by C. L. Wilson
Below, he stopped in the middle of the terrace and pressed a palm to his chest. He glanced up, frowning. With a gasp she sank back into the shadows of the night drapes. His gaze searched the windows and balconies, coming back to her balcony several times, then fixing upon it as if he knew she was there, watching him. As if some invisible thread tied them together, linking them with some innate awareness of the other.
Her fingers tightened on the drapes until her knuckles turned white.
“Nothing,” she whispered, her voice the barest thread of sound. “I am nothing to you, and you will not pursue me.” And she kept whispering it again and again, until one of his men standing nearby called his name and finally pulled Dilys’s attention away. Before he could turn back in her direction, she yanked the night drapes closed and hurried to her bed.
Sweet Halla, if just the sight of him weakened her will and unraveled her calm this badly, then she would have to make it her mission to stay as far from him as possible. It would be difficult. Konumarr wasn’t exactly an enormous place. But she would succeed.
She’d spent a lifetime learning how to walk away from people and situations that threatened her self-control. Always before, even when it hurt terribly to turn from what she wanted, she simply remembered the time she had not, and then, walking away was easy.
It wasn’t easy this time. Not by a long shot. But walk away, she would.
Because when Gabriella ran from her desires, she wasn’t tucking tail.
She was saving lives.
Chapter 5
“Dilys! Thank Numahao, there you are!” Ari hurried across the garden terrace, Ryll close on his heels. As soon as they drew near, Ari grabbed Dilys’s arm and hauled him into the shadows of the garden, out of sight of the terrace where the welcoming party was still in full swing. “Did you find her?”
Dilys regarded his cousin in bewilderment. “Did I find who?”
“You know who. The woman who was using susirena.”
“Susirena?” Bewilderment changed to shock. “One of these women was using susirena? Are you sure? Who was it?”
“We don’t know. She Spoke just for an instant, and her Voice was gone too quickly for any of us to get a lock on the origin. But all of us heard it.” Ari tilted his head to one side, his golden eyes narrowing. “I’m surprised you didn’t. Where were you?”
“Taking a walk down by the fjord.” Dilys absently rubbed the golden trident on his left wrist. “Any possibility the susirena could have come from one of us? Maybe someone decided to show off, hoping to impress a female?”
Ari snorted. “It wasn’t one of us. I know a woman’s Voice when I hear it, Dilys.”
“Ari’s right,” Ryll concurred. “It was a definitely a woman. And considering how quiet it was and how quickly it was gone, it still packed quite a punch. I’m really surprised you didn’t hear it.”
“Perhaps it came from further inland and I was just out of range. We can ask the Calbernari in the village tomorrow if any of them heard anything. For now, let the other officers know to keep their ears open. If there’s a female here with the gift of susirena, we don’t want to return to Calberna without her. And we will want to trace her lineage, find out where she comes from.” If there was somewhere else in Mystral where susirena was manifesting, the Myerial would want to know about it, and Calberna’s sons would most definitely want to seek wives from such lands. “For now, let’s head back to the party. I don’t want our hosts to think we are unappreciative of their hospitality.”
The three of them slipped back into the crowd on the terrace with casual ease. It was 3 a.m., and the sun was already rising, but the party showed no signs of stopping. Dilys had to hand it to the Winterfolk. They certainly knew how to host a celebration. He couldn’t remember ever partaking in such an extravagance of feasting and entertainment. Food and alcohol flowed with never-ending abundance, and the music and dancing continued without cease.
If the celebration was a test—if the Winterfolk were expecting the Calbernans to descend into drunken revelry—they were disappointed. Calbernans, with their extremely high metabolisms, rarely became intoxicated. Alcohol and drugs of any sort burned off so quickly as to render them ineffective. Even had that not been the case, Dilys and his men had come to Wintercraig to find wives, a task no Calbernan undertook lightly.
Though Dilys and his men remained alert and watchful, the woman who had uttered that whisper of susirena did not use her Voice again. Finally, around six in the morning, the revelers began to seek their beds. Dilys waited until he received word that all his men had made it safely back to their ships before he retired to the rooms provided for him in the palace. There, he drew the blackout shades and poured a veil of water over every door and window before curling up on the bed for a few hours of sleep.
His sleep was not restful. He tossed and turned, his dreams plagued by images of golden eyes, sunlit seas, and a song that wound around his heart, filling him with desperate yearning and a sense of loss he couldn’t shake off.
He woke about half past ten to find the bedsheets twisted around his body and his hand wrapped around a huge erection.
“Sweet seas, Merimydion,” he muttered. “They tell you some woman whispered susirena, and you dream of Sirens all night.” With a pained laugh, he freed himself from the sheets, took care of the erection, then treated himself to a long soak in the spacious, claw-footed tub in his suite’s bathing chamber.
Winterfolk, thankfully, were of similar height and build to Calbernans, so he was able to stretch out to his full length in the tub and completely submerge himself, a rare treat for a Calbernan away from home. A collection of fragrant soaps and bath salts had been set out on a table beside the tub. He sniffed them all, then chose the ones that suited his mood. He poured the salts into the water and submerged himself in the tub, enjoying the sensual, silky feel of the water against his skin. Water was the lifeblood of Calberna, as essential to its people as food and love.
As he lay cocooned in luxuriant, wet warmth, he tried to plan the siege and conquest of Spring and Autumn, but his mind rebelled, coming back again and again to the mystery of woman who’d Spoken susirena and also—inexplicably—to the elusive third Season, Summer Coruscate.
That he kept thinking about a female with the gift of a powerful Voice made sense, but Summer Coruscate? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? And why did her blatant desire to avoid his company bother him so greatly?
He massaged his left wrist and pondered the mystery of the gentle Season’s apparent dislike of him. It was possible that something had happened to her to make her leery of men. He’d met more than his share of abused women over the years. One didn’t sail the oceans of Mystral for more than a decade, visiting some of the most dangerous ports and grimmest slave markets in the world, without having seen the hollow-eyed casualties of Mystral’s darkest shadows. In fact, given the way Verdan Coruscate had tried to murder his own daughter last winter, Dilys wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that the late king’s cruelty had extended to more than his youngest child. And yet, Dilys was fairly certain no such mistreatment had ever occurred. First, because had anyone ever dared hurt the gentlest and most beloved of the Seasons, the whole of Summerlea would have been up in arms. And second, because Summer herself had avoided no man last night but Dilys. Not even Ari—who was as close to Dilys’s identical twin as a Calbernan could get.
Yet she acted as though Dilys were a wolf, and she a helpless lamb he would devour if she strayed from the safety of the flock. He didn’t understand it. He was a big man and as fierce a son of the sea as any ever born, but he would never harm a woman. Especially not a woman he’d come to court.
Especially not her . . .
The mere thought that she might consider him capable of such a thing made his battle claws pop out and his fangs descend, ready to shred whatever demons had instilled that fear. He snarled, releasing a string of air bubbles that floated up to pop on the surface of his bath, then he sat up s
o abruptly that water sloshed over the tub rim.
“You’re being an idiot,” he muttered to himself. “Why does it matter whether she likes you or not? Or fears you, for that matter? She is not the one you’re here for. She’s nothing to you. Nothing.”
What man, when presented the opportunity to court two lovely, compelling women who welcomed his suit, would tie himself in angry knots over a third who obviously didn’t?
Only a narcissistic fool.
Dilys was neither narcissist nor fool.
Whatever this mad obsession for Summer Coruscate was, it ended now. He was here to wed Spring or Autumn, and that was exactly what he was going to do. What did it matter that for all Autumn’s stunning beauty and all Spring’s brilliance and regal reserve, nothing inside him cried, “She’s the one!” about either of them. He was a Calbernan. No matter what woman he married, once wed, she would become the center of his life and he would devote himself to her happiness for the rest of his days.
And his inexplicable fixation with Summer Coruscate?
He reached for the sea sponge and soap.
Best forgotten.
Thirty minutes later, garbed in a bright blue-and-white shuma secured in place with a belt encrusted with foaming waves fashioned from sapphires and diamonds, Dilys had put his disturbing thoughts of Summer Coruscate firmly behind him and focused his mind on the task at hand. He had come to claim a worthy, strong wife, strengthen Calberna’s ties to Wintercraig, and forge business alliances that would benefit both their countries.
Time to get to it.
He’d already concluded that the fastest path to Spring’s heart was through her love of horticulture and intellectual pursuits. Since agriculture was one of House Merimydion’s main industries—shipping being the other—there was ample room to find common ground and establish a friendly rapport and a solid foundation of mutual respect.
Autumn, he would continue to entertain with laughter and a little adventure. As was only natural for a woman who’d been sought after by men her whole life, she wasn’t particularly forthcoming with insights on how to engage her interests, but what bird in a gilded cage did not long to fly free? He thought she might enjoy sailing and hiking, pursuits that got her away from the court where she was always being observed and emulated and pursued by hopeful suitors.
He also hadn’t missed the admiring glances both princesses had given him and his men. That was why he’d chosen the blue-and-white shuma, and why he’d exchanged yesterday’s belled ankle-rings and golden armbands for ones of beaded platinum that sported the same cresting-wave pattern as his belt. The pale metal, brilliant diamonds, and pure white cloth contrasted dramatically with his dark bronze skin and the long ropes of obsidian hair spilling free and unadorned down his back and over his shoulders.
He looked exactly like what he was: a rich and valorous Sealord of Calberna, strong, powerful, battle-tested. Confident in all things and easy on the eye. A man even a wealthy, beautiful, magically-gifted princess would be pleased to call her own.
With a wave of his hand, Dilys removed the water veils from his doors and windows and exited his room.
He met Ari and Ryll coming out of their own rooms, freshly bathed, sharp-eyed and smiling.
“D’you think they will be serving food?” Ari asked. His belly rumbled, making them all laugh. They’d all eaten heartily throughout the celebration, but Calbernan metabolisms burned food as quickly as they did intoxicants.
“If not, the fjord is just a dive away,” Ryll said.
A dive in the fjord and a brisk, watery hunt for breakfast sounded beyond good on a visceral level, but Dilys shook his head. “We eat like oulani for now.”
Ryll sighed. “I hope at least they’ll have salmon. I like salmon.”
They turned the corner and Ari nearly mowed over a young maid who was rushing down the hall with an armful of linens. The maid gasped. The linens tumbled to the floor. Instead of rushing to pick them up, the maid stood there, gaping at Ari.
He smiled, his teeth white and dazzling, which only seemed to addle the girl more. “Here, let me help you with that, kali mana,” he said. The girl stood frozen in her tracks as Ari collected the fallen linens and stacked them neatly back in her arms. His smile grew warmer, his gaze holding her captive. “We’re on the hunt for something to eat.” His throaty voice and appreciative gaze made it sound like he wouldn’t mind dining on her, and in a way that would more than satisfy them both. “Can you direct us to the nearest breakfast chamber?”
The girl’s throat worked but no sound came out. She swallowed, balanced the linens in one arm, and pointed a trembling finger down one of the nearby corridors.
“Moa nana, kali mana.” My thanks, little jewel. With a last, lingering smile, Ari turned and headed in the direction the maid had indicated.
Shaking their heads, Dilys and Ryll followed.
“You really shouldn’t do that,” Ryll muttered.
“What?”
“You know what. Poor girl probably won’t get a lick of work done today.”
Ari grinned and glanced back over his shoulder. The little maid was standing exactly where he’d left her, watching him, linens tilting precariously in her lax arms. “I just gave her a little something to brighten her day.”
Dilys rolled his eyes. “Ryll is right. Save your charms for your future liana.” Ari hadn’t used susirena to dazzle the maid—even though all imlani, including all males—possessed the gift in some degree. No true warrior of the Isles would even contemplate using magic to make a woman want him. Learning to court and win a woman was as much a part of their rigorous training as their battle and sailing skills. A Calbernan male could entice with his voice, his touch, his eyes, even the smallest motion of his body. And that was what Ari had just done.
“You’re just jealous because the myerinas like me better than you.” Ari arched a brow. “Including a particular sweet, summery little blue-eyed beauty.”
Dilys ignored the quick, violent clench of his gut and laughed. “If you’re talking about the Princess Summer, I wouldn’t exactly call getting ten words out of her a sign of affection.”
“That’s ten more words than she gave you.”
“She’s shy.”
“She wasn’t shy about talking to everyone else last night. In fact, it seemed to me like she was making a point of visiting every table but ours and talking to every Calbernan but you. Because she talked to me. And she talked to you too, Ryll, didn’t she?” He didn’t wait for Ryll to answer. “Why, yes. Yes, she did. And she must’ve liked what she heard because she spoke to you again at great length, didn’t she? That was you cozied up to her for half an hour on the terrace this morning, wasn’t it?”
Ryll scowled. “Leave me out of it, Arilon Calmyria.”
Dilys frowned at his cousin. “You spoke to Myerialanna Summer for half an hour this morning? About what?” Suspicion reared its head. “You haven’t set a line for her, have you?”
Ryll drew himself up, clearly affronted. “I have not,” he bit out, each word solid as a rock. “The three Seasons are off limits. We all know that.”
“But you spoke to her for half an hour.”
“I ran into her this morning coming back from a swim. She wanted to talk. What was I supposed to do?”
“Wanted to talk about what?”
“Wait,” Ari interrupted. “You went swimming this morning?” He glared at his cousin. “Went hunting, you mean! You’ve already eaten!”
Ryll shifted his weight guiltily. “I just had a couple of salmon. And nobody saw.”
“And you didn’t invite me? You selfish—”
Dilys cut off Ari’s bluster. “You say Myerialanna Summer wanted to talk? About what?”
“Her brother, Falcon, for the most part.”
“Oh.” Dilys settled back a bit. A sister asking after her brother was no cause for alarm. But, then . . . “What about the least part?”
His cousin’s expression turned confused. “What?”
“You said she wanted to talk about Falcon for the most part. What about the least part? What else did she talk about?”
“Oh, er . . .” Ryll began to look distinctly uncomfortable.
“Ryllian . . .”
“She was just being polite. It’s the oulani way.”
“What is the oulani way?”
“Asking about a visitor’s interests, about his culture and experiences.”
“And his ulumi,” Ari interjected with a smirk and an air of triumphant retribution, as if pointing that out were as much payback for his cousin going hunting in the fjord without him as it was a teasing prod at Dilys.
“She asked about your ulumi?” Dilys’s voice rose. Despite his earlier decision to put Summer Coruscate from his mind, Dilys’s battle claws sprang free in an instinctive territorial response.
Ulumi were the iridescent tattoos that covered every experienced adult male Calbernan’s body. In Calberna, when a myerina asked a man to recount the tales of the victorious exploits inked across his body, it was a sign of intimate interest. Of course, they knew that a similar expression of curiosity from oulani females didn’t necessarily mean the same thing, but nevertheless, when any unattached woman inquired about a Calbernan’s tattoos, the speculation, sly winks, and rampant, shameless wagering began.
Seeing Dilys’s claws, Ryll winced and held up his own, claw-free hands. “It wasn’t like that.”
“What was it like?”
“She wasn’t asking about my ulumi in particular. She was asking about the meaning of them in general.”
“And what was your answer?”
“I told her the ulumi are the personal record of every Calbernan male’s victories in battle, and that if she wanted to know any specifics, she should ask you.”