Shadows: Book One of the Eligia Shala (64 page)

Returning to the palace as the service concluded, Blaise carried Jenevra. “You look beautiful,” he murmured into her ear. “Although I almost thought you might turn up in a sheet.”

“And I thought you preferred me when I’m half-drowned,” Jenevra grinned.

Following a lengthy dinner, the older contingent of the party decided to adjourn to the Dowager Empress’ suite.

“Fine idea,” agreed Phillip. “We’ll all go to my rooms and have drinks up there.” His wife still being less than pleased with him about the rushed nature of these weddings, he was hoping to mellow her out a little more before bedtime.

Phillip and Christiana were sitting together, as were Baran and Clera. Richard had joined them, as had Jann Crevaux. Jenevra sat between Blaise and her brother. The beer had been flowing quite freely earlier, and now that they’d begun on wine, the men were getting louder.

Clera and Christiana exchanged a long-suffering look as Baran and Phillip started arguing good-naturedly about something. Jenevra was talking to Richard who was complaining that she’d married. “Honestly, Jenn, we were just getting to know each other and now you go off and get married too. Stephan’s off with Allegra and I’m all my own.”

“That’s how I’ve felt for years. You’ll get over it,” Jenevra said unsympathetically. “Anyway, you’re not really on your own, are you? Or, at least, you needn’t be.”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” Richard folded his arms defensively.

“Of course you don’t. Really, Richard, how stupid do you think everyone is?” Jenevra noted sarcastically. “You know, there’s always Coural. Anyway it’s up to you isn’t it? You know I love you whatever, don’t you?” She leaned across and kissed him on the cheek, whispering, “Both of you.”

Richard’s face changed; a look of panic emerging. “You haven’t told anyone have you?”

“Of course not. It’s no-one else’s business.”

“Does Chris know? Or Stephan?”

“I don’t know, Richard … really. I doubt Stephan would have guessed, but Chris may have. I haven’t talked to either of them about it, so I don’t know for sure.”

“What about Tessier?”

She shook her head. “Will you calm down? I told you, I haven’t told anyone. I just don’t want to see you thinking you always have to be alone. If you want my help, it’s there, that’s all.” She patted his cheek, brushing his hair away from his eyes. “I like your hair that bit longer too,” she smiled, laying her cheek against his for a moment.

“Jenn?” Blaise tugged at her other sleeve. “Any time for me?”

Blaise carried her back to their room; Jenevra’s room. “Tired?” He asked, kicking his boots off and throwing his jacket over a chair.

“Just a little,” she looked up through her lashes at him, pulling at the ties on his shirt. “Wynn made my usual tonic a bit stronger tonight.”

Holding her close and kissing her, he unlaced the back of her gown. As his fingers touched the bare skin of her back he hesitated. “Are you sure you’re alright with this, Jenn?” He whispered, his hair falling forward around her face. “We have all the time we need. Just tell me if you need me to stop.”

“Are you just going to talk about this all night, Captain?” She tugged at his shirt again and he ducked his head so she could pull it right off. Kissing the small scar on his shoulder from the arrow she’d removed, she tipped her head back to look into his eyes; the wine they’d drunk giving her that same kaleidoscope effect of gold, black and brown specks floating in his eyes like a universe. Sighing happily as he kissed her again, working his way along her neck and shoulders, Jenevra shrugged her way out of her dress and under clothes, white and pink folds collecting around her feet like the fallen blossoms in the orchard; leaving her naked in his arms.

“Well, you’re certainly relaxed,” Blaise smiled as he laid her on the bed, pulling a soft woolen blanket over them. Sliding next to her he held her slender form against him, softly caressing the long limbs, tenderly exploring the lithe body he’d so longed to possess. His fingers traced the lines of the sword cuts across the front of her body, slowly trailing upwards to her breasts. As his mouth followed his fingers, he felt her tense against him. Raising his eyes to her face, he saw fear there and immediately stopped, bringing her close to him, holding her head against his shoulder. “It’s alright, Jenn. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m so sorry, Blaise,” she mumbled into his chest. “I really thought the wine would make sure this didn’t happen.” She raised tear-filled eyes to him.

“Jenn,” he kissed her gently. “Even without anything else, chances are this would still be weird for you. It’s our first time. We have all night … every night for the rest of our lives, to make this work. You just need to relax.” Talking softly he pulled the covers over both of them, shedding the rest of his clothes somewhere in the process. Stroking the tension out of her again, he let his hand slide tenderly down her back, waiting anxiously to see if she would tense again. Working slowly, he let her become accustomed to his touch, feeling every little tremor that proved he was making headway. As his hand stroked the side of her breast again, he kissed her face, her mouth, whispering soothingly to her. “It’s me … Blaise. Trust me, Jenn. I won’t hurt you.” His fingers ran lightly over the smooth mound again as his eyes held hers, reassuring her that it wasn’t a memory or a nightmare.

Losing herself in his eyes again, Jenevra heard the words echoing like a mantra in her mind; trust him, trust him. Her fingers lingered over each part of his body, learning new feelings; the hard long muscles of his back, the soft hair on his chest and stomach, the lines of old scars, the scratchy stubble of his almost close shave. She smiled as his moustache and light beard tickled her; gasped as his fingers and mouth discovered newly sensitive parts of her body. When his hand drifted gently down across her hip, her heart pounded as if it was trying to jump out of her chest; her breathing rapid and shallow.

Recognizing, but not quite understanding, the near panic in her, Blaise pulled back slightly; elated when she put his hand back, knowing she was trying to let him know she trusted him, whatever her reactions seemed to be saying. Shivering as his hand dipped lower, she put her hand against his chest to stop him from kissing her, watching his dark eyes intently as he finally touched her inside. The question he could read clearly in her eyes was answered by the gleam of satisfaction he couldn’t quite manage to keep from his own. She could never be sure exactly when she finally gave her complete trust to him, but knew only an explosion of sensations deep within that left her happy and exhausted cradled in his arms. “That was incredible,” she breathed, rolling away onto her back, eyes wide. “Is it always like that?”

Blaise laughed, kissing the long scar across her ribs. “I have a strange feeling that it might be, with you.” Leaning on his elbow next to her he pulled a long strand of her hair forward, tickling her stomach with it. “You’re sure you’re all right?”

“More than all right.” She slid closer to him again, happier than she had ever felt before. “When can we do that again?”

 CHAPTER FORTY FIVE

In the early hours of the morning, Emperor Phillip Marissime slid out of the bed he shared with his beautiful, sleeping wife and, racked by guilt, sank into a chair by the dying fire. Prodding it to new life, he took a thin sheet of paper out of the pocket of his robe. Unfolding it again, he read it for what felt like the thousandth time, resting his head in his hands as he came to the same conclusion as he had every other time he’d read it. His thoughts were as black as the robe he wore.

It simply wasn’t fair.

It didn’t matter how he tried to look at it, he knew he would have a hard time living with himself in the months and years to come if things turned out the way the letter said they would. And why would he doubt it? Everything else the Dai-Nimh had written to him had come to pass. Why wouldn’t the rest of it—the part he hadn’t shared with anyone else—be equally accurate?

Still, he couldn’t help the tremendously guilty feelings that were crowding him. Why had he allowed Jenevra to marry Tessier? Knowing it was doomed, how could he have promised her a moment of happiness knowing he would dash it away from her as soon as she was fit enough?

Because you wanted her to know that happiness even if only for a brief time, he tried to justify it to himself. Even if that happiness would be poisoned.

Hating everything the Order had come to mean to him, and for everything it had taken, and would demand again, from his young cousin; Phillip finally decided to let life take them as it would.

Crumpling the thin letter, he threw it onto the fire, watching it disintegrate into ash.

A Page of the lost letter from Dai-Nimh to Phillip Marissime

Prophecies tell us one of our own will lie behind the plot to threaten the Empire from within. There are also forces at work outside of your own Empire that will build and attack in the future. Deaths will be required; deaths of people you once thought you could trust. Many will be lost in the struggles. You must remain strong or the Empire will truly be lost.

While the Order here will always act for the preservation and safety of the Empire, it may be that we will finally tear ourselves apart in the struggle to do so. Know, my Emperor, that we are not the only part of our Order. We came to these lands many years ago in a split from another group. Our methods differ, as do our philosophies on the value of life and death. The ancient writings of the Order point us towards a time when the separation will be ended. As this would also suggest that one point of view will prevail, I can only pray that they will come to accept our vision, but my heart tells me this will not be so.

I believe it was necessary to take the princess into our Order against that very possibility. The inclusion of a woman in either section of our Order has always been contentious. It goes against every tradition we hold dear, but it means that she is in many ways isolated from much of the internal politics of the Order. The isolation is what makes the choice of a woman so valuable in the circumstances. Always working to prove herself against the men, she remains apart; never quite fully accepted and so, therefore, also not likely to be influenced by them. It is a hard thing to do; to train and fight for acceptance against the best, to prove yourself over and over again only to have every step and achievement questioned.

The princess has always remained slightly separate from others throughout her short life. The tragic loss of her parents was merely one step in the long road towards creating the young woman she is today. Distancing her from friends and family was another step. She will take paths through this life that will demand her solitude and isolation from others: sacrifices she will be asked to make over and over again. It was necessary to make harsh choices to bring her to this point.

Never doubt that she can do what is needed. Rarely have I seen anyone with her resolve: certainly not at her age. Her training has already taken her along paths of darkness that you might hesitate to put before her. Her commitment to her training has been total, as is her devotion to the Order. It has not been an easy path for her, and there are struggles ahead for her, particularly if what I have seen comes to pass.

Do not fear for her; she is stronger than you can ever comprehend. She would willingly lay down her life for yours, or to protect the Empire, and that is why she is returning to you now. Even in your world of court and Empire she will be forced to make choices that require her to choose the loneliest paths. Do not be afraid of this. She is your cousin, I understand this; but you will be Emperor, and you cannot afford misplaced weakness. Use her as you need to. She understands—even to the point of death—it is what she has trained for.

I sense the time approaching when the betrayals will begin. It may very well prove to be the last days of this Order. She is safer with you for now. The betrayals will start here, this much I have seen. She will avenge us, but she must be free to do so. This is where you have power to help us. Find a way to allow her to act as your arm within the Empire.

If she remains alive at the end of the turmoil, please indulge an old man’s wishes and kiss her once in memory of me. My regrets, such as I permit myself, are all for her, for the loneliness we are forcing upon her; a child with an incomprehensible capacity for love given how lacking it has been in her own life. The last five years have been tempestuous with her here, yet I find myself deeply saddened at the thought of her leaving. Know also that she is named in prophecy. I have tested the words, and I am convinced that she is the one spoken of as The Eligia Shala; the prophetess of Storms; whose life will be spent in turmoil and strife.

Her personal commitment and loyalty to you should remain without any question in your own mind. It is absolute. Above all else, Your Highness, trust her judgment, and her heart. I leave her with you.

Reprinted with kind permission of the Imperial Archives, Salanova.