Warrior (64 page)

was twirling her younger sister

around. Mathilda looked breathtaking

in the blue-green ball gown. Her hair

had been pulled away from her face

and pinned such that her curls ran

down her back. For the first time,

Jaisyn recognized that her sister

looked…mature. She’d thought of

Mathilda as beautiful, charming, and

childish, but never mature. The large

and open smile that usually graced her

face was no longer there. In fact, the

expression on her face was secretive,

even

aloof.

Continuing

her

observation, Jaisyn noticed that her

sister smiled softly every now and

again, and that the young man dancing

with her smiled at those times as well.

It was as if she were giving him a cue.

Was her sister flirting?

“What do you think of Bael and

Isolde?” Vulcan suddenly asked from

beside her. Jaisyn blinked and turned

to him. Her brows lifted. Whatever

was her husband referring to? He

indicated a couple dancing to their left

and Jaisyn turned in that direction.

She first caught sight of his sister’s

bouncing red hair. In the months and

weeks since Isolde had been at the

castle, her hair had grown to her

shoulder blades. She no longer wore

the cap atop her head, and could

usually be caught running her fingers

through her locks. Jaisyn smiled. She

knew that Isolde’s attachment to her

hair was not out of vanity. She was

happy something that had been taken

from her was coming back.

Isolde turned suddenly and Jaisyn

saw a large grin upon her face, and

upon the face of her partner. Bael

shook his chestnut head at something

she said, but he too was smiling down

at her sister.

Jaisyn turned to look at Vulcan

suspiciously, her mind reeling with

thoughts. “What does that mean,

Vulcan?”

“I intend to give Isolde to Bael.”

Jaisyn shook her head, already

dreading the answer to her next

question. “As what?”

Vulcan glared at her. “As his wife,

of course.” He saw her visibly relax

and take a few deep breaths.

“Have you spoken to Isolde?”

“Not yet.”

“Bael?” she continued, looking back

to where they were dancing, quite

happily.

“Bael knows.”

She shook her head and turned

away from him without another word.

After she’d been quiet for many

minutes, Vulcan leaned closer to her,

his voice rank with amusement, “Have

I angered you to the point of silence,

wife?”

Jaisyn did not answer. She wasn’t

angry. She was furious. This was

exactly what she’d meant when she’d

asked Vulcan to change the Morden

laws. Men—
these
men—didn’t see

women on any kind of footing with

me n.
Equal
was too big a word in

their vocabularies. Her husband had

told Bael of his intentions, but Isolde,

her sister, was entirely unaware. She

would be notified only after the

betrothal was drafted, and signed.

She was so busy stewing in her own

anger and frustration at her husband

that she didn’t hear the hush that

descended upon nobles gathered.

Feeling her husband tense beside her,

she turned to glare at him, but noticed

his eyes were fixed on something

before them. She turned to look and a

genuine, if startled, smile appeared on

her lips.

Varian was heading toward them,

his strides long and filled with

purpose, his face relaxed, with an

easy smile on his lips. He was dressed

for the court and made quite a picture

in the finery he wore. Unlike his

brother, Varian appeared at home at

court. His hair had been swept back

from

his

face,

leaving

his

handsomeness completely on display

for the females in the ballroom. His

cravat was dainty white and tucked

neatly into the dark and snug jacket he

wore. His breeches were close fitting

as well, revealing muscular thighs and

strong calves.

Jaisyn’s eyes moved from him to

Lady Lydia and she saw that the

woman was staring after Varian with

a deep smile on her face. It was the

proud look of a mother. She returned

her gaze to Varian, who had stopped,

and was now bowing to the waist, as

if he did it daily. There was no

stiffness,

no

awkward

hand

movement.

“Majesties,” he murmured, moving

closer until he was but feet from

Vulcan.

“Why are you here, Varian?”

Vulcan demanded immediately and

Jaisyn tossed him a furious glare. He

hadn’t seen his brother in months and

that was the way he intended to greet

him?

Varian didn’t react as she did.

Instead, he bowed his head. “I

received your missive and thought to

answer it in person.”

Eyes narrowing, lips tightening and

face reddening, Vulcan asked, “And

what is your answer?”

Jaisyn looked anxiously between the

two men, wondering it was her

husband was referring to.

Varian’s smile was catchy as he

replied. “My answer is yes.” He

paused and stared down at his

brother. In the next blink, his

expression changed. Gone was the

smiling,

easy-going

royal

who’d

walked into the ballroom, and in his

place was an angry and menacing

personality. Jaisyn’s eyes widened but

Vulcan merely arched a brow, as if

he’d expected it. “Did you expect

another answer, brother?” His eyes

flashed angrily and Jaisyn noticed that

his hands were clenched into fists at

his sides. She turned to look at

Vulcan, whose eyes had never left his

brother.

“I expected you to do your duty to

the Crown,” Vulcan replied, waving

his hand in dismissal. “But I now see

that I was wrong.”

Varian did not bow again as he

walked away. Jaisyn’s eyes followed

him as a path opened before him and

he

headed

purposefully

toward

someone. She looked at Vulcan in

confusion but he was staring after

Varian as well, his jaw locking

angrily.

“Where is he going, Vulcan?” The

question was asked softly, but she was

sure her husband heard it.

He chose not to respond. Jaisyn

soon found out.

***

Bael felt the hairs on the back of his

neck rise, and abruptly lifted his head.

The dance had finished, and he had

been making light conversation with

the woman who would soon be his.

Isolde St. Ives. When Vulcan’s

missive had first arrived, he’d raged

against the king, had cursed every cell

in Vulcan’s body, but then he’d

thought it through and had come to

recognize that this was probably the

first thing Vulcan was going to do that

he wouldn’t really mind. Vulcan

thought that by tying Isolde to him, he

would make an alliance. Of course, he

was wrong. He couldn’t be more

wrong, but he wasn’t going to let the

High King know that. Bael wanted

Isolde of Lytheria, she was stunning,

and if the only way to get her was

through marriage, then so be it.

When his gaze lifted from Isolde’s

sparkling green eyes, he froze.

Standing feet behind Isolde was a tall

man with multi-colored hair, and a

smile that was more frightening than

his scowl: Varian Mor’an. Bael had

seen the king’s brother fight once and

had been sorry for the soldier who’d

died at the point of his sword. He did

not wear a sword at the moment, but

Bael knew that he did not need one to

do injury. Not that Bael was afraid of

Varian in any way, he just respected

that the king’s brother was a worthy

opponent on the battlefield.

Isolde must have seen and felt him

tense at whatever was at her back for

she turned away from him. He heard

a soft gasp escape her lips.

“Varian?”

Bael frowned at the fact that she

said his name, and the familiarity with

which it was used. A lady of Isolde’s

standing should not be on such

familiar terms with Varian Mor’an.

She hadn’t called him “milord” or

“Prince Varian”, but just “Varian.”

And she sounded like a woman whose

lover had returned after years of war.

Isolde said his name as if she didn’t

believe he could be here, but wished

her eyes weren’t lying.

Varian’s gaze left Bael’s and looked

down to her. Taking her hand, he

brought it to his lips, placed a lingering

kiss on the back, and bowed over it.

Isolde flushed, but did not remove

her hand.

The music started once more and in

a practiced way, Varian swept her

onto the floor.

Bael was left staring after them, his

eyes darkening in anger.

***

At first, Isolde was so surprised and

happy to see Varian that she didn’t

hear the music swirling about her. She

just followed and he led, beautifully at

that. The man was a master at the

waltz.

Then the notes of the music came,

louder than her own heartbeat. Her

eyes bulged. She couldn’t dance the

waltz and she couldn’t dance the

waltz with an unmarried man who

was not related to her by blood. Her

eyes skimmed the people standing

around the dance floor, and noticed

that the majority of their eyes were

fixed upon her and her partner.

“Relax.”

Varian’s

voice

was

soothing and the hand at her back

tightened slightly, pulling her closer to

him. She tensed even more.

“I’m not supposed to dance the

waltz,” she told him rapidly, and

waited for them to spin around before

continuing, “It is not proper, Varian.”

He shook his head and replied

evenly. “Do not worry. All will be

right.”

She stared into the blue of his eyes

and relaxed, ignoring the looks that

came their way. Her gaze remained

on his face for the rest of the dance.

Isolde couldn’t help but wonder if

she’d ever seen a man as handsome

as he.

***

Keeping her scowl at bay was the

hardest thing Lydia Mor’an did that

evening. Why was her beloved son

dancing with the queen’s, red-haired

sister? Did he not know what it

implied? She turned to the left and

looked for her niece. Calista was

standing with Bael, and from the light

touches and laughter in Calista’s eyes,

she knew that the girl was doing

exactly as she’d told her.

Her eyes went back to her son and

Isolde. She shook her head and

focused on Varian. A smile formed on

her lips as she surveyed him. He had

inherited her looks. He looked nothing

like Frederick or Vulcan. And like

her, Varian was quick of mind. She

needed everything to work out this

night, for if it did, Varian would soon

be sitting on the Morden throne. A

Dakar would be the High King of the

North. Her smile widened and she

longed to run her hands along her

son’s hair, as she had done countless

times in the past.

***

“Do not think to come to my bed,

tonight, Vulcan,” Jaisyn said with a

brittle smile as the last dance of the

night ended. She was in her husband’s

arms,

and

she

wished

herself

anywhere but. She was upset with

him for numerous reasons that she

was too tired to recount this night.

Vulcan did not immediately release

her. “I will come to your bed

whenever I wish, Jaisyn. You are my

wife.”

She shook her head and replied

softly. “You will not come to my bed