Untouchable (3 page)

WHEN
Sanura was returned to her room, Paki removed her chains. He did not like to see her restrained this way, she knew, but the resentful queen had insisted that whenever Sanura was not in her quarters, she would be restrained. Seeing Sanura in chains gave the queen a sense of satisfaction, a sense of ease. Even though her skin was slightly chafed, Sanura did not hold a grudge against the queen. The pitiful woman was insecure. Jealous. Lacking.

If it were entirely up to the queen, these quarters would likely be in the dungeon of this fine castle, or else Sanura would be forced to share a stable with the horses. The king was smarter than his sad wife, and understood that he was obligated to care for the gift he’d been given, even if he did not wish to—or was not allowed to—touch her.

When Paki and Kontar, her guards and countrymen, left her alone, Sanura sat before the small mirror in her room. She opened the ornate box at the center of the table, then took a fine brush and dipped it into the powder there. When she touched the powder to her skin, it turned almost liquid, it became the paint which covered her. She repaired the makeup on her wrists, where the shackles had very lightly marred their smoothness. The dense powder was not easy to remove, but the constant rubbing of the shackles had marked her. She had been assigned two maids who could see to such ministrations, but the servants disliked her as much as the jealous queen, so it was easier—and more pleasant—to see to such simple matters herself.

As she tended to the imperfection, Sanura’s thoughts dwelled upon what tomorrow would bring. She was ready to leave this place where her gifts were not appreciated, where she was forced to spend most of her days in this lonely room without sunlight or companionship. She did not know what her new position would bring, but it would surely be different from this lonely existence, and so there was hope that her circumstances would improve.

The one who was to escort her to another, the one they called Prince Alixandyr, was intrigued by the blue, as were many men who were unaccustomed to the ways of the Agnese, but he was not repulsed by her the way many men of this country were. So many she had met were either frightened of her gift or repulsed by the color of her skin. She did not care what any man who was so squeamish and narrow-minded thought of her, so her feelings were never hurt by their rejection. A man who was afraid to have another look into his soul obviously had something to hide.

Prince Alixandyr was unlike the others in more ways than one. Not only was he not frightened by her differences, he also had a black and empty space inside him that she could not read. He did not always think of himself as Alixandyr or Alix, but sometimes thought of himself by another name, a name she could not quite catch. It was odd, even alarming. Though he was not an imposter, he was also not entirely as he presented himself. She could see that he was a soldier and a politician, dedicated to his country and his brother and not entirely happy with his life—yet neither was he unhappy. He did what needed to be done without complaint, and he possessed a nobility which would not allow one such as the queen to do murder in the name of jealousy.

Sanura had learned that very few people in this world were honest about who they really were. Most hid behind faces that were forced, and they pretended to be what they were expected to be or what they wanted to be. For that reason she never attempted to disguise who she was. She never pretended, or hid behind false words and faces.

The females of the Agnese were not seers or sages. They did not see what the future might bring, nor did they see into the past. What they saw was who a person—especially a man—was at the pit of his soul. Fears, desires, strengths, and weaknesses, with a bit of concentration an Agnese female could see them all. When Sanura had looked into the prince from Columbyana, she had glimpsed strength and nobility and ordinary male desires, but there had also been a blackness that hid from her, a darkness that slept.

If she joined with him, she would see past the blackness. If they had sexual relations, she would know Prince Alix to his soul, because there were no secrets when she and another were linked. Mere men desired the Agnese because in an instant, every desire they possessed could be realized and met. There was no physical sensation to compare with sex with an Agnese female. Silly men, they did not know how deeply they were joined in that moment, how much of themselves they gave to the woman they saw only as a possession, an object of pleasure.

They did not know that with every joining, the woman who pleasured them became stronger, that she took as much as she gave.

Prince Alixandyr would be a good lover, she suspected. He was handsome and healthy and well built. He had the look of a man who was more warrior than prince, more soldier than politician, more civilized than not. He was strong and considerate and—sleeping blackness aside— there was a kindness in his green eyes. What a shame that she was intended for his brother, the emperor. If the black-haired, green-eyed prince dared to touch her, if he caressed her skin and stained himself with her blue, Paki and Kontar would not hesitate to kill him.

LADY
Verity of the Northern Province, only daughter— only child—of a wealthy merchant who owned nearly all of the town of Mirham and much of the land beyond the city, was filled with excitement. At last,
at last
, she was going to escape her sometimes dreary and always predictable life!

She did not bother to hide her joy from the two women who were in her bedchamber, as she tried to decide which of her many gowns to take with her. She certainly did not wish to drag them all, but there were a few things she would not leave behind. She looked excellent in blue and in rose. The green and yellow she could leave behind. Once she was empress, everything could be replaced, but until then she would need her favorite and most flattering things. She’d be leaving home in two days, and she was not at all ready! Well, mentally she was ready, but she still had so much to do.

Her mother tried not to cry but did not entirely succeed. Verity had told her mum many times that she would visit Arthes often, once she was mother to the empress. Those words didn’t help much. Verity tried very hard not to let her mum see her own infrequent tears. Of course she was looking forward to being empress, but she would miss her parents.Still, she was nineteen years old, and it was time for her to begin the life she’d been promised.

Her mum’s witch, the sweet if occasionally creepy Mavise, remained calm while the other two females in the room alternately sniffled and agonized over what to pack. Mavise had always known, of course, that this day would come. For the past nineteen years she had said that Verity was destined to be the wife of a great man who had come from humble beginnings. Verity had always wondered how that would be possible, since there were
very
few great men in the Northern Province and, thanks to her father’s wealth, she knew none who had come from humble beginnings.

But when the request had come from the palace in Arthes, and her father had told her the story of the emperor’s lost and decidedly humble years, she had known the truth. She was going to be empress.

“Do not waste your time packing too many things you will not need,” Mavise said calmly. “Too many unnecessary possessions will only slow your journey.”

“What do I need, then?” Verity asked.

“Only two things are of importance.” Mavise smiled as she reached into the deep pocket of her plain dress and withdrew the objects in question. “First, this talisman I fashioned for you.” She offered a wrapped amber stone at the end of a long silver chain.

Verity sighed as she took it. “Mavise, you know I prefer gold to silver. It’s more flattering with my golden hair.”

The witch continued to smile. “The silver has more magic, girl, as I have told you many times before. Wear it beneath your clothes. It will bring you much luck.”

Verity was going to ask why she needed luck when marrying the emperor was her destiny, but she didn’t get a chance before Mavise handed over the second object she held, a small cloth bag closed with a leather thong and thick with some hidden substance. The old woman laid the bag in Verity’s hand and then covered it with her own. “Be very careful with this, girl.”

“What is it?”

“A powerful love potion.”

Verity’s spine straightened and her chin came up. “I do not need magic to make a man love me.” She was very pretty and young and magnificently charming, and could be sweet and well mannered when it suited her.

“Take it,” Mavise said. “Your life will be much happier if your husband is madly in love with you and will do whatever you ask of him without question. One pinch of this, and he will be yours forever. One pinch, and your every desire will become his every desire. He will give you all that you wish, all that you yearn for. A few grains, and he will adore you for all of his days.”

Verity took the bag. She did not think she’d need such a potion, but just in case . . .

She kissed her mother and hugged Mavise, knowing that she would see them often in the next two days but also knowing she would soon be leaving them behind. It was a little sad. Sad and exciting and scary and wonderful.

After the other women left her alone for the evening, Verity donned her nightgown and brushed her hair as she thought of the days ahead. The trip to Arthes would be arduous, she imagined, but it was also necessary. She pulled the lucky talisman over her head. Even though the plain adornment was made of stone and silver, she realized she could not have too much good luck in the weeks to come.

As she was ready to douse the candles, she heard laughter. She walked to the window to look down from her second-story bedchamber at the men who had gathered below to drink and laugh and share stories. Sentinels! The torches which surrounded her home on this mild spring night were bright enough to illuminate them all. There were only three of them, but they were a rugged and uncivilized lot.

One of the sentinels looked up, even though she had not made a sound. Their eyes met, and he smiled at her. She had noticed this one before. Laris, as she had heard him called, did not seem as uncivilized as the others.

“Are we disturbing you, m’lady?” he asked in a voice just loud enough to reach her.

The other two sentinels continued their discussion and laughter, not at all concerned about whether they were disturbing her. Only this one seemed to care. “A bit,” she said. “Tomorrow will be a busy day, and I need my sleep.” She was such a grouch if she did not get proper rest, and there was so much to do before she departed home for her new life as empress.

“That will not do at all, m’lady.” Laris gave a curt and very manly bow, and then he led the others away from her window. He looked back once and smiled, before the light of the torches no longer reached far enough to illuminate him.

Verity dismissed the handsome sentinel from her mind, doused the candles, and crawled into bed. Yes, she needed sleep, but could she? Could she rest at all when her mind was spinning so? Yes, she could, she thought with determination. She would dream of being empress, and of having an emperor husband who adored her beyond all reason. She would dream of being the wife of a great man, of having everything any woman might possibly ask for.

Yes,
everything
.

THE
traveling party was much larger—and much slower— than Alix would’ve liked. Still, he remained his usual stoic and calm self as he led Princess Edlyn, the beautiful blue Sanura, their collective guards and servants, and his own sentinels toward Arthes. As the days passed, he remained uncomplaining and courteous to all those around him, even though inside he was near boiling. Jahn would be in an absolute rage by now if he were subjected to the women and their demands.

The princess did not care for riding on horseback, so she was pulled along in a boxy conveyance that moved at a snail’s pace. She insisted upon stopping frequently to stretch her limbs and complain about the bumpiness of the ride. Edlyn commanded that Sanura remain as far away from her as possible, so if the princess’s slow conveyance was at the rear of the party, as it usually was, the blue slave was forced to ride at the front. As Alix led the procession, and as he did not care to be anywhere near the complaining princess, he was forced to travel with Sanura practically at his side.

She did not ride astride, but made the journey very gracefully perched in a massive sidesaddle. With her back unbendingly straight and her long legs more revealed than not, she was truly a sight to behold. Alix was accustomed to her blueness after more than a week of seeing her on a daily basis. It suited her, as did the black hair which was usually pulled atop her head in a pigtail that spilled out into a thick, straight fall which bounced with the horse’s gait.

As they’d begun their journey he had insisted that Sanura not be chained. It was impractical to travel with a bound prisoner. If she decided to make off with her two surly guards, then all the better for everyone involved.

Sanura was unlike the princess in every way. Not only did she not complain about the conditions of travel, she did not often speak at all. She never spoke to Alix. In fact, if she was aware of his existence, she did not show it in any way. Edlyn passed most of her days hidden in her dreary coach and spent every night in her private tent. Sanura seemed to love living under the open skies. She all but basked in the sun, and though she had a private tent of her own, she retired there only to sleep. In her waking hours, night and day, she moved among the others, silent and sensual and oddly peaceful.

Whenever he heard the rattle of her girdle and bracelets and long earrings, Alix was reminded of music. The swish of the golden fabric which draped her body was just as harmonious. Other women so adorned clattered when they moved; they rustled and clanked. Sanura sang, and her song reached inside Alix and made his gut dance. When her movements made that song, he could not think of anything else—at least for a moment or two, until he forced his attention elsewhere.

And still, in his mind she was as contrary and bothersome as the princess. He was constantly aware of her, and though she was not demanding, her guards and the two Tryfynian maids who traveled with her insisted on stopping more often than he liked.

Sanura had to be aware of the curious eyes which were constantly upon her, but she never seemed nervous or ill at ease. She had to know that the men who watched her had, at the very least, passing lascivious thoughts. Her keepers did not even glance at her in an inappropriate way, but in their party there were four Columbyanan sentinels and six Tryfynian guards, all of them young, healthy, and distracted by the half-naked, curvaceous woman in their midst.

Her body was more revealed than not in the foreign costume she wore, and the unnatural color of her skin drew the eye to every curve, every angle. Sanura was forbidden, and for some men that made her all the more attractive. Not Alix. He had always staunchly avoided that which was truly forbidden. He followed the rules, always. He did not reach for those things which were not meant to be his, whether it was a woman or the ruling of a country.

But even he looked.

Alix had never lacked for female companionship. Even before he had discovered his true heritage and found himself in a position of power—as next in line for the throne of Columbyana and as an influential advisor to the emperor— women had been drawn to him. Unlike his brother, he was discriminating, and he preferred short-term monogamous relationships to bouncing from one woman to the next with abandon. Those relationships never lasted very long. As soon as any woman got too close, as soon as she looked at him with curious eyes that asked too clearly, “What are you hiding?,” he found a reason to walk away. It was best that way. It was the only way.

Now past thirty years of age, Alix had considered marriage a time or two. The same priests and ministers who had been demanding that Jahn marry had also been hounding Alix—though less strenuously and less often. Still, he knew the time was coming when he would be forced to take that step. His position demanded it. When the time came, he would be obliged to choose a woman who would be a distant wife. He would be forced to choose a woman he did not like too well, a bride who would not look too closely or ask questions he could not answer, and yet he did not wish to be shackled with a wife he did not like at all.

The demands on a soldier were simpler, and there were times when he wished he could return to that time in his life.

While the sentinels saw to the horses and the Tryfynian soldiers and servants began to erect the tents the females insisted upon each night, Alix walked away from them all, moving toward a shallow stream they had just crossed. He needed a moment of silence, a chance to breathe deeply and still the stirring at his core. He would not allow that stirring to rule him. He would not give in to the animal inside him.

He would not become his father.

Alix squatted beside the stream and splashed water on his face. The chill was refreshing and stimulating, and served to bring him into the reality of now. There was no need to ponder what might happen in months and years to come. First he needed to get through this trial and deliver Princess Edlyn to Jahn. Somehow he thought his brother would not choose the Tryfynian princess, even though she was more highly placed than the others who were being fetched for the same purpose. She was too harsh, too petty. A shiver of warning ran up Alix’s spine. What if his brother insisted that Edlyn become
his
bride, in the name of keeping peace with the neighboring country? What if Jahn chose a more agreeable bride, and forced his brother to wed the demanding, petulant Edlyn?

Inside, a part of him rebelled against the very idea, but he understood himself well enough to know that if that sacrifice was asked of him, he would agree without argument. Whether he was called Alixandyr Beckyt or Trystan Arndell, he always did his duty without complaint. That was who he was, who he insisted upon being.

“You confuse me.”

Alix turned his head toward the woman who surprised him with her lightly accented voice. Annoyed at being disturbed,but also intrigued, he said, “You do not know me. How can you possibly be confused?”

Sanura—blue-skinned, bright-eyed, and scantily clad— sat down beside him, not too close but more than close enough to make Alix’s mouth go dry. “Seeing into people is my gift,” she said, her blue eyes alight with that curiosity which always sent him running. His eyes were drawn to her full lips.

“So I have been told,” he responded in a calm voice.

“While it is true that some people are more complicated than others, at their core most are simple. Kind, greedy, cruel, needful . . . there is always a strong foundation deep within that we are forced to call upon or disguise or embrace. ”

His heart skipped a beat. It was not possible that this woman could see anything of the struggle he lived with every day. She could not know.

“But you,” she continued, easing her body closer to his, “you are not so simple. You are at war within, in a way I have never seen before. I did not understand until last night, when I saw you wandering through the camp at midnight. ”

Alix breathed easier. The woman was a charlatan. “I was sound asleep at midnight.”

“A part of you, the part you have chosen to embrace, slept,” she said. “The other part, the dark side you seek to hide, was not.”

“Impossible,” he muttered.

“Apparently not,” she answered just as softly.

He decided to change the subject. “Where are your guards?”

“I told those who have my keeping that I needed a moment alone to see to private matters.” She nodded her head and that long, black pigtail swayed. Jewels sang, and he heard the music at his very core. “I thank you, Prince Alixandyr, for ordering that I not be treated as a prisoner during the journey. It has made my days most pleasant.”

“We have no prisoners here.”

“What of my life at our destination? Will your brother accommodate me as King Bhaltair did? Will he lock me away and keep me in chains in a small room where the sun never shines?”

“No,” Alix responded quickly. “My brother does not believe in slavery of any kind. I’m quite sure he will free you.” Sooner or later. Jahn was sure to be intrigued by Sanura; what man would not be? Would he be intrigued enough to keep her around when he was surrounded by potential brides? Was Jahn brave enough to sleep with a woman who could see into the pit of his soul?

“I am not meant to be free,” Sanura said without rancor. “The emperor may give me to another, but he may not release me. It is not the way.” She took a deep breath that did interesting things to her bosom.

“Surely you desire freedom.”

“The women of the Agnese were not created to have desires of their own. We hear the desires of others, and when it is acceptable, when those desires emanate from those who possess us, we fulfill them.”

“Everyone has desires of their own,” Alix insisted.

Sanura smiled, her wide mouth twisting into a seductive grin. “I came to speak of your lot in life, not my own. Your darker side intrigues me. I have never seen anything like it.”

His inner battle was a subject he would rather not explore, but Alix found himself drawn into this conversation he could never have with any other. Only Sanura saw. “If I have, as you say, a dark side, then why do you speak to me of it? Aren’t you afraid?”

“No,” she whispered.

“Why not?”

“I’m not sure. You are different,” she said, as if she did not entirely understand. “I see the struggle inside you, but I cannot be afraid.” She looked at him intensely for a moment, and then she glanced away as if embarrassed. “Perhaps I am unafraid because you saved me. The queen we left behind would’ve gladly taken my life.”

“Surely not . . .”

“Yes. She dreamed of the ways in which she might end my life. In the moment when you were undecided about escorting me to your brother, she thought of how the deed might be done. She relished the thought of seeing me dead, so you see, you did save me.” Her fingers clenched and unclenched.

“You are not obligated to me in any way,” Alix said, calling upon his most distant tone of voice. How would a woman like Sanura repay such a debt? He could only imagine... and he should not imagine . . .

“I have another reason for speaking to you privately,” she said, putting a hint of false bravery into her slightly accented voice as she deftly changed the subject. “One among us is planning aggression. I see no specific plans, no hatred of a person among us, but I sense that the violent thoughts grow stronger each day. There will be death before our journey is done, I fear.”

“I was told you do not see the future.”

“That is true, but I do see what is in men’s hearts and souls. With that knowledge, certain behavior can be predicted. Your sentinel, the one with the fair hair and brown eyes, he hides feelings of hostility.”

“Vyrn is a warrior,” Alix responded. “Hostility is his livelihood.”

Sanura nodded. “I do not believe that is true, but it is possible that the violence he conceals may sleep within him for the rest of his life, the same way that which you hide may sleep. That is a comforting thought, I suppose. I have done my duty in telling you what I saw. The rest is up to you, Prince Alixandyr.” Again, she looked him in the eye. Yes, this was a woman who looked too deeply and saw too much.

“I will release you and your guards now,” he said, anxious to be rid of this woman who looked into him so. “You are free to leave us at any time.”

“I told you, I am not meant to be free.”

Her acceptance of her lot in life angered Alix. She seemed to think it was an honor to be owned by another, whereas she should be outraged. “Perhaps where you come from that is true, but you are in Columbyana now, and we have no slaves here. Jahn outlawed the possession of another person his first year on the throne.”

“I answer to my own laws.”

“I cannot believe that you don’t wish for freedom,” he said, his voice sharp with frustration.

Her face remained calm, her eyes serene, her breath slow and even. “I would not know what to do with freedom. To be free and alone is not who I am. I was born, raised, and trained to be possessed.”

“Everyone wants to be free.”

Sanura smiled. “No man or woman is truly free, Prince Alixandyr. We are all owned by something or someone, are we not? You yourself are possessed by responsibilities, by your brother, by your country. Is that so very different from my own circumstance?”

“Yes.”

Again she looked at him with eyes which saw too much. Her smile faded. “You are also possessed by that which you hide so well. It rules your life as surely as the laws of the Agnese rule mine. May I speak once more about your own soul and heart?”

Alix’s instinct was to say no, but he hesitated. No one else knew of the struggle within him, no one but this odd, blue, beautiful woman, and he did want to know exactly how much she saw. “If you wish,” he said.

She lifted a hand that skimmed his face—not quite touching, but so close, so very close. “I like your eyebrows. ”

“My eyebrows,” he repeated.