Warrior (55 page)

were two lady’s maids. They would

return to Lytheria with Isolde and

Mathilda, but had been selected to

accompany the queen on the journey

to Morden. They seemed afraid to

engage in discourse with her, but were

helpful otherwise.

During the twelve days of traveling,

Vulcan rode ahead of the carriage,

only speaking to Jaisyn when it was

absolutely necessary. When they

stopped for the day and sought shelter

with a land baron or a titled lord along

the way, Vulcan would introduce her

and would usually say pleasantries to

her at supper. They’d only shared the

same room once on their journey, and

for all of the conversing they did, it

seemed like they were in separate

quarters. Jaisyn was tired of it all. She

was tired of seeing her husband, of

seeing his warriors, of traveling and

sleeping in different places each night.

She looked forward to seeing her

sisters, her ladies, and her maids. And

to hearing the idle gossip that would

keep her from thinking of Vulcan.

And soon, she would be able to do

just that.

Lifting her eyes from the snow, she

allowed her eyes to take in the outline

of the castle ahead. In no more than

an hour, she would be back in

Morden Castle, and in no more than

that time, she would see her sisters.

***

Vulcan

remained

seated

atop

Shadowfax as the carriage bearing his

wife finally came to a halt beside him.

One of the servants immediately

rushed forward and placed a stool on

the ground before the door, and

opened it slowly. She stepped from

the carriage, holding the servant’s arm

as she descended gracefully. A warm

fur coat draped around her shoulders

and seemed to flow to her ankles,

hiding well the gown she wore

beneath. Her eyes searched him out

and when they landed upon him, she

looked

away

purposely

before

walking into the castle.

The carriage moved away and

Vulcan noticed that his squire was

waiting patiently beside him. He came

down from Shadowfax, patting the

stallion’s neck, before handing the

reins to his squire. That done, he

entered the castle, wondering how

long it would be before his control

snapped and he visited his wife’s

chambers,

especially

as

those

chambers were attached to his. He

was still upset with her. That she

would risk her life, and the life of his

heir, to free a man who’d condemned

himself, still filled him with disbelief.

Two weeks had done little to appease

his anger with her, but anger and

desire were two different emotions

and his desire for her seemed to

overtake any other emotions in its

path.

He surveyed the castle’s entrance

for Acton, but seeing only bustling

servants and newly returned warriors,

he headed in the direction of his

study. He had been gone for many

weeks and he needed to be updated

on any new events that had occurred

in that time. As his father had told

him, a kingdom was a fickle thing.

One day a king, the next a slave. It

was why he was so involved with the

affairs of his kingdom. He’d taken his

father’s words to heart.

***

Jaisyn had barely entered her

chambers before she was enveloped in

warm arms. She returned the hug

when she recognized the familiar mop

of golden curls so similar to her own.

Mathilda
. Her eyes surveyed the

room, which was filled with her

friends, her maids, and Isolde, who

stood right behind Mathilda. Upon her

head was a patterned red scarf, which

hid her hair. Jaisyn knew immediately

why it was there. Dax had cut her

sister’s hair, probably very close to

her scalp, from the long locks that

she’d seen. She stared at Isolde for a

while but Mathilda was speaking again

so she tried to focus.

“I missed you, Jassy,” Mathilda

said, between little sobs. “I thought

those vile people had done something

to you. I’m sorry for getting you into

this.”

Forehead crinkling, Jaisyn looked

down at Mathilda, whose head was

planted firmly against her bosom,

before lifting a brow to Isolde, who

shrugged her shoulders and shook her

head.

“You didn’t get me into this,

Matty,” Jaisyn assured her little sister,

wondering what on Earth she meant.

“But I have certainly missed you.

How has the beautiful Flower of the

East been?”

At hearing that title, Mathilda

perked up. She lifted tear-filled golden

eyes and smiled slightly, stepping from

Jaisyn. “So you don’t blame me?”

Her tanned arms indicated everything

around her and it was then that Jaisyn

began to understand. Mathilda thought

herself the reason for Jaisyn’s

marriage to Vulcan, and therefore, the

reason for everything else that had

transpired after.

Jaisyn shook her head and smiled at

Mathilda. “No, Matty. Of course not.

I love you.” That was the truth. She’d

never blamed Mathilda for her

marriage to Vulcan. She did blame

Ishat and her father for the trickery

they used to get her into it, but as she

was being held by Dax and Kegan,

she’d come to understand that they’d

had the interest of the kingdom at

heart. Had she been unwed when Dax

and Kegan thought up their ingenious

plan, they would have succeeded. Her

twisted cousin would have either killed

her and her sisters, or married one of

them to ensure his succession to the

throne. She shuddered, thanking Lyria

for the strength she’d received to do

as she’d done. One less Kegan in the

world was a blessing.

Her thoughts were brought back to

the present and her chambers when

Isolde stepped forward and hugged

her, resting her cheek against Jaisyn’s

shoulder. Jaisyn returned the caress,

wondering what Isolde had gone

through at the hands of that monster

who called himself Dax.

“Are you all right?” she asked

softly, pulling her head back slightly to

see the green of Isolde’s eyes.

Her sister sighed and nodded,

smiling. “Yes. I am. Are you?”

Jaisyn stared at Isolde’s face for a

long time, knowing that she was not

telling her everything. Of course she

wouldn’t. The place was crowded.

She smiled and nodded. “We will

speak later?”

Isolde nodded and stepped away.

Magda was the next to take her in her

arms. She rocked her slowly, telling

her that it was all right now that she

was back with them. Jaisyn couldn’t

help the smile that appeared on her

lips. Magda was treating her like she

was eight once more, but she didn’t

mind. Asha next stepped forward, and

curtsied politely. She was apologetic

until Jaisyn held up her hand and

shook her head.

“You have nothing to apologize for,

Asha. You had no choice,” she told

the woman firmly, remembering the

dagger that Dax had held to her throat

to make her drink. She nodded, but

her eyes remained downcast.

Lady Jane and Lady Anne stepped

forward next. They curtsied to her as

well and expressed their gratitude that

she’d returned. After that formality,

Anne walked up to her and threw her

arms around her. Jane was too much

of a lady to do anything like that, but

she did smile lightly at her younger

friend.

“We have missed Your Majesty,

very much,” Anne said, stepping away

from Jaisyn and smiling happily. Her

lips straightened once more. “The

Dowager Queen, Lady Mor’an, and

her niece, have recently come to the

castle as well. Lady Mor’an can be

quite…demanding.”

Lady Jane coughed discreetly and

Anne

blinked

innocently.

Jaisyn

chuckled and proceeded to walk

further into the room. Vulcan’s

stepmother was in the castle? Her ears

perked up at hearing that. Perhaps

after meeting the only woman he’d

ever remembered as a mother, she

might understand a bit more about

Vulcan.

“I am sure that you will tell me all

about her, Anne,” she said, standing

still as Asha began to work at the tight

coils that kept her warm coat closed.

***

Vulcan listened as his general filled

him in on the events that had taken

place in the past month. Montak had

recently had a minor skirmish with

one of its neighboring kingdoms, one

that was under Vulcan’s control as

well. Vulcan shook his head and

contemplated briefly removing Bael

from the position of king. No matter

how badly he wanted to, he could not

do so yet. Bael had yet to actually

rebel against Vulcan’s oversight, but

he sensed that given time, the young

king would. Sighing, he ordered his

general to continue his report, placing

Bael in the back of his mind for the

time being.

When he was finished, he sent for

his steward to report the affairs of the

castle. Malon Vernon had been a

scholar before he became the castle

steward under King Frederick. He had

done a particularly efficient job over

the years and for that Vulcan had

retained him. The man was now in his

late sixties, but just as efficient as

ever. Vernon ranted off a list of things

that had been done to the castle,

various purchases that had been made

in his absence, discussions with the

accountants that the castle employed,

and preparations that were being

made for the upcoming court season.

After hearing enough, Vulcan held up

his hand and dismissed the man.

Vernon was at the door before he

returned and cleared his throat.

Looking up from the papers on his

desk, Vulcan lifted a brow.

“The Dowager Queen arrived at the

castle about a week ago, sire. She

brought with her, her niece, the Lady

Calista Dakar, as well as two of her

ladies, and maids. She has been

placed in the North Tower, Majesty.”

His

eyes

crinkling

at

that

information. Vulcan swallowed, and

nodded. “Did she give any reasons for

coming?”

If Vernon found the question most

unorthodox, a king asking why his

stepmother had decided to come to his

home, he did not show it. Dipping his

head, he offered reply. “She did not,

Majesty, although I believe she intends

to see out the court season at the

castle.”

“You are no doubt right, Vernon,”

Vulcan grumbled, dismissing the man

with a wave of his hand. He stared at

the door as it shut, thinking of his

stepmother. She was supposed to visit

Jaisyn months ago, but had said that

she was ill. He had not pursued it,

deciding she would show up in her

own time.

Lydia had been the daughter of

Alfric Dakar, one of the mountain

chieftains who ruled a large segment

of the rocky plains of Morden under

Frederick. Despite the fact that

Frederick

was

their

liege,

the

chieftains were unlike the nobility in

that they followed their own tribal

rules.

After the death of his wife,

Frederick, along with his warriors,

had gone to the mountains to insist

that the chieftains swear fealty to his

rule, as they had not done so in years.

He’d been gone for months and when

next he returned, he returned with a

wife so beautiful, she had been the

envy of all of the Morden women.

Gracefully formed, with icily beautiful