The Barbarian Prince (13 page)

When Morrigan looked back over her shoulder, it was to see his arrogant, naked body striding from the bathroom. She choked on a wretched sob. He had done it again.

Chapter Nine

The next few days did not pass in pleasantness. Morrigan refused to speak to Ualan, shying to the other side of his home whenever he was near. He didn’t dare ask what she did all day by herself and her silently festering anger didn’t allow for conversation. He knew she spent every moment alone, for slaves were not allowed company, aside from their masters and other slaves. There were no other slaves in the Draig keep.

After discovering that his wife’s cleaning was definitely worse than her dirtying, he had sent a group of servants to go over his home. They were instructed to only speak in the old tongue so Morrigan sat quiet the entire time, not understanding them.

The truth was that he left his home to avoid her accusing glances. He made sure to send her food through a silent Mirox. The servant had told him that she tried to talk to him on several occasions. Ualan could tell the man hated not being able to respond in kind.

A few times he thought to sense tears in her wide gaze, but she turned too quickly for him to see them. Her pain was a chord of discontent within his chest. The crystal had joined their feelings so that their marriage may be blessed with understanding. He had accepted it by accepting the marriage. She had not.

His wife would never understand how hard it had been for him to leave her in that needy condition. Until she accepted him freely, she would never experience his feelings as he did hers. Forcing himself away, the sweetness of his release had been dampened by the bitterness of her unfulfilled desire.

He knew well her anger was just a defense, hiding the deeper rejection she felt in his betrayal. He cursed himself for his weakness in accepting her slave-gift. He should have known better. But when she kissed him so willingly with lips that were made for giving him pleasure, she had weakened him and had taken a good part of his sense. Now, it was all he could do not to go to her again. And, however much she was hurting, he was hurting tenfold, for guilt was a heavy burden for a warrior to bear.

"You missed practice again, brother," said Olek, looking down at where Ualan sat against a giant tree. Olek looked much like Ualan, with the same build and same brown hair, though he chose to wear his sides in braids. Olek’s soft green eye were strained and tired, but he managed a wry laugh.

Ualan raised a hand in greeting, not bothering to stand or explain. The soft, murmuring rhythm of Crystal Lake’s waters lapped nearby. The green skies were light and blew stirrings of clouds over the distance. The trilling call of the blue sofliar nesting overhead filtered down to them. Taking a seat beside his brother, Olek lifted a weed from the patch of grass and thoughtfully plucked it into his mouth.

"I see we are both cursed," grumbled Olek. "Lest you would not be avoiding your duty or me mine."

Ualan didn’t even try to deny it. "My wife has proclaimed herself a slave. Since she is the one to indenture herself, I cannot release her."

"Yes, I cannot help you there. The law states clearly that only she can seek the royal pardon."

"She won’t," Ualan said to the unasked question in his brother’s eyes. "And I have no idea how to persuade her."

"Does she know who you are? Does she know it is you who can clear her?" queried the green-eyed ambassador Prince, curious.

"No, I have no wish for her to know, not before she admits she is my wife. I would not have her considering my royal birth. It would defeat the purpose of the masks. Gardener or King, it is the same to the crystal bearers."

"I think our King is considering never doing business with Galaxy Brides again." Olek chuckled, though Ualan could tell he was depressed. "For they have sent all his sons mor-forwyns."

"That they have."

"Is it true she announced she was leaving you right after breaking your crystal?" asked Olek.

"Woe that Morrigan should find a spaceport," grumbled Ualan by way of an answer accompanied by a weary nod.

"Woe that she found a spaceport of our enemy," added Olek. When Ualan glanced over in surprise, he continued, "There have been rumors that our brides have not been seen within the castle."

"And who would dare to spread such a rumor?"

"Supporters of the Var would be my guess. Our father has decreed a festival in honor of his new daughters to coronate them. We have a week to convince them."

"I do not relish the idea of our brides meeting. I should not like to see them banded," grumbled the blue-eyed Ualan somberly. "I can’t hide the fact that she is a slave. I can’t bring her out."

"Ah! Our mother has started the rumor amongst her maids that she does it out of embarrassment for how she acted after binding you with the crystal. Soon it will be common news. She will be respected for purging her honor."

Ualan had to concede to his mother’s silent tactfulness. Her diplomatic ways were a great complement to his bold warrior father.

"The King fears that the Vars have spies within our walls," answered Olek.

"And you?" Ualan asked. A week? Thinking of Morrigan, he grew dejected. It wasn’t likely.

"I was to head to the shadowed marshes before the festival began. They were uncommonly bold," Olek admitted. "I could sense it on them. They plan something."

"Hmm."

"I know something that will cheer you, brother," Olek chuckled. "Yusef’s bride turned his own blade against his manhood. He was honor bound to put her in chastisement."

Both brothers shared a hearty laugh and breathtakingly handsome smiles. Their merriment echoed around them in the trees.

"Did she…?" snorted Ualan.

"No, just a nick."

"I hear Zoran’s screams like a tree witch every time he’s tried to touch her," admitted Ualan. "It is glad I am that he lives in the far side of the palace."

"Mother is quite upset by it," Olek answered, taking the grass from his mouth and throwing it to the water. He watched it float away. "It seems Zoran felt compelled to disfigure his wife and cut off all her hair. The castle is abuzz with the rumor and no one has seen her about."

"That makes no sense. Zoran would not shame his wife."

"Our father says he saw it," answered Olek with a shrug. "He’s upset because of the celebration. My wife has these contraptions, I will see if one won’t grow the poor woman’s hair back for her."

"Yeah, if what you say is true, we cannot let more shame come to the family. We’ll be lucky to get through the night without one of our brides trying to kill us."

Olek wearily chuckled.

"And you, brother?" Ualan asked. "What ails your bride that she won’t have you?"

Olek frowned, moving to stand. He held his hand down and pulled Ualan up to join him. "I truly do not know. But I think I am the most accursed of us all. My little solarflower wants nothing to do with me. At least your women fight you. Mine won’t even speak to me, let alone yell. How can I fight a battle that will not be fought?"

* * * *

Three days of silence was more than enough, Ualan decided, even if he wasn’t bound by his father’s decree to make things right before the festival. Besides, a warrior did not avoid battle and the time for strategic planning was over. His wife would come around, he would see to that.

Standing, hands on hips, Ualan could see his ‘slave’ did not feel the same way. She looked as if she would be perfectly content to keep lounging on his couch, staring at the round fire as if he wasn’t there. She was still dressed as a servant, her hair tied into a knot on the back of her head. He grimaced, hating the style for it kept the locks from readily falling into his fingers.

He knew she kept the uniform as a silent protest of him, since he had not decreed that she should continue to wear it and her own clothes were in the closet, untouched in her bag. The uniform was clean and pressed, but he wished for a moment she would let him buy her the fine dresses of a lady. In the village, the tailor and his seamstress wife had many bolts of cloth that would fit her coloring better. With a wicked smile, he acknowledged that it would also fit his very male desires to see her better attired--or not attired at all.

Ualan knew she felt him coming closer. Her breath deepened, but then caught and held, and the telltale beating of her pulse in her throat began to race. He reluctantly had to admire her determination. She was a stubborn woman. From what he had seen, most wives would have been complaining at such neglect, being forced to endure days of isolation and silence.

Morrigan tensed, momentarily surprised when Ualan didn’t continue past her as he had been wont to do the last several days. She knew he was giving her temper time to cool and possibly punishing her with the silent treatment. What he didn’t seem to understand was that she had navigated the stars for months at a time by herself with only a computer to talk to. Three days was nothing. She could hold out for a year. She’d done it before.

"Enough," he grumbled in displeasure, still standing. "I will have no more of your silence, slave."

"Would you rather I yell at you, caveman?" she growled. Her eyes instantly flashed with heat and Ualan thought maybe silence was more golden than speaking. "Or just slit your throat while you sleep?"

Ualan, whose lips had been tempted to form into a smile, quickly scowled. Darting forward with supernatural speed to where she sat on the couch, he took her throat into his palms and squeezed. Morrigan gasped in surprise at the unexpected attack, but held perfectly still, refusing to show fear. Ualan did not take the life from her throat. But, she could feel the power in his single hand to do so.

"You dare to threaten your husband?" he growled, incredulous. His eyes flashed a dangerous gold. Morrigan’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully, detecting it.

Gritting her teeth, she seethed in return, "How many times do I have to tell you, cav--ugh!"

Ualan’s fingers tightened, cutting of her words and part of her air supply. Her knot unraveled and the silken strands of her dark hair spilled over his hands as she struggled. Unable to resist, her fingernails clawed into his arm, trying to draw blood but merely scratching the surface. He shook her. When she stiffened, flinching in fear, he loosened his hold. "Call me that again, wife, and I will have your head. I have dealt with your insolence, but no more. Do you understand? I will have obedience and order in my home."

Morrigan’s lips trembled. Foolishly, she slapped his face, yelling, "I am not your wif--ugh!"

The hand tightened. He didn’t even flinch as the sting of her hand imprinted red on his face. "Do you understand?"

When he didn’t let go, Morrigan quickly nodded, though her eyes shot daggers. The hand softened, releasing her.

Morrigan pulled back, gasping and feeling her throat for injury. It was fine. Feeling the power of him, the steady control, did something to her though. Her insides melted and she almost fainted with her desire.

Ualan’s eyes narrowed.

Taking several more breaths, she uttered, "I am not your wife, ca--" She stopped herself in time.

Her words lacked the fire of conviction as her wide eyes stared at him. She saw longing deep in him. Or did she see it? No, his expression was blank, hardened. His eyes were glaring. Closing her eyes, she felt the wave of it again and it wasn’t coming from her.

Unknowingly, she pulled him forward to her. Not with hands, but with her longing for him, with the desire he smelled building in her, beckoning. It had been so hard on her the last several days. After he left her in the tub, she had stayed there for nearly an hour, panting, raging, crying, plotting his death in a hundred ways. Her whole body craved him, more than the wanderlust, more than the adventure of traveling to distant galaxies. If he would just relent his stubborn ways….

Ualan was summoned by the tips of her angered nerves to her throat. He could see the mark of his hand on her and was instantly sorry for it. Closing his eyes, he lightly kissed her where his hand had been so rough, his lips naturally seeking to soothe her ache.

Morrigan gasped, but was concentrating so hard on discovering what that weird power floating around her senses was that she let him kiss her for the moment. His body leaned over her, trapping her beneath him without touching. His hands braced his weight on either side of her waist. She didn’t move, frozen stiff as he gently brushed feathery caresses over the skin, comforting the dull ache. Her quivering fingers reached for his face where her angry handprint still glared.

His kisses drew along her jaw, light and airy. Morrigan sighed, forever tormented by what he did to her. He smelled so good. She knew he would stop before she found pleasure, hadn’t he always? But that faint hope inside her told her to wait, that maybe, just maybe he’d finish it this time.

"I’m sorry if I hurt you," he murmured to the corner of her parted lips. "But you could be killed for threatening the life of … your master."

He had been about say ‘a Prince’, but thought better of it. She was too agreeable now for him to risk enraging her.

Morrigan kept her eyes closed, knowing that he was sorry. She didn’t know how, but she could almost feel his heartbeat reverberate slowly in her chest. A fog overcame her brain like with the glowing crystal, connecting them, allowing them to sense each other.

"I didn’t mean to slap you," she admitted honestly, before she could think to stop herself. "I was scared."

"I am the one person you should never fear," he whispered, brushing his lips closer to hers. It was a delicate truce and he was almost afraid to move lest he damage it.

"You’re the one person I do fear," she said, her lips turning to speak against his. Her voice was whispery, as if in a trance. She sucked his breath into her mouth, feeling the connection deepen. It was almost like she could feel his desire. The truth rolled out of her unhampered. "You keep me prisoner."

Ualan sighed. Her words hurt him because he knew them to be true. She did fear him. How could he blame her? Every time she yelled, he yelled back, or much worse, he teased her into horrific, unrealizable passion and left her like that.