Warrior (59 page)

gallantly,

and

approached Jaisyn. From the side of

her eye, she saw Vulcan tense, and

the guards who stood at both their

sides, seemed to tense as well.

When he was no more than a few

feet away for her, he bowed again.

“Your Majesty is more beautiful

than even the cresting waterfalls of my

kingdom,” he praised softly, flashing a

deep, dimpled smile.

Jaisyn found herself returning the

smile, even as her husband scowled

viciously.

“You are kind, Bael of Montak,”

she

returned

comfortably.

With

another bow, he moved past her, but

not before he caught sight of Vulcan’s

angry scowl. He smiled at his king

then.

And so the evening continued, with

Jaisyn wondering when, and if, the

musicians hired for the night would

play some lively tunes. After hours of

sitting and smiling and doing naught

else, the musicians were notified it

was their time to play and Jaisyn

resisted the urge to breathe a sigh of

relief.

Vulcan stood and moved to stand

before his wife. He had been dressed

fitting the occasion, in a black and red

tight-fitting jacket that hugged his

thickly corded arms, a pristine white

cravat that had been intricately tied,

and black breeches, with two parallel

red lines running down either side,

that fell to his knees. On his feet were

shiny, black leather shoes in place of

his usual weathered boots. He offered

Jaisyn his hand. His eyes seemed

belligerent as he stared down at her.

She almost smiled. Did he think she

would refuse to dance with him now?

She placed her hand in his and he

led her to the middle of the ballroom.

The musicians opened with a waltz,

for the married couples, and after the

first few minutes, once Vulcan gave a

nod, they were joined on the floor by

most of their guests.

“Did you find Bael handsome?”

Vulcan suddenly asked, and Jaisyn

barely caught herself before she

tripped over her feet and stumbled.

She stared up at her husband in

confusion. “He is very handsome,

liege.” She was not lying. Bael was

nowhere near as handsome as

husband in her eyes but he was

beautifully formed, with dark brown

hair and roguishly good looks, and

there was a devilish twinkle in leaf-

colored eyes that would capture the

attention of both the wed and unwed

females in the vicinity.

“Is that so?” Vulcan returned, and

she noticed that his voice had dropped

dangerously.

Jaisyn nodded, and lowered her

head slightly to hide a satisfied smile.

He took a mistress right under her

nose and was now jealous because

she found another man attractive?

“Do you think him more handsome

than Varian?” The question threw her

so badly that all she could do was

continue to stare at him in confusion.

A lethal smile suddenly touched his

lips as he spun her. “Do you, wife?”

Licking her lips and wondering at

the

question,

Jaisyn

answered

truthfully, “No, I find your brother

more attractive.”

He nodded as if he too had thought

so and his eyes panned the room.

“But he is close in terms of appeal?”

Jaisyn nodded. Vulcan’s questions

were very odd. “Why do you ask,

liege?”

A muscle jumped in his jaw and he

hissed, “Must you call me ‘liege’?

Have I not given you permission to

call me by name?”

“Yes, liege, but I do not wish to call

your name.” This was said with a

bright smile, which only served to

infuriate her husband more. The waltz

came to an end and they pulled apart

and clapped softly before he returned

her to her seat, and sat beside her.

She’d been told by Lady Mor’an that

she was only allowed to dance the

first and last dance. Another rule of

this court. She did not know if she

could do this
Season
more than one

time.

“Will you tell me why you are so

interested in how attractive I find the

King of Montak?” she asked softly.

Vulcan did not spare her a glance.

“No.”

Jaisyn bristled but she continued to

smile, even when Lady Calista,

dressed in that stunning lavender

gown, approached them, trailing

behind Lady Mor’an, who was

outfitted in her usual black, and wore

accompanying black pearls at her

neck.

They both curtsied before Lady

Mor’an stepped close to Jaisyn and

began to speak with her about how

wonderful it had turned out. She

watched at the side of her eye and

saw that Lady Calista had stepped

forward too. She heard her husband

compliment Calista on her dress and

Jaisyn felt her patience snap. How

dare he? Had he no type of respect

for her, the woman who would soon

bear his child?

She turned to Lady Calista, glaring

—for what she was doing could not

be called staring—at the young

woman. “Ah, Lady Calista. The dress

does fit her quite well, does it not, my

liege?” As she’d expected, Vulcan did

not answer, so she continued. “Have

you found a charming suitor in this

crowd as yet?”

Calista’s smile froze but then as she

looked at Jaisyn, her lips widened

again.

She shook her head of flowing black

curls, executed a graceful curtsy, and

replied, “Not as yet, Your Majesty.”

“I am sure that it is not for lack of

options. Perhaps you are saving your

affection for someone in particular?”

Lady Calista’s eyes unconsciously

drifted to Vulcan, who was staring at

Jaisyn

in

something

akin

to

fascination. Jaisyn’s eyes never left

Calista and she saw the look of

longing in the girl’s eyes. Her temper

flared even more but before she could

say something that would lead to

Calista’s banishment from court, Lady

Mor’an cleared her throat, and spoke

in a tone meant to put everyone at

ease.

“I do believe, Your Majesty, that

Lady Calista is trying to capture the

heart

of

every
unwed
man here

tonight. Is that not so, my dear?”

Calista nodded in agreement. Her

smile had disappeared completely and

she was now staring wide-eyed at

Jaisyn. Lady Mor’an took a few steps

back. Her eyes remained on Jaisyn,

whose eyes never left Calista, and she

curtsied. Calista followed suit and did

the same before they both turned and

retreated hastily.

Jaisyn’s gaze followed Calista until

she could see her no more. She

blinked, passed a quick glance at her

husband, and went back to smiling at

her guests.

Moments passed in silence before

Vulcan spoke. “You are jealous,

wife.”

She did not reply because she could

not say what she wished. She was

jealous and angry. Her husband had

just practically flaunted his mistress by

acknowledging

her

with

that

compliment.

“You have no right to be jealous

when it is you who suggested that I

take the lady to my bed.” He had

leaned closer to her. Jaisyn didn’t

reply, but splotches of angry red

stained her cheeks. The smile was all

but forgotten. He was admitting to it.

He was telling her he’d taken her as a

m is t r e s s .
Calista
.

She’d

always

maintained there was a slight chance

he hadn’t, but she was now certain.

She’d been right. Jaisyn did not know

how long she churned that over in her

mind but suddenly, it grew quiet and

Vulcan stood.

He beckoned her sisters over, as

they’d known he would, and they

came obediently. Jaisyn remained

seated. When the princesses were at

the appropriate place, the page said

loudly, “Princess Isolde and Princess

Mathilda St. Ives, wards to the High

King of the North, and sisters to the

Queen Jaisyn of Morden.”

They both curtsied and approached

Vulcan and Jaisyn. Isolde stood

before Jaisyn and smiled at her sister,

and made no move to look at Vulcan.

Jaisyn felt a smile tug at her lips.

“My

wards,”

Vulcan’s

voice

boomed. “Princess Mathilda St. Ives.”

He gestured to Mathilda, who kept

her head lowered. “Princess Isolde

St.Ives.” He gestured to Isolde, who

glared at him, before reluctantly

lowering her head. “Treat them as

you would me. Any praise you give

them, you give me. Any insult heaped

upon their persons will be taken as

insult to me. Any attack will be a

direct attack to me. From now until

their deaths, these princesses are

under my protection.”

Vulcan sat and her sisters moved

away. The music began once more.

***

Bael surveyed the lot of Morden

nobility in the ballroom and checked

the urge to scowl. He reminded

himself that he was only in Morden

because he’d received an order to

come, compliments of the power-

hungry king who sat next to the

astonishingly beautiful queen. He did

not like that Montak was controlled by

Vulcan, and if he had the armies, he

would have fought the king for the

right to secede years ago. But alas, his

father had depleted the grand wealth

that Montak had once had, and by the

time he’d inherited, after his father

died fighting against Morden, he’d had

no choice but to bow down in

submission. And so, years later, here

he was. At the beck and call of the

dark-haired,

grey-eyed

warrior,

dubbed most fittingly the Wolf.

He looked around the room again,

deciding that if he had to spend

another minute here, he’d find some

company of the female variety. And

hopefully, the company would be

married or widowed. He was not fit to

deal

with

simpering

innocents.

Especially

simpering

Morden

innocents, who would no doubt try to

force his hand. He was searching out

a woman who would provide the type

of company he required when his

eyes caught sight of a brilliant shade

of red. Short, red curls? That caught

his attention for two different reasons:

most

women

in

the

Northern

kingdoms wore their hair long, far

past the middle of their backs, and

most Northern women did not have

that coloring. Three women and a gale

of aristocrats, who were all laughing

at something she’d said, surrounded

her. A lady, a chestnut beauty,

suddenly passed before him, smiling

boldly. She would do…but his eyes

went back to the redhead.

Bael found himself heading in her

direction. With an arrogance shown

only by one sure of his station, he

moved through the throng of men and

approached her. Her laugh stopped

and she smiled curiously at him.

“I am Bael of Montak.” He took her

hand and bowed over it, not caring

that his introduction was in no way

formal. She stared at him at a loss

before withdrawing her hand, and

lowering her body into a curtsy.

“Princess Isolde of Lytheria.” She

indicated the shorter woman next to

her, whom she introduced as Princess

Mathilda of Lytheria, and the other

ladies, Lady Jane and Lady Anne.

But Bael wasn’t really listening. The

princesses of Lytheria were wards of

Vulcan Mor’an. He looked toward the

dais and found the king staring in his

direction. A thought entered his mind,