“What do you suggest?” Lyr asked sharply.
“Trust your heart,” his mother responded quickly, a touch of warmth in her voice. “Trust your strength and your integrity and your mind as well, but most of all, you must trust your heart. It will guide you.”
FOR MONTHS RAYNE HAD BEEN CHAINED IN THE CELLAR with no time for styling her hair and putting on pretty clothes. After Lyr had rescued her, they’d traveled almost constantly, with even the quickest bath a true luxury.
She’d been well cared for since coming to the palace, and on this evening the emperor had sent not one but three maids to assist her. As in days past, he had ordered her not to inquire as to Lyr’s whereabouts, not to so much as mention his name. She was to be pampered, and she was not to give a moment’s thought to any man. Easier said than done. For all she knew, Lyr had ridden away from the palace as soon as the dagger was buried!
Much as she hated that idea, she had grudgingly come to agree with Devlyn on that point. If Lyr rode away from her now, then he had never loved her and she’d lost nothing.
So why was her stomach currently lodged in her throat?
Her hair was washed and styled, and though she’d suggested that she could prompt a garden plant to flower, Devlyn had insisted that jewels were more appropriate for tonight’s celebration. One of the maids had positioned a sparkling emerald adornment in her short hair. The bath was luxurious, warm and scented with rose oil. The dress they had provided was made of a fabric she had never seen before, one which sparkled green and gold at once, and which clung to her form in a way which revealed more than it disguised.
It even clung to her belly and surprisingly tender breasts in a way that told her it was not her imagination that a bulge was forming there. A child, the child Gwyneth had promised her, was already growing inside her. Lyr’s child, though she did not wish to tell him of its existence until he had decided whether or not she was worth fighting for.
One of the maids applied cosmetics to her face, but not much. Rayne’s eyes were lined, and a touch of color was added to her lips.
When they were finished with her, all the girls smiled widely, pleased with their efforts. Together they led Rayne to a mirror and posed her before it, and for a moment she did not recognize herself.
Her breasts looked too large in this dress, and she did not look entirely like herself with the dark liner beneath her eyes. The hairstyle…she found the new hairstyle oddly appealing, and the jewel there was eye-catching without being too ornate. She supposed it would do.
Rayne had already decided that she was not going to follow Devlyn’s plan, not exactly. Lying did not come easily to her, and she could not bring herself to play games with the man she loved. But in many ways the new emperor was right in suggesting caution where Lyr was concerned.
Even if she was Fynnian’s daughter, she deserved to spend her life with a man who loved her.
19
THE PROPHESY OF THE FIRSTBORN HAD BEEN FULFILLED, but the duties of those who had been called were not yet complete. Sian and Ariana had agreed to remain in the palace for a few months, in order to help the rediscovered twins Jahn and Alixandyr learn what was expected of them. The ministers and priests a new emperor might normally turn to for assistance had either escaped or been killed. Some would return, when news of the victory spread. Others would need to be replaced by those who had proven their worth in the war, but that rebuilding would take months.
Keelia and Joryn were anxious to return home to the Mountains of the North, but they had decided to remain in Arthes until Queen Mother Juliet and her husband Ryn—Keelia’s parents—reached the capital city. Then they, along with those Anwyn soldiers who had joined in the fight, would return home to begin the rejoining of their people—Anwyn and Caradon.
The prison on Level Twelve was nearly filled to capacity with traitors, thieves, and a handful of Ciro’s Own who had survived. It was thought inevitable that the few remaining soldiers of Ciro’s army would have to be executed. There could be no redemption for the soulless.
One particularly important prisoner had been caught as she’d attempted to flee the capital city. Many people recognized her as one of Ciro’s closest companions. Some days she referred to herself as Diella, but on other days she insisted her name was Lilia. There were a few in the palace who demanded that she be put to death immediately, but others were understandably squeamish about executing a woman who was with child—no matter what nature of child she might carry. The woman remained in Level Twelve, hysterical, perhaps mad, and oddly demanding for a prisoner.
Lyr was very glad the woman’s fate was not in his hands.
There were those who expected bad blood between the brothers, those who expected a struggle for power. But while they had experienced or heard of Sebestyen and Arik’s ways, they did not know the ways of these boys who had been taught to stand together. That’s exactly what they did. Jahn and Alix—Devlyn and Trystan—they stood together as their mother had taught them.
Lyr had reluctantly agreed to remain in the palace and attend the emperor’s coronation festivities before beginning the journey home. It seemed he would be making that journey alone. As much as his mother claimed to hate this palace, she insisted upon remaining until the traveling party from which Keelia had collected her in such an unusual, winged manner arrived in Arthes. She wished to say a proper farewell to her sisters, since it might be awhile before the Fyne family found the time for another reunion, and in a rare moment of vulnerability, Isadora Hern had confessed that she already missed her husband terribly and could not bear to travel toward home without him.
Though Lyr had accepted the invitation when it had come to him, in truth he had never cared much for formal celebrations of any type. He occasionally endured the festivities in the Tryfynian King’s court because it was expected of him, as Prince of Swords, but he had never enjoyed meaningless chatter or shrill music, which always came with the expectation that he would dance.
But tonight he attended the emperor’s celebration. He might’ve made excuses and waited until morning to present himself to Rayne and ask her about travel plans, but in truth he did not trust Emperor Jahn or the way the ruler looked at the Earth Goddess who so obviously impressed him.
As in Tryfyn, the women present had taken extra efforts to make themselves beautiful. Thanks to Ciro’s gutting of the palace, there were few minister’s wives or imperial relations to lend beauty to the relatively small gathering. Ariana and Keelia and Lyr’s mother were present, as was the middle-aged wife of the Minister of Agriculture, a sturdy woman who had escaped the palace but had remained hidden in the city. She, her husband, and their daughter had returned soon after Ciro’s death.
And then there was Rayne, who was too beautiful for words. Literally. For a while after arriving in the warm, music-filled ballroom Lyr did not even approach her. He did not know what to say. For the first time in his life, he was anxious. It was not a welcome feeling.
The women who attended Emperor Jahn’s gala were all surrounded by attentive men. There were soldiers who had earned this celebration, the new emperor and his brother, as well as Sian, Joryn, and a handful of ministers who had rushed to the palace when it became known that Ciro had been defeated. Many of the ministers were less than thrilled to have Sebestyen’s sons in residence, but the twins were doing their best to charm them. One at a time. They were succeeding. Even those who had hated Sebestyen realized that his sons were better suited to this palace than a demon-possessed soul sucker.
Emperor Jahn also seemed intent on charming Rayne, Lyr noticed from the wall he had propped himself against. The man smiled too widely, winked too often, and touched her as if he had the right. True, he only touched Rayne on the elbow to guide her, or else he held her at a respectable distance as they danced, but still…he touched her.
When the emperor leaned in close and whispered in Rayne’s ear, Lyr pushed himself away from the wall and weaved past the revelers. It was time to get this over with, one way
or another. He had come to the celebration armed as if he were going into battle. In truth he would feel naked without his swords, and his position required him to be prepared for battle at all times. At least he no longer carried the blasted crystal dagger. A long sword hung to one side, a short sword to the other. A small dagger of steel housed in a leather sheath was strapped to his thigh.
He was well armed, and yet he felt oddly unprotected. Vulnerable in a way he had never experienced before.
As if she knew he was approaching, Rayne turned. She smiled at him, and then her smile faded away. He supposed his own expression did not invite grins or winks or flirtatious banter. If that was what Rayne wanted from a man, then he would be leaving her here. His stomach flipped over at the very idea.
“May I have a word?” he asked, his voice a touch too sharp.
“Of course.” With her short hair and the cosmetics which had been sparsely and finely applied, Rayne’s eyes looked larger than ever. They looked deeper, darker, more magical. They were the kind of eyes that could suck a man in if he allowed it.
The emperor did not move away from Rayne’s side, as one might expect in such a situation. Lyr gave the man a dismissive bow. The emperor ignored that broad hint. Was this new ruler a blind fool or an interfering scoundrel who had designs on a woman who did not belong to him?
Rayne turned to the emperor and placed a familiar hand on his arm. “It’s all right. Lyr and I need to talk, I suppose.”
“This is a celebration,” Emperor Jahn responded. “Your friend does not look at all festive.”
Rayne gave the man a smile which was too intimate for Lyr’s liking. “Festive or not, I would like a moment. Please.”
At the softly spoken please, the emperor nodded and turned away to offer his attentions to the woman he called Cousin Ariana.
“You look lovely,” Lyr said to Rayne as Ariana and the emperor walked away. No, he did not flirt and woo, but that didn’t mean he had to jump directly to the matter at hand. Besides, he spoke only the truth. She did look lovely, more lovely than he had imagined any woman could.
“Would you like to dance?” Rayne offered her hand, and Lyr knew he was supposed to take it. Soothing music filled the room, music without missed notes or the squeal of improperly played instruments.
“I don’t dance. Sorry.”
“Oh.” Her arm lowered slowly, and he could tell by the slight pucker of her lips and the cut of her eyes that she was disappointed.
Instead of dwelling on her obvious disenchantment, he plowed forward. “I have come to ask you what plans you might have, now that Ciro is dead and the demon is no longer a danger.”
“In truth, I have no plans.”
It was an honest enough answer, one which thankfully left him the opportunity to issue an invitation. “You are welcome to travel with me to Tryfyn. The Circle of Bacwyr is home to many fine wizards who would be happy to instruct you and assist you in learning all your talents.”
“That’s very kind of you. Devlyn…I mean, Emperor Jahn, has made a similar offer.”
Lyr’s jaw went hard. His teeth clenched. What did Rayne expect of him? Was he supposed to get down on his knees and beg her to stay with him? Was he supposed to vie with an emperor for her attentions? Many women played games with the men in their lives, he knew from observation. He had never expected that Rayne was of that type.
“What do you want?” he asked simply.
She hesitated, and then she said, “Honestly, Lyr, I don’t know.”
There had been many occasions when she’d sworn that she loved him, but the situations had been different than the one they now found themselves in. They had not known how much time they had left on this earth, whether or not they would succeed, whether or not anyone had a future. They had barreled forward as if each day was their last, and in truth it might’ve been. Now there was no rush.
They had all the time in the world.
“I leave for Tryfyn in the morning,” he said without emotion. “If you decide what you want before then, let me know.” With that he turned away, and as he walked away from Rayne he knew his mother had been right. He’d never had to fight for anything, and he didn’t know precisely how. Was Rayne worth fighting for? Of course she was. He had no need to worry or to rush. She was young. He was young. There was no longer any need for haste. If she did not ask if she could travel with him to Tryfyn, he would return to Arthes in the spring, and perhaps then…
Before Lyr reached the doorway, his feet grew heavy. So did his heart. Perhaps there was no need for haste, but months of waiting meant months of his life spent—wasted—without Rayne in it. He did not want to leave her here. He did not even want to spend another night without her beside him. The past few days had been torturous, and he was actually considering leaving her here until spring?
Yes, his mother had been right. Everything in life he cared about had come to him too easily, without sweat, without effort. His gift made defeat in battle all but impossible. That magical gift, combined with a lifetime of honing his skills as a swordsman, made failure almost impossible. Until now. Now, when it mattered more than ever before.
At the doorway Lyr stopped and turned to watch as Emperor Jahn moved once again to Rayne’s side. He knew what he had to do…and he also knew his swords would not help him tonight.
RAYNE SMILED AT THE EMPEROR, BUT IT WASN’T EASY. “You were wrong, it seems.”
“If you had followed my plan precisely, all would be as you wish it to be.”
“I couldn’t bring myself to lie to Lyr and tell him you’d asked me to be your…your…”
“Mistress, concubine, lover,” Devlyn supplied when she stumbled. “If you had taken my advice, your Prince of Swords would not have walked away from you so easily.”
“I don’t want him with a lie,” Rayne whispered.
She simply wanted to know that Lyr loved her, that he chose her…that he would fight for her if necessary. Not to save her life, but to claim her heart. It did not seem too much to ask for.
“You must’ve said something right,” Devlyn said with a half-smile. “He’s coming back.”
Rayne began to turn to see if the emperor was telling the truth or not, but he stopped her with firm hands on her shoulders. “Do not turn to watch,” he whispered. “Don’t allow him to realize that you stand here impatiently awaiting his return.”
Rayne smiled up at her friend and laid her hand on his arm. “I thank you for everything, but there will be no more false faces or less-than-honest words between me and the man I love. I know you mean well, but that cannot be my way.”
Devlyn gave her a dismayed shake of the head as he released his hold. “You two are perfectly suited, you know? Noble to a fault, both of you.”
“Thank you.”
“It was not a compliment,” the emperor muttered as Rayne turned about to see that Lyr was indeed striding toward her once again. The expression on his face was no more relaxed, no more filled with love or affection, than it had been when he’d left her standing here.
And then he moved close enough for her to see the fire in his eyes.
When he reached her, he did not so much as slow down or look at the emperor who stood so close. With grace and without any visible doubt, he dropped to one knee before her.
“Come with me,” Lyr said, his voice even and strong. “I don’t want to spend another minute of my life without you in it.”
Rayne’s heart caught in her throat, and she found herself surprised speechless. What had happened to bring about this change? A moment ago Lyr had very willingly walked away from her, and now…
“The Earth Goddess is going to remain here,” Devlyn interjected. Rayne tried to subtly shoo her friend away, but he either didn’t see the restrained motion or else he ignored her. She suspected the latter.
“No, she’s not.” Lyr caught her eye and held it. “Unless that’s what she truly wants. All her life she’s been told how to live, what to say and do, and even what to think.
She’ll have no more of that. I would never keep from her that which she most desires. The decision is hers, not mine and certainly not yours. What do you want, Rayne?”
“I told you minutes ago, I don’t know,” she said, and then she caught her breath and blurted. “But that’s not entirely true. I know very well what I want, I just don’t know if it’s possible.”
Lyr took her hand, and for a moment Rayne waited for the others in the room to go still, she waited for Lyr to use his gift to separate them from the rest of the world, to cut them off from all those who watched and listened. That didn’t happen. “I know what I want,” he said without hesitation. “I want you. It’s that simple, Rayne.”
She remembered her mother’s words, as well as Lyr’s assertion that he had no heart to give. “Will you give me the keeping of your heart?”
“You already have it.”
Devlyn, blast him, had to interfere again. “If you think I will allow you to ride off to Tryfyn with my Earth Goddess…”
Very smoothly, Lyr drew a short bladed sword and pointed the tip at the emperor. He did not rise or take his eyes from her, even as sentinels moved in to protect their ruler. People who were close enough to see the threatening move gasped. Ariana uttered a disgusted, “Lyr!” The music stopped, inexpertly and with a screeching of a shrill wind instrument.
Devlyn held the soldiers off with a lift of his hand. “You dare to threaten me?” Rayne wondered if the others heard the hint of teasing in his voice.
“Yes,” Lyr answered.
“Draw blood and there will be war.”
“Then I suggest you back away and leave us be. This does not concern you.”
Devlyn raised his eyebrows slightly. “Would you go to war over a woman, Prince of Swords?”
“If that woman is Rayne, yes,” Lyr responded. “Yes, I would.”
Out of the corner of her eye Rayne saw Lyr’s cousins and their men headed this way. Ariana did not looked pleased, but a smile touched Keelia’s golden eyes and the corners of her mouth. That good humor eased Rayne’s fears. Judging by the Anwyn Queen’s expression, all would be well tonight.
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