Kalena was pleased with herself and her new life. Occasionally, when she stopped and talked to Arrisa or Vertina in the street, she felt a distant pang of curiosity about what her life would have been like if she had chosen to follow their path. They, on the other hand, were quite pleased with their lives. The fortunes of women involved in trading were on the rise, thanks to certain changes that were being introduced by the Fire Whip. The fact that such changes were being instigated by Ridge’s wife was common knowledge.
But Kalena didn’t have any regrets. Her work as a talented Healer-in-training was already filling the strange void she had always sensed in herself. She knew instinctively she was at last doing what she had been born to do.
“There you are, Kalena.”
She glanced up to see her husband step away from the shaded walk that surrounded the garden and move out into the sunlight. He strode toward her along the path, a small book in his hand. He wasn’t smiling as he frequently did when he came across her in the garden. Instead, his golden eyes were serious.
“You’re home early, Ridge.” Kalena stood and lifted her face for his kiss while keeping her dirt stained hands away from his embroidered shirt. “I thought today was the day you had to attend the meeting of the Town Council.”
“It was. That’s over and done. I came home to show you this. I found it when I went through a chest of books in Quintel’s study this morning.”
She took the small, leatherbound volume without glancing at it. “What happened in the council meeting?”
“What I expected would happen. They gave me full control of the Sand trade route.”
“Ah,” Kalena said with a knowing smile. “The next thing you will get is a seat on the council. Mark my words. After that there will be no stopping you, my lord. You will have the financial resources and the political clout to forge a recognized Great House.”
“Possibly.” Ridge didn’t seem interested in her forecast of their future. “Kalena, this book is a record Quintel kept. It goes back for years. Long before I met him. Everything is in there. It tells how he first became fascinated with the Dawn Lord legends and tales of the Stones and the Keys. I read portions of it this afternoon. He describes how he used the Mathematics of Paradox to discover where the Dark Key was hidden, and he very casually notes all the men who died trying to retrieve it. He felt nothing for those men, Kalena. Whenever one was killed in that crevasse in the caves, he wrote off the death as though he had merely lost another tool.”
Kalena nodded sadly, glancing down at the book in her hand. “Everything he did was aimed at unlocking the power of the Keys, and, perhaps, finally the Stones. He cared about nothing and no one else. What have you done with the contents of his library, Ridge?”
Ridge ran a hand through his dark hair. “Many of the books can go to the various libraries maintained by the different guilds. The Healers’ Guild will pay a fortune to get possession of some of the volumes. But I’m not sure what to do with the dangerous ones that are in that chest. A few are actually written in the old language of the Dawn Lords. At least I think it’s their language. I can’t read it, but some of the letters remind me of the letters that were carved into the box that held the Dark Key. There is a vague similarity between the old language and our own. Perhaps that’s why we thought the writing on the boxes looked familiar. A part of me says I should destroy the old books, but something else within me resists the idea of destroying such knowledge. There may come a time, Kalena, when this world of ours has need of that knowledge.”
Kalena looked at him consideringly. “Every Great House has a few secrets,” she told him with a small smile. “And a few very heavy responsibilities. It’s possible those dangerous books are meant to be our House’s secret burden.”
Ridge gave her a sharp glance. “You think we should keep them?”
“We will lock them away. They will be handed down to our children and to our children’s children. Who knows how many generations may come and go before the books are needed? When that time comes, we must trust our descendants to do what is right. After all, they will carry within them the power of fire and ice, and they will have something else, something more important.”
Ridge watched her closely “What is that?”
“A sense of honor and duty. I cannot envision any of our descendants lacking either, can you? They will do whatever must be done when the time comes to use the books.”
Ridge smiled wearily. “I think you may be right.” The smile faded. “But that’s not what I came to show you.”
“What is it in this little book of Quintel’s that you want me to see?”
“The truth about what happened to the men of your House,” he said starkly. “Olara was right. Quintel had them killed.”
Kalena took a deep breath to steady herself. “Why?”
“Because they were refusing him access to a river route he wanted for his trading ventures. He notes that there were only two males left in the House of the Ice Harvest. The female members of the House, of course, didn’t matter to him. He decided it would be simple to get rid of the obstruction the House was causing.”
“Of course,” Kalena echoed softly. “So he had the men killed. Olara told the truth. I think I already knew that. If she had not been very certain of her facts, she would never have tried to kill. As it was, she felt she had no choice.” Her eyes were wide and questioning as she continued to stare at Ridge.
Ridge’s mouth tightened as he saw the way she was looking at him. He said with gritty pride, “I wasn’t the one Quintel used to kill your father and brother Kalena. I knew nothing about it. He would have known better than to assign me such a task. I did many things for him, but I never set ambushes designed to make it appear that honorable, innocent men died by accident. I swear it on my honor.”
“I know that, Ridge.”
He continued to study her carefully for a while, and then he visibly relaxed. “You believe me.”
“I have always believed you,” she said. “If you had been responsible for the death of my father and brother, you would have told me so long ago.”
“Yes.”
She held the book out to him. “I think you’d better lock this up with the old books of the Dawn Lords. There is nothing in this diary for either of us now, is there?”
Slowly, he took the small volume from her. “No,” Ridge agreed. “There’s nothing in it for us.” He glanced around the garden. “You’ve been working hard.”
“My first medicinal herb garden,” Kalena said with satisfaction. “In a few months this court will be blooming. I just finished putting in the xanthria seeds.”
“What’s xanthria?” Ridge asked with idle curiosity.
“ A very useful herb that is used to treat men who have a particular physical problem.” Kalena smiled mischievously.
“What type of physical problem?”
“One that prevents them from properly carrying out their husbandly duties in the sleeping pallet.”
He grinned. “You must be sure to keep a good supply on hand for me in case I ever become lax in such duties.”
“Somehow,” Kalena murmured, stepping into his arms, “I can’t envision you ever suffering from such a problem.”
“Not as long as I have you in my pallet,” he agreed huskily as he pulled her close.
Kalena awoke very early one morning in late spring and knew without lighting the Sand brazier that the time had arrived. She lay quietly beside Ridge, thinking about the past and the future. A serene, secret, womanly smile played about her mouth as she contemplated the richness of her life. And then another contraction warned her that the newest member of the family was eager to enter the world.
Kalena got out of the pallet, moving a little awkwardly because of her temporary roundness, and slipped into the robe that she kept near the hearth. Then she calmly made a mug of hot yant tea and went to wake her husband.
Ridge turned on his side, looking up at her with sleepy eyes as she reached down to
hand him his tea.
“It’s early,” he remarked with a lazy yawn. “Come back to bed.” He patted the covers invitingly.
“Not this morning, Ridge.” Kalena smiled. “Your son or daughter is on the way.”
“What!” He came up out of the sheets and blankets like a sintar being withdrawn from its sheath. The mug of tea went flying. “What in the name of the Stones are you doing running around making yant tea? Get back into the pallet. I’ll send for the Healer who’s been tending you. Where’s that pot of herbs you’re supposed to drink?” He dashed across the room, stark naked, and yanked the cord that would summon the servants. “Didn’t you hear me, Kalena? I said get back into the pallet.”
Kalena’s smile broadened. “Yes Ridge,” she said meekly. Then another contraction hit her and her smile grew shaky. She touched her rounded stomach and made her way very carefully to the pallet.
“Dammit, Kalena.” Ridge was at her side instantly, easing her down. “You should never have gotten out of bed. You should have awakened me immediately.”
“I love you, Ridge,” she said serenely.
Ridge’s golden eyes blazed down at her. “I love you, too, Kalena. More than my life. You are my life. You know that, don’t you?”
“I think so,” she whispered. “But it’s nice to hear it every so often.” She gasped as the next wave of contractions struck. “Maybe we’d better discuss this later. I think you’d better hurry and send for the Healer, my love.”
Ridge was already at the door, yelling down the hall to the sleepy servants who were on the run to answer the Fire Whip’s summons. Everyone acknowledged that Ridge’s temper had undergone a great change for the better since he’d taken a wife, but no one in his right mind took foolish chances by deliberately provoking him.
A few hours later, Ridge and Kalena’s son came into the world, making his irritation with the whole event known to everyone within hearing distance. It was obvious from the start that the babe had inherited his father’s fiery temper. It was also soon discovered that his mother had the power to soothe the son just as easily as she could the father.
Kalena awoke from the deep sleep into which she had fallen following the birth and found Ridge nearby. He was gazing down into the cradle that stood beside the pallet, examining his son in detail.
Kalena turned her head on the pillow “Do you approve, my lord?”
Ridge tore his fascinated gaze from the infant and walked quickly over to the pallet. He dropped down beside it, taking Kalena’s hand in his. His expression was intense. “You have given me more than I had any right to expect,” he said with husky emotion. “Your love and now a son. I swear I will love and care for you as long as I live, Kalena.”
“I’m glad you’re happy, Ridge,” she said softly.
“Happy,” he repeated, shaking his head slightly. “I don’t have the words to tell you how happy you have made me. I never knew what happiness was until I met you. What about you, Kalena? Any regrets?”
She smiled at the anxiety in his eyes and shook her head. “None,” she said truthfully. “We are bound together, you and I. How could I be content without you?”
He leaned forward to kiss her tenderly, and when he lifted his head he was smiling wryly. “I almost forgot.” He reached for a leather box that was sitting on a nearby table. “These came from the jeweler’s today. I was going to surprise you with them tonight, but you got your surprise in first.” He opened the box to reveal three House bands nestled in sarsilk. Two were adult sized. One was for the wrist of an infant.
Kalena reached out wordlessly and picked up the smaller of the two adult bands. Inscribed with exquisite precision on the metal was the emblem of a new Great House. The symbol for fire was interwoven with the symbol for ice. Beneath the symbols were inscribed the words: House of the Crystal Flame. After that came the engraved seal of official recognition from the Hall of Balance.
Kalena slipped the House band onto her wrist. Her eyes met Ridge’s as she spoke the old, formal words. “I accept the honor of being the Lady of the House of the Crystal Flame, and I accept also the responsibility that goes with it. I will be loyal to the House and its lord. Our children shall be raised knowing that the honor of the House is theirs to keep, protect and defend. I seal this vow with my life.”
Ridge took up his own wrist band and slipped it over his arm. “My life, my fortune and my loyalty are bound forever to you, my lady. You are the heart and soul of this House. I will love, keep and defend you as long as I live, and so doing I will be preserving this House.” Then his face broke into a smile.
“There has always been more than honor and duty between us, hasn’t there, Fire Whip?” Kalena asked, her gaze as warm as her husband’s.
“From the start,” he agreed. “We are bound by many things, you and I. But nothing is as strong as the love that holds us together.”
He bent his head to take her lips in a kiss that conveyed the full Spectrum of that love. Kalena responded completely, knowing the fires of their passion would warm them the rest of their lives.
* * *
Keep reading for a special excerpt from Shield’s Lady
another novel by Jayne Ann Krentz
Excerpt from SHIELD’S LADY
One
THE unconscious man stirred slightly and groaned. He did not open his eyes and therefore was unable to appreciate the flamboyant luxury that surrounded him.
He lay on the polished marble floor of an ornately appointed room. A high, heavily embossed ceiling arched overhead. The golden glow of the vapor lamps filtered through intricately beveled glass fixtures. A long, narrow table of polished black stone dominated the small chamber. The table was curved, forming a semicircle.
Five people sat around the table. Two of them, the older man and woman, were obviously the matriarch and patriarch of the clan. The other two, a handsome young man and an equally attractive young woman, were clearly sister and brother. The distinctive combination of silvery blond hair and night-dark eyes that marked the father also characterized his offspring. The mother was also blond and dark-eyed, although her coloring came from a different set of genes. None of the four could be described as petite. The Avylyns were a tall, well-built clan, the men broad-shouldered and the women full-bodied.
The fifth person present was another young woman. She was quite slender and far more delicately built than the others; she also lacked their regal height, much to her private disgust. There were times when she would have found the sheer presence that being tall and statuesque conveyed very useful. She had however, found ways to compensate.
Her neatly arranged brown-gold hair and wide, hazel eyes also set her apart. But even if her looks and coloring had not been radically different, her attire would have made it clear she was not a member of the Avylyn Clan.
Sariana Dayne was discreetly dressed in a conservative, dark green outfit that featured a strictly tailored jacket and a simple, flared skirt that ended just above her ankles. The snug little jacket emphasized her slenderness and its crisp, high collar framed her throat. Beneath the hem of the skirt dark stockings and low-heeled slippers of soft leather were visible. She wore no jewelry.
The other two women at the table were wearing modishly cut, low-necked gowns in vivid gemstone hues with billowing sleeves and full skirts draped over large bustles. Their high-heeled slippers were made of heavily embroidered satin and their hair was arranged in towering confections of cascading curls.
The women’s jewelry was magnificent. The Avylyns were, after all, a clan of jewelers. Fragile links of gold set with colorful stones were entwined in their hair. Several pairs of earrings vied for space on each pair of earlobes. The Avylyn women had their ears pierced in so many places Sariana had often thought it remarkable that there was any skin left there at all. Their ample bosoms were adorned with wide collars fashioned of gold and silver and two kinds of rare quartz. They had rings on almost every finger.
The men were equally gaudy in appearance. T
hey wore brightly colored doublets, scarlet tights and shirts with enough fabric in the slashed sleeves to sail a ship. They wore nearly as many jewels as the Avylyn women.
Sariana had noticed lately that Bryer, the handsome eldest son, had adopted the new fashion of wearing a vividly decorated codpiece. He had one on tonight. The truth was, she probably couldn’t have failed to notice it if she’d tried. Codpieces were not easily overlooked, especially ones set with semiprecious stones.
The Avylyns had flair, Sariana observed once again with secret amusement. There was not a dull one in the bunch.
The members of the Avylyn Clan tended toward the dramatic in their choice of clothing just as they did in everything else. After a year of living in the household, Sariana was accustomed to her employers’ dazzling attire and volatile ways. She had even grown quite fond of them, much to her surprise. They could be exasperating but they were also rather fascinating, just like everything else here in the western provinces.
The man on the floor groaned again, interrupting Sariana’s thoughts. One booted foot shifted slightly on the marble.
“Excellent,” Sariana said as she looked down at the man sprawled on the floor. “We’re in luck. He’s not dead.” She kept her voice light and cheerful, trying not to show the relief she felt. Never let the client know you were nervous was one of her mottoes. She sent up a silent thank you to whatever unseen forces looked out for business consultants. At least she wasn’t going to have to worry about explaining a dead man to the authorities. Her palms were still damp from the anxiety she had been hiding.
“Might be better for all of us if he were dead,” Bryer Avylyn said gloomily. “He’s going to be very angry when he wakes up.”
Sariana glared at the striking scion of the Avylyn Clan. “Don’t be ridiculous. What happened was an accident. I’m sure this Shield person, or whatever it is you call him, will understand that when we explain what happened. How could we know that your Aunt Perla’s recipe for a mild hypnotic drug would have this reaction on him? It should have done nothing more than put him into a light trance. It was supposed to make him friendly and amenable. It wasn’t supposed to make him pass out.”
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