Warrior (67 page)

was sure to give.

“Varian, you are young and a

prince! There is no need to rush into

marriage. You will always have

women who wish to take you unto

husband—”

“I have made up my mind, Mother. I

will have Isolde for my wife.” His

voice had dropped and the gentle tone

he’d used had disappeared. He

offered no room for argument.

Sighing and shaking her head, Lydia

approached him and laid her hand

against the top of his head. She began

to slowly push his hair away from his

face, something she’d enjoyed doing

when he was younger, before a little

smile touched her lips.

“Isolde is but eighteen, my son, and

a

Lytherian

woman.”

Lydia

backtracked when that earned her a

glare. “What I am saying is that Isolde

may grow older, only to realize that

you are not what she wanted in life.

She is still young, and accustomed to

the ways of her kingdom.” She

dropped her voice and moved away,

giving him her back. “She may grow

to hate you for trapping her into

marriage.”

Varian stared at his mother and

thought of that. Isolde was eighteen,

and most women were married by the

time they turned that age. Still, she

was an innocent, quite inexperienced

in the ways of men and women.

Would she grow to hate him for

trapping her, as his mother foresaw?

He shook his head, but a lingering

feeling of doubt remained.

“Varian, will you not wait? A few

months, perhaps? Even a year? If in

that time she still feels as she does

now for you and you for her, I will

gladly give you my blessing.”

“As always, I cherish your opinion,

Mother,” Varian replied vaguely,

giving her one of his charming grins.

She laughed and like a giddy young

girl, rushed over to her bed, where she

took a seat at the edge, and clasped

her hands together. “So tell me, what

is it like being ruler of Lytheria?”

He barely kept the smirk from his

face. Lydia was always curious to

know how he fared when he was the

leader of—anything, whether it be his

role in Vulcan’s army or as Vulcan’s

messenger.

Shaking his head, Varian replied, “I

am not the ruler of Lytheria, Mother. I

serve in my brother’s stead.”

Nodding, Lydia waved her hand in

dismissal. “So tell me. What has it

been like, Varian? I’m sure it comes

naturally to you.”

Even as Varian shook his head, he

began to speak. His mother loved him,

and sought to know any and every

aspect of his life. He would answer

her questions, but also reaffirm that he

ruled for Vulcan. Sometimes, Lydia

seemed to forget that.

***

Vulcan was finding his wife’s

actions most…odd. She’d awoken

early in the morning, before the sun

had risen, and ordered a bath. He’d

remained abed, watching as she sat in

the tub of water and stared ahead.

Something was obviously occupying

her thoughts. When he’d asked her,

she’d started as if she’d forgotten he

was in her bed, and stepped from the

tub, drying herself off quickly. And

over the course of the day, she

practically tip-toed around him, which

was unlike her. She usually sought

him out at least twice during the day

but he had not seen her since early

this morning. When he’d trained with

his warriors, he’d looked about to see

if she was standing at a safe distance

watching them. She was not there

either. Strange.

So as he sat behind his desk, unable

to concentrate on anything save his

wife’s behavior, he remembered that

she’d mentioned Lydia last night but

hadn’t wished to follow up on it. Had

Lydia said something to offend his

wife? Was that why Jaisyn acted so

strangely?

Needing answers, he sent for his

stepmother. If Jaisyn wouldn’t tell him

what happened, then the Dowager

Queen would.

Lydia entered his study minutes

after, and curtsied to him.

“You sent for me, Majesty?” she

asked, standing before him with her

hands clasped together.

“You may sit,” he told her,

watching as she folded herself primly

into the carved chair, arranging her

dress as she did so.

“What did you discuss with my wife

last night?” He’d called Lydia here for

one reason, and he saw no need to

ease into it when he could outright ask

the question.

Lydia blinked rapidly and laughed in

a confused manner. “I apologize, my

liege. I am confused.”

“Jaisyn told me she was with you

last night,” he replied calmly, staring

into his stepmother’s wide blue eyes.

“Oh,” she nodded, clearing her

throat. “It was but a ten minute walk

before I took to my bed. I wished to

congratulate her on a Season well

held.”

Lydia suddenly turned her head to

the side. “Did she say anything else?”

Vulcan’s

eyes

narrowed

dangerously and he replied softly, “Is

there something she should have told

me?”

She looked down at her lap and

began fussing with her skirts. Another

important part of her carefully laid

plan was about to be divulged. “I do

not think it important, liege, but before

I went to bed, Bael approached us.

The queen continued her walk with

him.”

“Bael?” On Vulcan’s lips, the words

sounded like a curse.

Lydia nodded and looked up at him,

beaming brightly once more. “I am

sure he escorted her back to her

room. It was quite innocent. Any

gentleman would do as he did,

Vulcan.”

“Thank you, Lydia. You may

leave.”

***

“Bring Bael of Montak before me.

Immediately.”

Vulcan stood and began to pace.

Jaisyn had mentioned nothing of Bael

when

he’d

asked

about

her

whereabouts last night. Why would

she not mention him unless she were

hiding something? He saw red as he

thought of that. If Jaisyn was hiding

something concerning Bael, he had no

doubt it had something to do with

intimacy. Had Bael attempted to kiss

her? Or touch her inappropriately? A

growl escaped his lips and he looked

back to the door. His eyes fell to the

sword at his side and he began pacing

once more.

The sound of the door opening had

Vulcan moving over to the entrance.

The soldier he’d sent after Bael

stepped back into the study and

bowed.

“Bael of Montak left this morning,

sire.”

“He
what
?” Vulcan’s voice was like

a whiplash: quick, precise and hard.

The soldier blanched but repeated

what he said. Vulcan waved a hand,

dismissing the man. His blood boiled.

Bael was hardheaded but he wasn’t

stupid. At least, Vulcan had never

pegged him as such. Leaving without

the permission of one’s overlord

ranked high on the lists of stupid

things a vassal could do. Bael had

been to court numerous times, and not

once had he departed without taking

his leave.

Vulcan’s nostrils flared angrily. Bael

was running. Why would he run

unless he was guilty? His mind began

to piece together the information that

Lydia had given and the quick

departure of the Montak king.

“Abakar!” he roared and the soldier

pushed the door open and ran inside,

his sword drawn. Seeing no danger,

he lowered the tip to the ground.

“Have someone fetch my wife!”

Abakar took a look at his king’s face

and hastily went about doing as he

asked.

***

Jaisyn had spoken to Lydia early in

the morning and the news she’d

received had done little to calm her

mind. In fact, she’d been told they’d

met Bael along the way and he’d

offered to escort her back to her

room. She ran a hand through her hair

and closed her eyes. She did not

remember seeing Bael until she awoke

in his bed. Slapping her hand against

her forehead, she sighed in frustration

and stood, then walked to her

window. It would soon be time for

supper and she would have to sit

opposite Vulcan, have to watch as he

lifted curious brows in her direction.

She moved back to her bed, holding

her extended belly under the material

of the gown, as she sat down. She

didn’t want to tell her husband that

she’d awoken in another man’s arms,

that she hadn’t known how she’d

gotten there or if they’d done anything

— Her hand went to her lips and she

shook her head. Again, she tried to

remember last night. She remembered

only walking with Lydia and waking

up in Bael’s bed.

A knock sounded at her door and

she jumped, before relaxing. Vulcan

would not knock.

“Yes?”

The door opened and a soldier stood

in the doorway. “The king is asking

for your presence, Majesty.”

She stared at the soldier’s face, and

noticed he was looking at her with

something akin to sympathy. He

knew. Vulcan knew.

She nodded, and the soldier moved

from her room, closing the door

behind him.

Jaisyn walked over to the looking

glass and smoothed her dress down. It

was a beautiful fuchsia-colored day

dress, ornately embroidered with

various patterns of flowers. She

picked at a speck of invisible dust, ran

a hand down her round belly, and

lifted her chin. She was as ready to

face him as she could be.

***

Vulcan was sitting behind his desk

when she walked into the study and

closed the door. He did not move as

she approached, but continued to

stare at a pile of parchments on his

desk. When she was before the desk,

he looked up and the rage she saw in

his eyes frightened her. Still, she held

his gaze until he pushed the chair

back and stood.

“Tell

me,
wife
. Exactly what

happened last night?” The desk

separating them did nothing to

alleviate Jaisyn’s fears.

“I was preparing for bed when your

stepmother asked me to walk with

her. We spoke…and I returned.”

Jaisyn knew she’d left out vital

information in that summary but she

couldn’t say it. She couldn’t say it

because she knew how it would make

her look.

Vulcan

nodded

and

scowled

dangerously.

“And

nothing

else

happened,
wife
?”

She flinched inwardly at how he

said the word “wife,” like it was

something foul he was trying to get

from his mouth.

Jaisyn nodded and looked away

from his angry face. “That is all I

remember, Vulcan.”

“You don’t remember having Bael

escort you to your room?” he bit out.

She shook her head. In truth, she

didn’t remember anything concerning

Bael up until waking up in his arms.

“I have spoken to Lady Lydia,

Jaisyn. I demand the truth! I will not

be taken a fool in my own castle!”

He moved from behind the desk and

came to stand before her. His cheeks

were red. Grey eyes blazed down at

her.

It was a chore to keep her eyes on

his when her brain was telling her she

should be looking down. That she’d

done something so shameful it

required her to bow her head to him.

“What happened after my step-

mother left you with Bael?” His voice

had dropped to an ominous growl.

She shook her head. “Vulcan, I—I

don’t remember.” She could lie,

assure him that Bael had delivered her

to her room, or that she’d spent some