifted her head, flicked a cursory glance up and down the spindly man with

the protruding gut and said something beneath her breath.

“What?” Bahru growled. “What did you say?”

“I said you are a fool,” the black woman replied. “A fool to think you can go against

the master’s wishes.”

“She belongs to me!” Bahru shouted in a shrill voice. “Her father handed her into

my keeping!”

“Do you think that matters to a man like the prince?” Nyria asked, her upper lip

drawing upward. “If you do, you are even more than a fool. You are an idiot.

Remember what he is. He is a prince, an Anubi. You are not fit to touch the straps of his

sandals.”

Bahru lashed out with his right hand and slapped Nyria’s face with enough force

that she nearly toppled from the bench upon which she was sitting. The fiery imprint of

his palm was livid against her smooth complexion.

Not once in her life had the black woman ever been struck, and to have this

particular person be the first to do so was an insult. She leapt up from the bench and

attacked him, pummeling him with doubled fists on and about his head, shrieking as

though the hounds of hell had been set loose.

Stunned by the assault, Bahru could do no more than cross his hands over his

lowered head and stumble back, wincing as the woman kicked his shins, tried to knee

74

Shades of the Wind

him in his groin and stomped on his bare feet. He was yelping like a little girl with a

nest of enraged bees attacking her, hopping up and down from one foot to the other.

It was Hasani who came to the taricheutes’ rescue. He grabbed Nyria around her

waist and swung her away from the bleeding, bruised object of her vengeance.