by Jeanne Hardt
She tightened her hold. “Are you certain your wives will not be concerned over your whereabouts?”
“I often wander. The duties of a king require my absence from them. Surely, you understand.”
She pushed out a frown, but doubted he could see it. “That I do. In the short time I was with Frederick, he explained the responsibilities of a king. He was not mine alone, he belonged to the entire realm.” She lifted her head high and boldly raised her veil. Fully exposed, she looked sideways at the king and softly smiled. “Honestly, as high king, he served the whole world.”
Imran studied her features as if he saw more in her than a grieving widow. He seemed pleased she had unshielded her face. “Your husband always acted honorably to Issa. He treated my family with respect. More so than Callum of Oros. As you are well aware, he gives little regard to my opinions and blatantly speaks out against the way we have chosen to live our lives.”
“Callum and his wife have already arrived, so you would be wise to mind your words. You never know who might be listening.” She patted his arm. “I fear I have already upset him. Because of it, his mood is quite ill.”
Imran cut his eyes toward her. “You must tell me more, though I have a feeling I know what prompted your disagreement. Something to do with the high throne?”
She let out a soft laugh and broadened her smile. “You are wise, Imran.”
“I know Callum well.” He released a long, weary-sounding breath. “What of your family? When do you expect your brothers to arrive?”
“Likely in several days. Word was sent to Thanwine soon after Frederick’s passing.”
Imran solemnly nodded. “And your sister as well? Princess Carmela?” The man’s eyes widened as he said her name.
“I am afraid not. That is another lengthy tale.”
“Oh…” Oddly, the man looked terribly disappointed, but he quickly removed the expression as if trying to hide it. “Well, then. It would seem we have much to discuss.”
“Have you the time?” They reached the great hall and she led him to a chair at the grand table, yet he did not take it.
He held up a hand, then pulled out a chair for her. “I have as much time as you require.” He helped her sit. “For now, I am yours, my queen.”
The naughtiest of thoughts ran through her mind as he took his own seat. However, she needed to stay focused on other issues, so she motioned for a servant. “Bring us some wine.”
The girl nodded, then hastened away.
Angeline sighed. “It will not be as good as Issan wine, but it will satisfy our thirst as we converse.”
“Very good.” He rested his hands on the tabletop. “Now, please, tell me all that has transpired since your wedding day.”
She glanced to the far end of the room, grateful to see Kendor’s guards standing watch over the thrones. She also caught Kendor’s gaze. Until that very moment, she had not realized he had remained near. The man had surprising stealth. When their eyes met, he smiled and tapped the hilt of his sword. With a gentle smile and nod, she reassured him King Imran posed no threat. Even so, Kendor kept his stance, not far from her.
The servant girl returned with their wine, and since much needed to be said, Angeline downed a long drink before speaking.
She spoke in length, and all the while, King Imran silently listened. Though she left out a number of details, she made him aware of the state of every realm. She also explained how Carmela had fled with Tesher—a fact that seemed to interest him more than most any other issue.
“As for Callum…” she concluded, “he does indeed desire the high throne. That is why my guards stand so possessively beside it.”
Imran scowled. “A physical throne alone does not make one a high king. I see no reason to remove such a sacred relic from where it belongs. Basilia rightfully attained it, and your coming child—should it be a boy—will one day sit upon it.”
His acceptance of her condition brought forth a real smile. “I appreciate you not questioning my pregnancy. Callum scoffed, claiming no woman could know of a baby’s existence so soon after conception.”
“If a woman is fully attuned to her own body, she would recognize such a change. It is evident, you are quite aware of what is happening within you.”
Angeline mindlessly ran her fingers across her neck. The course their conversation had taken satisfied her greatly, yet she did not care to have Kendor within hearing.
She motioned him over.
“Yes, my queen?”
She shifted sideways in her chair, then bent her finger to draw him closer.
He moved directly beside her and dropped to one knee. “What do you require?” Even in his current position, he kept his body erect and reverent.
She leaned close to his ear. “As you can see,” she whispered, “I am safe in King Imran’s company. But I am concerned over what King Callum might be doing at this very moment. Go and see that he is behaving himself. I will not have him speaking ill of me in an attempt to turn my people against me.”
“I understand.” His stern seriousness charmed her.
“Once you have seen to Callum, go to King Imran’s wives and assure they are comfortable in their rooms. In two hours, come to my chamber and report all you have discovered.” She placed a hand on his arm. “I trust you more than anyone to accomplish these tasks.”
“I will not fail you, my queen.” He gave a quick nod, stood, and strode away.
She slowly rotated around and faced the king again.
“Your man is loyal,” he said. “And I understand why. It would not be difficult to serve someone such as yourself. A woman who is not only gracious and wise, but beautiful as well.”
She shyly looked away. “You flatter me.”
“I only say what is true.”
With a show of forced courage, she faced him squarely. “Having so many wives, you obviously appreciate women and their capabilities.”
“Without women, my life would be meaningless.” He leaned forward. “Men have been gifted with strength. But even the strongest of men cannot produce a child. That capability was given to women alone. Your bodies are woven together in a fashion which I view as magical. You are able to knit a new life within you, then nourish it after its birth. If that is not magic, what is?”
She coyly looked down and rubbed her stomach. “All creatures produce new life. I am no different than a horse, a sheep, or any other form of livestock.” She lifted her gaze to his and softly smiled. “And yet, your praise warms me. Your kind words make me feel as if I still have purpose.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Never compare yourself to mindless beasts. Do not demean yourself, Angeline, for you are of the highest quality. You have a great deal of life ahead of you. Frederick’s passing has not changed who you are, and I am certain you will accomplish much.”
“You have confidence I can rule without him?”
“Yes.”
Her heart pattered harder. “What think you of a woman sitting upon the high throne?”
“Are you speaking of yourself, or your unborn child—should it be a girl?”
She moistened her lips and pulled her shoulders back. “Does it matter to whom I refer?”
He keenly eyed her and gave a single nod.
Not since conversing with Frederick did Angeline feel the need to carefully mind her words. She did not know Imran well enough to read into his purpose for asking. If she spoke wrongly, she could receive an unfavorable response. Why his approval of her mattered in the least bothered her even more. She did not want to care for a man she intended to kill.
She chose to be bold. “I speak of myself. I am high queen. Since my birth, I was instructed in leadership and how to guide the people I serve into seeing reason.”
“Do you not mean, the people who serve you?”
She motioned to the servant girl, who had refilled their goblets more than once. “She is a servant, and I rely on her to take care of my needs. However, the people of the realms are more tha
n mere servants. Each and every one of them are precious to me. They provide the food of which I partake, the clothes I wear, the linens on my bed, and honestly, every aspect of my existence. Without them, I would perish. I serve them, so they will flourish. And in doing so, they are able to care for me. I will always seek ways to make their lives more pleasurable. Joyful people are far more productive than those in despair. Would you not agree?”
He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his scant beard. “You are exceptional, Angeline. I admire the way you view your people.”
“As high queen, those in Issa are also my people.” She broadly smiled. “Including you, King Imran.”
He eased upright. “And do you wish to please me? Make me joyful?”
Her heart thumped hard. If she understood him correctly, she believed he desired her as much as she did him. But once again, she had to tread lightly or she might humiliate herself. “If I were to reveal the thoughts currently racing through my mind, I fear you would think less of me. After all, my husband’s body is scarcely cold, and I am ashamed of how I see you.”
He reached out, and she tentatively took his hand. His thumb ran small circles over her skin, heating her entire body.
“In Issa…” He spoke low and inviting. “We know not of shame. We believe the god of passion instilled sacred emotions in the depths of our being. You are well aware of the practices in my realm. Most people in the other kingdoms frown on us, and yet their men do not hesitate to reap the benefits of our culture.”
Her mouth had grown horribly dry, so she grasped her goblet with her free hand and took another long drink. “Is it not shameful for me to have desires in a time of mourning?”
“Certainly not. Do you not see the sense in your longing? You have been hurt, and your spirit reaches out, begging for comfort. Think no more of shame.”
She took another small sip from her cup, then set it on the table. Purposefully, she took her time, allowing him to believe she truly had to give deep thought to his words. “I do see the sense in it,” she whispered and kept her eyes lowered. “There is a simplistic purity in the way you live.”
“It gratifies me to hear you say it. You carry the burden of grief. Why weigh it down heavier with guilt over feelings that come about naturally?”
His words brought back memories of a similar conversation she had had with Tesher. She had spoken to him of natural-born desire in order to bend him to her will, but perhaps all along she was more Issan than she realized. Their way of life sprung effortlessly from her.
This topic of conversation led perfectly into what she wanted to further discuss with Imran. She made a point to look around her, then leaned forward, reducing the distance between them. “May I confide something?”
“Of course.”
To feign nervousness, she twisted her fingers together. “For many years, I have struggled with passion. I remained a maid, only because our laws demanded it. And when Frederick took me to himself on the day of our wedding, he released something in me I have difficulty explaining. Now that I have tasted mature pleasure, I cannot dismiss the idea of it. I crave it.” She covered her mouth as if embarrassed, then let out a staggered breath. “From the moment I saw you…” She locked her eyes with his and gulped. “I imagined myself entwined with you.”
He sat tall and puffed out his chest. “You honor me.”
Shyly, she turned her head. If only she could redden her cheeks at will, it would add to her ruse. “I cannot believe my thoughts so readily spilled from my lips. I feel rather foolish, but surely, you must realize how desirable you are.” The rate of her breathing increased, and that particular reaction was by no means false. Whenever she contemplated a good romp in bed, excited anticipation pumped her blood hard. Even so, she did all she could to retain calm.
“Desire is not foolish,” he said in the same rich tone as his son had used. No doubt, the boy had learned much from his father.
She slowly faced the beautiful man. “If our laws permitted, I would lie with you.”
“And yet, they do not.” He stood, walked around the table, and sat in the chair beside her. “As I said, you honor me with your claims of desire. If you ask it of me, I will happily ease you in your bed and help you set aside your sorrow, if only for a time.” He reached under the table and caressed her leg.
She closed her eyes, savoring his sensual touch. Perhaps she could find a way to secretly steal him away to her room—just as she had Denali and Darius. But even her toying with them had carried great risk. And if word spread that she had given herself to the king of Issa, she would lose the respect of everyone in Basilia, as well as in Thanwine and Oros. Until she changed the laws, she had to set aside her passion.
Damn.
She forced herself to say the most difficult thing ever. “I cannot,” she whispered.
When she opened her eyes and looked into his, something far deeper than longing stared back at her. It seemed to be…sorrow.
She deepened her gaze. “I believe I have disappointed you with my refusal. So, please…tell me how Issa came into being, and how I might change the laws of every realm to resemble yours. If I can accomplish it, one day, we can lie together without shame or repercussions.”
He clutched his chest as though he were in agony and breathed out hefty puffs of air.
“Imran?” She searched his face. “What troubles you?”
Every bit of sensuality that had filled the air around them vanished. He pivoted in his seat and put his back to her. “Maranda…” he mumbled.
Angeline gasped. She could not recall the last time someone spoke her mother’s name. And the way he said it…
“Oh, God…” Truth hit her harder than any heavy-handed slap. How had she not seen it sooner? “It was you.”
His entire body deflated as if he had lost every ounce of strength. “You are so much like her.” He turned in his chair, and the simple action alone seemed to pain him. And although he lifted his head and looked at her, he was not the same man. “When Maranda and I first met, she frowned on the Issan ways, yet much changed after that initial encounter. After discovering she carried my child, she wrote me a lengthy letter telling me of her pregnancy and wishing the laws of our realms could be the same. If they had been, she would not have been shamed.” He swallowed hard. “Your father despised her for what she and I did.”
“Carmela…” Angeline had difficulty breathing. She had somehow been blinded to their undeniable resemblance.
“Yes. She is mine.”
Killing him would no longer be an issue. She would revel in it. “Does she know?”
“No. Few do. I learned of it only through your mother’s correspondence, but your father discovered the truth. Maranda feared her life would be in peril once the child came.” Imran’s features hardened. “She had no difficulty birthing you or your brothers, and she should not have perished bringing Carmela into the world.”
“What are you saying?” Angeline folded her arms over her chest. “Do you believe my father ended her?”
Imran did not respond, but remained stone-faced.
Angeline jutted her chin and leered at him. “By our laws, he had every right. She was his, not yours. Mother should not have strayed.” Had they been completely alone, she would have screamed every word at him.
“And yet, did you not just ask how you might change your laws to resemble ours? Straying, as you called it, would not exist.” He stood. “The hatred I see in your eyes and the desire for retribution tells me you are not ready to abide by our statutes. All I ask is that you do not speak of this to anyone. Carmela does not deserve to be chastised over the actions of her parents, and I will tell her the truth when the time is fitting. If you love her, keep this from becoming common knowledge.” He kept his steely gaze on Angeline. “Though you may not care to hear it, I loved your mother.”
Frowning, he bowed low. “I am sorry for your losses, my queen.” He spun on his heels and hastened from the room.
Losses.
>
No longer did he simply offer condolences for Frederick. The king had just apologized for his relationship with her mother. His love for her—if it indeed existed—killed her.
Angeline sat frozen in her chair, trying to process all he had said. The newfound information changed many things. She had despised Carmela since the day of her birth, blaming her for their mother’s death.
Angeline’s father had seemed grieved, but he was just as capable of falsehoods as she. Raising Carmela as his own may have been his means of twisting a knife into the back of King Imran. That, along with killing the source of his rage and Imran’s love, would have brought the greatest of torment to the king of Issa.
Perhaps that was why he had allowed her and her brothers—along with Carmela, of course—to so freely spend time in Issa. Her father had paraded them around the king as a reminder of what he had lost.
Imran had claimed few knew the truth of Carmela’s parentage. Her sister was the same age as Flint, which meant Imran had become involved with her mother within a year after his marriage to Mesha. Imran had likely begun the affair during Mesha’s pregnancy with Yakar.
Abundant questions came to mind for the renegade king. Oddly, he had become far less attractive than when she had first greeted him at the gate. At least she had refrained from allowing him in her bed. The idea of coupling with a man who had bed her mother did not set well.
But what should she do about Carmela? Tell her the truth, or keep it hidden?
Once Angeline killed Imran, the truth could very well die with him, and Carmela would never know him as her father. It would be best for all concerned. After all, with Imran’s status—regardless of how the other kings felt about Issa—Carmela was a full-blooded princess, worthy of a throne. No matter the truth, Angeline despised her and wanted nothing good to come of her life.
Angeline grunted. She had often said Carmela was no better than the whores of Issa. More truth lay in her words than she had realized.
She rubbed her pounding temples. Carmela’s situation was the least of her worries. Imran had challenged something more within her. Perhaps the laws of her realm were more deep-seated than she realized. Yes, she had aching desires and needs no one man could fill, yet could she overcome jealousy in its entirety? And if she could not, how could she expect her people to adapt to the change in the laws?