Prince of Swords

Home > Other > Prince of Swords > Page 22
Prince of Swords Page 22

by Linda Winstead Jones


  Keelia had a word with her husband and another with Merin, and then she did something which shocked Rayne to her very core.

  The Queen sprouted wings. She put her head back and spread her arms, and then she sprouted wings like those of a large bird, or an angel. Her face changed subtly, feathers sprouted in her hair, and then she flapped those large wings and flew. Rayne stared, awestruck. The Arndell brothers stared. Everyone in the camp stared in awe, until the Queen was so far away they could no longer see her.

  “How very odd she is,” Trystan said softly.

  “Yeah, but not at all bad-looking,” Devlyn said. “I wouldn’t kick her out of my bed if I happened to find her there.”

  Trystan sighed. “If her consort hears you say that, he will tear you apart and I will not lift a finger to stop him.”

  “Thanks, brother. It was just an observation. It’s not as if I’m actually likely to find a Queen in my bed. Shit, I don’t even have a proper bed these days, thanks to you. How did I ever let you talk me into enlisting in this army?”

  “You were drunk,” Trystan responded.

  “So I was.”

  Devlyn turned to Rayne. “How exactly are you so very special?” The question might’ve been a sarcastic and hurtful one, but his smile was sincere.

  Rayne was not yet ready to introduce herself as an Earth Goddess, so she said, “I’m a very good gardener.”

  Instead of being put off by her answer, Devlyn said, “Excellent! I’d much prefer to stand guard over a pretty gardener than to clash swords against those nasty Ciro’s Own fellows. They do not fight fairly.”

  “Neither do you,” Trystan said as he joined them.

  Devlyn studied Rayne’s too-short hair with interest. “I knew a woman once who wore her hair just so.”

  “Really? On purpose?”

  “Yes, very much on purpose. She would adorn her short locks with brightly colored flowers or jeweled clips, and it was ever so much easier to get to her neck.” Devlyn leaned in as if he intended to demonstrate.

  “Forgive my brother,” Trystan said as he elbowed Devlyn aside. “He knows no boundaries and possesses no manners at all.”

  “We’re twins, you know,” Devlyn said, crossing his arms in a casual pose and ignoring her exposed neck.

  “I never would’ve guessed,” Rayne said. Though they did look somewhat alike, they were definitely not mirror images of one another. “Which one of you is older?”

  “Dammit, Arndell!” General Merin’s voice was sharp, and both Arndells turned to his call. Even Devlyn’s spine straightened. “What the hell are you doing here? A small contingent of Ciro’s Own has been spotted a short distance away, and we’re riding out in minutes. I should not have to search the camp for those soldiers who are supposed to be ready to fight!”

  “The Anwyn Queen ordered us not to leave M’lady Rayne’s side until she returns, sir,” Trystan explained.

  Devlyn added a simple, “Yep. That’s why we’re here.”

  Merin sighed. “I have learned not to question that one. We’ll miss your swords, but this will likely not be our fiercest fight.” He glanced over his shoulder and smiled. It was the first time Rayne had ever seen his face in such a state. “They’re not moving toward us in an organized fashion, they’re running away.”

  They were running away because Ciro was dead. Rayne knew that but she wasn’t sure how much Keelia had shared with the others before she’d flown off like a huge, graceful bird. Feeling it was not her secret to share, Rayne excused herself and said she wished to lie down in her tent. The brothers followed her, and as she entered the small tent which had become home for now, they settled themselves at the exit.

  Rayne did lie down but she couldn’t sleep. Her mind was spinning, and not all of her thoughts concerned her future at the moment. Why had Keelia asked those two to guard her? She wasn’t even sure a guard was necessary, and if it was, then any soldier should do. Why them, and why had her eyes lit up so as she’d called for them? The brothers’ voices drifted to her.

  “I wouldn’t kick M’lady Rayne out of my bed, if I had a bed,” Devlyn said.

  “Is there any woman alive you would kick out of your bed?” Trystan’s voice was sharp.

  “Of course. I can be somewhat discriminating. She has great tits, don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

  In the privacy of her tent, Rayne’s face grew warm. Trystan was right; his brother knew no boundaries!

  “Keep your voice down,” Trystan insisted. “Someone might hear you.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “That’s your problem,” Trystan said sharply. “You don’t care about anything or anyone.”

  “And you care too much,” Devlyn countered.

  Rayne shut her ears to the brothers’ bantering and thought about Lyr. He was well, Keelia had said. For now, nothing mattered but that. He had succeeded, he had won, he had fulfilled his prophesy.

  Now what? She didn’t know what the future held and Keelia insisted that she didn’t need to know. Her initial reaction to that refusal had been anger, but in the weeks since Lyr had led her away from home, she’d learned to enjoy what each day brought. Love had been a surprise, as it should be. What was to happen next was also yet to be written.

  She closed her eyes, feeling safe with the odd Arndell brothers at her door. Keelia had been right about something else.

  Rayne did know that Lyr loved her.

  THE PALACE WAS MORE EMPTY THAN NOT, AS CIRO’S SERvants had fled. Without the demon, they were cowards. Lyr was more than ready to return to the camp where he’d left Rayne waiting, but before he could depart, it was necessary that the new emperor and empress be settled in safely, with sufficient guards to prevent any attacks by dark soldiers who weren’t content to flee. Sentinels had been called, but they were not yet at their posts.

  Lyr could do nothing but wait. Wait and watch and listen, as his cousin and her husband tried to make sense of their new situation.

  “This is ridiculous,” Sian muttered. Thanks to Ariana’s enhanced healing powers, he was fully recovered from his ordeal. “For months I’ve managed to fight on my own, and now that I’m fucking emperor, I need an army of sentinels to stand between me and the rest of the world?”

  “That language isn’t befitting the new ruler of the country,” Ariana said calmly.

  Sian cast his wife a sharp glance. “You’re enjoying this.”

  “I am not.”

  “Where are your mother and her blasted sisters?” Sian threw up a disgusted hand. “Where are those damn twins?”

  “If they can’t find Liane and the boys…” Ariana began.

  “Then I’m it.” Disgusted, Sian plopped down in the biggest chair in this room in which he’d been pacing.

  The throne.

  Ariana sat on his knee. “Whatever happens is meant to happen. Sebestyen’s sons will be found or they won’t. You will be emperor for many years or you won’t. Whatever happens, I will be with you.” She took his hand and led it to her stomach. “We will be with you.”

  Ariana had not said a word to Lyr about a baby, but it was now clear that she was carrying one. Smart woman. If she had revealed her condition to Lyr, he would’ve tied her up and left her behind—empress or not.

  Sian stilled immediately as he contemplated his wife’s belly. “I don’t want my son to grow up like Ciro.”

  “No matter where we are, whether we’re here or at your home in the mountains, he won’t. I promise.”

  The guards Lyr had been waiting for finally arrived, and he said a quick good-bye. He’d told Rayne to run if he didn’t return in four days, which meant he had a day and a half to get to her before she fled the camp. The countryside still wasn’t safe for a woman alone. Too many of Ciro’s Own survived.

  Not for long.

  RAYNE DID NOT PLAN TO RUN ANYWHERE, EVEN THOUGH Lyr had told her to do so. Thanks to Keelia, she knew he’d been successful and there was no reason to hide from Ciro or those who would kill
her to keep her from bearing his son. And still, as morning and the deadline approached, she could not sleep. If Lyr could be here, he would.

  And yet she could not help but remember that while Ciro was dead, his Own lived on, though their number was less every day, and they were no longer fighting in an organized effort but in small and ineffective pockets of resistance. Would Lyr be so intent on reaching her that he’d allow his vigilance to slip and fall into a trap?

  No, his gift would aide him, if necessary.

  She dressed in the clothes Gwyneth had given her, since her traveling dress had gone to Arthes with Lyr and Ariana and the others. Devlyn Arndell had told her a woman with similarly short hair often adorned her locks with flowers, but on this chilly morning there were no flowers to be had. She knew Lyr would be here soon, and she wanted to be beautiful to his eyes when he arrived.

  And then?

  She had no idea what would happen then. Keelia had suggested that she did not need to know, but must take every day as it came, good and bad, happy and sad. As long as Lyr was in it, she could endure anything.

  Devlyn Arndell was posted at the entrance to her tent, as attentive as a man of his character could be. He and his brother took turns sleeping for a few hours during the night, and it was apparently Trystan’s turn to rest. Since they had been ordered not to leave her sight, the more sober of the two Arndells slept on a bedroll a few feet away.

  “You’re up very early, m’lady.” Devlyn kept his voice low, so as not to disturb his brother.

  “I can’t sleep,” she said just as softly. “I’m expecting someone to arrive shortly.”

  “The Tryfynian fellow, I assume.”

  It wasn’t unexpected that there had been talk about her and Lyr, since they’d arrived together and she had not gone to the trouble to hide her feelings. He’d even stopped time for a kiss, but of course no one but the two of them realized that.

  “Yes, the Tryfynian fellow. Prince of Swords, to be precise.”

  Devlyn sighed. “So I have heard. Even so, I would fight him for you, if you’d like.” The offer was playfully tendered, so Rayne did not take him seriously.

  “No, thank you.”

  “Is this prince fellow worthy of a pretty and talented gardener such as yourself?” Devlyn asked.

  “Most definitely,” Rayne responded. She searched the immediate area for a plant which might flower if she commanded that it do so, but here in the center of the camp, all plants had been trampled or pulled from the ground to make way for soldiers. There would be no flower for her short hair, no adornment for Lyr’s sake.

  Now that the war was done, or almost done, perhaps there would be time for gardens, for vegetables and flowers and adornment. Perhaps she and Lyr might pass more than one night in a bed. Perhaps she would have a warm bath, and new clothes, and shoes which were not falling apart from constant abuse. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

  She heard Lyr coming almost precisely four days to the hour after he left. No, she didn’t hear him exactly, she felt him moving nearer. She felt him in the wind, in the rumble of the earth beneath her feet, in the pit of her soul. Rayne stood with her feet firmly planted on the ground and her face lifted to the wind, and she felt him.

  Moments later he was there, dismounting before his horse came to a full stop, not stopping to talk to any of the soldiers who hailed him for news or congratulations. He came directly toward Rayne, ignoring all others.

  Lyr walked toward her quickly and strongly, and she could tell that he was uninjured. Ciro had not touched him. None of the Own had harmed him. He’d done what he was meant to do and he’d survived to return to her.

  Devlyn placed himself between her and Lyr, adopting a protective pose. “If you wish to see the pretty gardener, you must come through me…”

  Rayne blinked, and Lyr was directly before her. A bypassed Devlyn spun about. “Hey! How did you do that? When I said you had to come through me, I didn’t mean literally.”

  “You’ve had your fun, Devlyn,” Rayne said as she put her arms around Lyr’s waist and held on tight.

  “Not really, but I suppose I know when it’s time to quit. Sure you don’t want me to—”

  “Positive,” Rayne said before he could finish his question.

  The commotion woke Trystan, who came off his bedroll with a grumble and a reach for his sword, before he realized who held his charge.

  “Who are these annoying men?” Lyr asked.

  “My bodyguards.”

  “They’re dismissed.”

  “Only General Merin or Queen Keelia can dismiss us,” Trystan responded.

  Lyr turned and locked eyes with the soldier. “You’ve been relieved of your duties.”

  Trystan was ready to argue, but in this case it was his brother who displayed the most common sense. “Come on, let’s take a walk. I think our little gardener will be well protected in her present company.”

  “We were ordered…”

  “We won’t go far.” Devlyn clapped a friendly arm across his twin’s shoulder and they walked away from the tent.

  Lyr removed the necklace she had given him for luck and placed it over her head so that the blue gem dropped against her chest. “Thank you,” he said softly. “I believe this gem blinded Ciro for a moment. It was a moment I very much needed.”

  “I’m glad I could help,” she whispered.

  Lyr took her face in his hands and kissed her, much as he had before he’d left. One hand slipped to the back of her head and he held her there while he kissed her. He took her breath away with his mouth on hers. There was heart in the kiss, heart and soul and surrender.

  And he said he had no heart to give.

  When the kiss ended, he rested his forehead against hers. “The bastard will never touch you,” Lyr whispered. “You’re safe now.”

  Rayne sighed in relief. Thanks to Keelia, she’d known that Ciro was dead, but hearing the truth from Lyr’s lips warmed her to the pit of her soul. “It’s over.”

  Lyr’s hand tightened at the back of her neck as he answered in a less than reassuring voice, “Almost.”

  17

  LYR LED RAYNE INTO HER TENT. IT WAS BEST THAT NO ONE else know what he possessed. He could trust Rayne with the secret, but until Keelia told him how to proceed, no one else could know.

  Once they were inside the tent, he shrugged off the small leather rucksack he’d been carrying for so many miles and opened it. There was only one object inside, and he handled it with care. Rayne gasped when she saw it.

  “Is that—”

  “Yes,” he answered before she could finish her question. “It’s the crystal dagger.”

  The dagger was now as black as it had once been bright. The demon which had been sucked from Ciro’s body was trapped inside the crystal. The dagger was not only black but heavier than it had been, and it made him uncomfortable to touch it, whereas before he felt as if the dagger fed his own magical energy. The weapon no longer spoke to him, now that its mission had been accomplished.

  He could not wait to be rid of the blasted thing, but he was sure there had to be a specific way to dispose of the dagger so that the Isen Demon never escaped. He suspected simply tossing it into a deep river wouldn’t be enough. Sian and Ariana hadn’t had any clue how that could be accomplished.

  “I’m hoping Keelia can tell me how to dispose of it,” he explained as he returned the dagger to the rucksack. “As soon as it’s light, I’ll wake her.”

  “She’s not here,” Rayne said anxiously.

  Not here? Impossible. “She was supposed to stay in camp!”

  “She did, until she knew that you had won. She said it felt as if a weight had been lifted from the world, and then she got an odd and sudden urge to go see her mother.” Rayne’s nose wrinkled. “Lyr, she flew. She sprouted wings and took to the air like a gigantic bird.”

  “I’d heard that she’s found new talents of late,” Lyr said, disappointed to know that he could not immediately be rid of the dagger that was
, until it was disposed of, his responsibility.

  “And quite a talent it is. I did not know such a thing was possible. She does plan to return soon,” Rayne explained. “She told the Arndell brothers to keep watch over me until she gets back.”

  “The Arndell brothers. Those two men who tried to keep me from you, I suppose.”

  “They’re simply doing as they were told,” she said, and then she smiled. It was a nice smile, one he had missed in his days away from her.

  “What about you?” He reached out and touched her short hair. Cutting those long locks had been necessary, but he’d hated to ask her to make the sacrifice. “Have you discovered any new talents of your own? Have you tried?”

  Rayne shook her head. “I thought about trying to produce a flower for my hair, but there wasn’t a suitable plant in the vicinity. I didn’t even think of exploring my abilities while you were away. I just thought of you and where you might be and what you might be facing.”

  Looking at her now, Lyr decided the shorter style suited her face. Her neck looked longer, her cheeks softer, her eyes larger. Even if her hair were as short as his, she’d still be the most beautiful woman in the world.

  “While I am disappointed to know that Keelia is not in camp, I believe there are agreeable enough ways for us to pass the time until she returns.”

  Lyr placed the rucksack with the crystal dagger in it aside. When that was done, Rayne moved easily into his lap, and he kissed her again. Since leaving here to complete his mission, he had missed her so much. He had worried about her, he had craved her touch more than he dared to admit.

  But now she was here, and there was no more need to worry. Ciro was dead, the demon was trapped, and Rayne was safe.

  Ariana had boldly put forth the possibility that he might wonder if his sexual liaisons with Rayne would be as powerful if they did not face each day as if it were their last. In moments, he proved that concern to be invalid.

  KEELIA RETURNED TO CAMP ON THE AFTERNOON OF Lyr’s return, and she did not arrive alone. A woman traveled on Keelia’s back, facedown as she hung on for dear life. Rayne and Lyr were at the center of the camp, the watchful Arndell brothers close behind, when the two women arrived. Lyr had been talking with General Merin about plans to track down and defeat what was left of Ciro’s Own, and Trystan Arndell had gladly joined that discussion. They were all close enough to hear the mighty swish of Keelia’s wings, as well as the curses of the woman on the Queen’s back.

 

‹ Prev