Warrior (17 page)

soldier to send the messenger to the

study. He looked to Varian, who

glared at him before looking back to

the two soldiers who were about to

start

fighting

once

more,

and

reluctantly followed him to the library.

A soldier escorted the messenger

into the library.

“Well?”

Varian

demanded,

impatience obvious in his voice.

“What is the message?”

The messenger looked from Varian

to Vulcan before swallowing audibly.

Vulcan’s scowl only deepened.

Drawing in a breath, the messenger

said, “I am to give the message only to

the Princess Jaisyn of Lytheria.”

Vulcan’s

and

Varian’s

eyes

narrowed simultaneously.

“Who is the message from?”

Vulcan’s tone was biting, and his dark

eyes looked murderous.

The messenger flinched and replied

slowly. “I am only to discuss that only

with Princess Jaisyn.”

Vulcan motioned to the soldier at

the door.

“Bring

Princess

Jaisyn

here

immediately,”

he

began,

staring

directly at the messenger. “And have

one of the squires fetch my sword.”

The soldier nodded and went about

his assigned tasks. Vulcan wished

Jaisyn would get here quickly so that

he could truly wring her neck. He

didn’t know what she’d done, but he

knew that he wasn’t going to like it.

Whenever Jaisyn was involved, there

was trouble.

***

A feeling of foreboding snaked

through her as Jaisyn made her way

to what had been her father’s study.

She was reaching for the door when it

was suddenly yanked open and a

man, probably the messenger, ran

past her and headed for the main

doors. If the messenger was gone,

then—

“Come in and close the door behind

you.”

Vulcan did not sound happy, not

that he ever did, but this time, he

sounded even worse. He sounded

ready to commit murder... on her. As

she closed the door, she noticed that

Vulcan’s unsheathed sword lay atop

the large wooden desk and an

unrolled parchment was right before

it. Someone cleared his throat. Varian

was also in the room. He stood by one

of the bookshelves, on his brother’s

right. Whenever she’d encountered

Varian in the past two weeks, he’d

given her a smile, which usually

calmed her slightly. Today, there was

no smile. In fact, his expression

mimicked his brother’s.

“Exactly what did you promise the

Prince

of

Mitherie?”

Vulcan

demanded as soon as she closed the

door.

Jaisyn started. Was that what the

messenger had conveyed? A response

from Tarbin of Mitherie? If that was

it, then Vulcan shouldn’t be so angry.

No doubt Tarbin had sent a

messenger to tell Jaisyn that he’d

received both of her messages and

that he understood. As Lytheria and

Mitherie had been allies for many

years, the St. Ives family had seen the

Kataral family at least once a year. As

Tarbin was the closet to her age,

Jaisyn had always felt more connected

to him than to his brothers.

“Your King asked you a question,”

Varian said tensely, and Jaisyn caught

sight of a part of Varian she’d never

seen before. She’d always thought

that they were opposites, but seeing

them as they were now, no one would

doubt that these two men were sired

by the same father.

Jaisyn’s eyes snapped fire at both of

them. “Nothing. I promised him

nothing.”

Vulcan’s chair flew backward as he

pushed himself up. “You are lying!”

“Then why ask, if you have no

intention of believing me?” She spat

the words at him, her golden eyes

clashing violently with the dark anger

of his gaze.

“Tarbin of Mitherie has sent you a

message,” Vulcan told her, snatching

up the parchment in his hand and

waving it before her face. “He has

accepted whatever you have promised

him! What—
and I will not ask you

again
—have you promised him?”

She had two choices: she could

explain or she could continue to lie.

Continuing to lie did seem so

appealing as she stared from Vulcan’s

simmering anger to Varian’s coiled

rage. Telling the truth might keep

Vulcan from killing her. Then again, it

might drive him to actually do it. She

sent up a prayer to Lyria before she

began speaking.

“I promised him Lytheria,” she

began, only to be cut off as the

brothers let out a simultaneous string

of curses that she neither understood,

nor wished to.

Vulcan was still cursing when

Varian asked in clipped-no-nonsense

tones, “And how would he get

Lytheria?”

Jaisyn licked her suddenly dry lips

and couldn’t help but wish she had

her sword nearby. She turned to

Vulcan and stared him right in the

eyes. “Through me.”

“You cannot promise something that

is not yours!” Vulcan roared, pacing

about his desk. Jaisyn wisely held her

tongue.

Lytheria

was

hers

by

birthright; it was his by brute strength.

She had more of a right to Lytheria

than he did.

“Through you?” Varian continued,

those pale eyes burning through her

skin. “You offered yourself to the

Prince of Mitherie?”

Those words brought Vulcan up

short as he pinned her with a glare. It

was then Jaisyn thought to continue

her explanation before they refused to

listen to reason.

“Yes—in

marriage—but

after

speaking to the High Priestess, I

withdrew the offer. I’m sure that

Tarbin received the message and will

send another message soon,” she said

quickly, sensing Vulcan was going to

interrupt again.

She wasn’t wrong.

Vulcan let out another stream of

curses before he advanced on her,

looking every inch the angry king that

he was. Since that day in the solar,

Vulcan hadn’t attempted to repeat his

actions. In fact, he’d been so busy

establishing himself as ruler to her

people that he’d hardly acknowledged

her. Now Jaisyn felt as she had when

he’d cornered her in the solar. Only

this time, she had no sword.

“Varian, OUT!” Vulcan roared and

although Jaisyn passed him her best

‘don’t leave’ glare, he shook his head

and hastily made his way to the door.

The expression on his face told her

that whatever happened with Vulcan,

she deserved it.

He kept advancing but this time,

Jaisyn held her ground. Vulcan was

much bigger and outweighed her at

least two to one with all the solid

muscle covering his frame, but she

wasn’t going to let him see how much

he terrified her. He came to a halt

directly before her, and leaned down

so close that she could feel his breath

fan her face. She realized her eyes

had closed; she peeled them open

quickly. His eyes were merely inches

from her own, and although it was a

bad time to recognize it, she noticed

that those eyes, which she’d always

thought were as black as she imagined

his heart, were actually a very dark

shade of grey.

“You offered my kingdom to a

prince of Mitherie and you offered

yourself as his means of getting it!”

Vulcan’s voice was low and harsh,

and he was so close to her that even if

he whispered, she’d be able to hear.

“Like a common whore, you would

barter away my kingdom! No,

Princess
—DO NOT SPEAK!”

Jaisyn glared at him as she seethed.

He would not compare her to a

common whore. She was a chaste

princess whose first kiss had been

stolen by this—this monster! The urge

to fight rose within her.

“I am no whore!” she hissed angrily.

His jaw clenched tightly as she

openly defied him, but instead of

reaching out and striking her, as she

half expected him to, he simply

continued.

“Mitherie

will

never

control Lytheria.”

He took a step back from her, and

she noticed that his eyes had flashed

from fire to ice. Wet stone. That was

what his eyes reminded her of.

“Find the High Priestess and prepare

Mathilda,” he began in a voice that

sent chills shooting through her body.

“No Mitherie prince will challenge my

right to Lytheria with one of its

princesses as my bride.”

Before Jaisyn could put up an

argument, he stormed away. Shaken

to her core, a lone leaf battered by the

course

of

a

whirlwind,

Jaisyn

remained standing as she was for a

few minutes before she forced her

body into action.

As she ran into the hall, Jaisyn

looked around wildly. Where was he?

She saw Vulcan’s towering body

briefly amongst the servants and

soldiers in the castle before he

disappeared from her sight as he

headed up the staircase. No doubt he

was off to the solar. Or were his long

strides taking him to Mathilda’s

chambers?

Feeling her legs move, Jaisyn raced

after him, trying to come up with

reasons why he couldn’t marry

Mathilda. She was too young. She

was sickly. She was given to bouts of

anger. She was childish and churlish

and at times selfish. She was—she

was
Matty!

When she reached the bottom step,

she spotted him at the top of the

staircase that led to the solar. She

quickly moved up the stairs behind

him. She paused before his door and

tried to think up a good argument.

Deciding she didn’t have the time to

do so, Jaisyn knocked rapidly and

pushed the door open.

***

To say that Vulcan was in a foul

mood was an understatement. He

could no longer return to Morden as

soon as he’d planned because of a

troublesome princess by the name of

Jaisyn St. Ives. In addition to that, he

could no longer return to Morden a

free man, because that very same

princess had made it necessary, once

more, for him to marry Mathilda the

Timid.

After

Jaisyn’s

costly

resistance, Vulcan had had no

intention of marrying any of the

princesses. He’d given his word of

protection to Wilhelm, and that could

be carried out with them as his wards.

Of course, he did not have to marry

anyone, but because Lytheria was

newly acquired and Jaisyn always

scheming, he was going to make sure

he secured his rule in two different

ways: he’d won Lytheria in battle and

he’d married into the St. Ives family.

It really should not have been this

complicated, but for—

There was a rapid knock at his door

moments before it pushed open.

Knowing most of his people knew

better than to walk in without being

invited, Vulcan reached for his sword

and turned to face the intruder.

He should have known it was her.

Somewhere deep in his mind, he had.

***

Jaisyn stared at the pointed tip of the

sword for a few moments before she

pushed the door in, careful not to

close it, and waited for him to put the

weapon away.

“What business do you have here?”

Vulcan demanded, the sword still

leveled in her direction.

“Sheath your sword and I will tell

you.”

Reluctantly, he angled his sword so

it no longer pointed to her, and

quirked an angry brow.

“You cannot marry Mathilda,”

Jaisyn began, only to have him release

an incredulous snort. She ignored it