Blackstone

by Shea Godfrey

  “I am thinking we must take care of what is most important at the moment.”

  “Which is?”

  “Baiting the trap for my brother. And keeping in mind, of course, the sort of king the sons of the Jade Palace are used to dealing with.”

  Owen stared at her, the fingers of his right hand tapping softly upon the tabletop as he did so. After a bit of time he glanced at his daughter, and she did not turn from him. “And I am thinking,” he said, unable to keep the deep spark of affection from his eyes, “that perhaps you are in over your head with such a woman, Darrius…just as I have always been.”

  Darry’s left eyebrow went up slowly, a mirror image of her mother’s infamous gesture.

  Owen let out a bark of sudden laughter and slammed a fist upon the table, those around him startled as it shook from the blow. “I may be the only one that look doesn’t work on,” he growled and pushed to his feet. “Open the throne room and ready what’s left of my guard, Gris. Send Colonel Briggs to bring the priests of Gamar, and find me a bird that will answer to Captain Biro in Baylon Town. I want the riders of the Thirteenth and those from the Green Hills to be diverted there. I want them to bring the Baylon Kingsmen home to Blackstone when they ride through those gates.”

  “It will slow them down. They won’t reach us until midday tomorrow at that pace.”

  “That’s exactly what I want.” He strode to the doors that led to the Great Hall, and despite his limp, he moved with vigor. “And find me my bloody crown.”

  Jessa watched Owen leave the hall, and then looked up and found Darry’s eyes. “Are you in over your head, Akasha?”

  Darry’s smile was slow and certain. “Absolutely.”

  Jessa considered her lover’s answer. “I’m not sure how I should feel about that.”

  “How do you feel so far?”

  “Rather lovely, for the most part.”

  “Aside from the general mayhem, betrayal, and blood loss, I’d have to agree with you.”

  Jessa could feel her smile reach deep in her eyes. Darry’s humor was completely unexpected and yet most welcome. “Has your daughter always been so splendidly cavalier, my Queen?” she asked, well aware that they were not yet alone.

  Cecelia’s chair scraped upon the floor as she pushed to her feet. She stepped about Owen’s empty seat and moved for the doors with an amused expression and warmth in her eyes. “Yes, and I’ve just realized that it’s no longer my problem.”

  Jessa let out a breath of laughter. “Thank you, my Lady.”

  A moment of silence passed between them before Darry took a small step and the backs of her fingers brushed against Jessa’s cheek in a tender manner. “Cavalier or not,” Darry whispered, “I am yours to command.”

  Jessa took Darry’s hand in both of hers and turned it over, her touch delicate as she opened Darry’s fingers and placed a sensuous kiss upon her palm.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jessa followed Cecelia about the tower chamber and felt more at home than she ever had before. Not even her terraced rooms in the Jade Palace had offered such an overwhelming sense of belonging. Though she and Radha had made those forgotten rooms into an oasis of kindness within the brutal desert of Bharjah’s presence, she had never felt truly safe. The word home had always been something of a conundrum for her, and though she had thought she understood its varied manifestations, she realized now she had known nothing at all. She had never felt this way, not even in the chambers she had come to love within Blackstone Keep.

  Situated on the northern edge of the gardens upon the very edge of the maze, the tower structure was austere, though it complemented the aesthetics of the vast paradise.

  “Years ago,” Cecelia explained as they moved down the stairs that curved along the west wall, “this place was used to host the architects and gardeners hired by King Boris to help him build the maze, and even the great sorcerer Sebastian stayed here for a time. It’s his name that stuck. But it’s been abandoned for some time.”

  Upon the upper level, a bedroom of massive proportions had been arranged. There was a dressing room with deep closets, and a washroom with a tub that might rival a fountain. A feather bed big enough for several people stood beside the window facing the maze, fresh linens, pillows, and quilted covers upon it. There were water pulleys and contraptions the likes of which Jessa had never encountered before, and the mere thought of what she had yet to find made her laugh inwardly with unexpected joy.

  Cecelia pointed to one of the windows by the tower’s main door. “The maze has a will of its own, as you’ll see. If the gardeners did not trim the ivy back, this entire place would be swallowed by the hedgerow and disappear completely.”

  The first level of the tower contained a workshop, the circular chamber filled with shelves, closets, and several workbenches. There were two separate fireplaces already prepared and a washroom, as well as a place for contemplation beside the hearth within the southern curve of the wall. Deep-cushioned chairs and a wide divan with pillows on it seemed to wait patiently to fulfill their purpose. There was a kitchen of sorts, with a working pump and stove, and the larder had been stocked with provisions.

  “Your things can be brought here within the hour,” Cecelia said as Jessa ran her hand along one of the workbenches, “as well as Darry’s, from her loft in the barracks.”

  Jessa smiled at her. “It’s very clean for an abandoned building.”

  “Yes, well, being the queen does have some advantages.”

  “Does it?” Jessa asked, and there was a slight tease in her tone.

  Cecelia’s eyes lit up. “Occasionally, yes.”

  “I do not know what Darry’s plans are, my Lady. I will go where she goes,” Jessa said, eyeing the shelves to her right. There were scrolls there, some piled three rolls high, and she felt a small thrill of excitement. It was early evening, and though she knew it to be true, it was hard to believe just that morning they had fought and won their battle against Serabee El-Khan and his warriors.

  “Well, whatever your plans may be, they won’t happen overnight. You will need a place to stay, and I have it on good authority that my daughter would rather trip over the edge of a cliff than spend another night beneath her father’s roof.”

  “Did she say that?”

  Cecelia made a face of mild displeasure. “I believe something with a bit more carnage was involved, but I understood her point.”

  “When your son returns, he will not like it,” Jessa warned. “Will I be made to disappear into the night when he throws his tantrum? Will his men come knocking at the door, or will they sneak in and drag me from my lover’s arms?”

  Cecelia said nothing.

  “Even though I was never meant to be his, or perhaps because of that, while I lie beneath my lover in the throes of our passion, should I be looking over her shoulder?”

  Cecelia laughed unexpectedly, the sound filled with more than a touch of bitterness. “By the gods, girl, you have a wicked tongue when you want one.”

  Jessa’s right hand lifted just a bit and the wood in the hearth by the chairs stirred with movement. The cut timber upon the brazier burst to life as it caught fire. “And I am not the meek and mild Aidan McKenna, either,” Jessa declared, the name of Darry’s former lover a bit uncomfortable upon her tongue.

  Cecelia lifted her eyebrow in a slow arch and then walked around the chairs before the fire. She set a hand upon the round stones of the hearth and leaned over. Her right hand pulled the chain and the flue snapped open with a rusty sound. “It’s quite possible he’s noticed that fact, Jessa,” Cecelia replied with an acerbic tone not unlike Radha’s. “Although if he hasn’t, you have my permission to let him know it before Darrius does.”

  “Perhaps I shall,” Jessa agreed, no longer content to be thought of as the shy, foreign princess, especially where Malcolm was concerned. She did not want Darry to stab him full of holes, either, fairly certain that this was the queen’s main source of concern.

  “And what
makes you think that Aidan was meek?” Cecelia inquired, her tone replaced by genuine curiosity. “Or mild, for that matter?”

  Jessa leaned her hip against the workbench. “They were lovers, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then she must have been. No woman who has known my Akasha’s touch, or her eyes in the dark of night, would ever give her up. There is no price too high. It would always be paid.”

  “Just so,” Cecelia acknowledged. “Though I would say she was more quiet than meek.”

  “It was not a slight.”

  Cecelia’s eyes were warm. “I know that, actually. You’re not wrong.”

  Jessa smiled, Cecelia clearly caught off guard. “I love this place, my Lady, I love everything about it, and I have never loved a place before.”

  Cecelia nodded. “I thought you might.”

  “I believe Darry will like it, as well, though she may complain at first.”

  “She used to play here as a girl.”

  “Here?”

  “Yes, when I forbid her the maze.”

  “She did not listen to you.”

  “So it would appear. She is the panther from the maze, is she not?” Cecelia asked, though from her tone she had already made up her mind.

  She had been more patient than Jessa had predicted. “Yes, you have met before.”

  “Aye, I knew it as soon as I saw her.” The queen’s eyes were dark but accepting of the knowledge. “They are Cha-Diah.”

  “It is an ancient majik,” Jessa explained with care, not all that surprised that Cecelia knew the phrase. “Your daughter is aptly named, for the Gold Panther’s blood runs within her veins. They are joined together.”

  “Her temper,” Cecelia acknowledged.

  “Yes, that is one part of it. When the anger comes upon her, it is just a facet of that power. She has no control over its presence, though she has learned to channel it. She is like a cornered animal when this happens, and anyone in her path that provokes her further is right to be afraid.”

  “Her fever, when her eyes changed.”

  “It was the majik stirring in her blood.” Jessa moved from the workbench and gestured to one of the chairs beside the fire. “Sit down, my Lady.”

  Cecelia did so in a tired manner as Jessa sat in the opposite chair. “I will introduce you and you will see. Hinsa shares her eyes, only they are opposite.”

  Cecelia stared at her, her shoulders pulled in just a bit. “Her eyes were blue once, like her brother Wyatt. They had the same eyes. And I remember that damn cat, with green eyes, and by the gods, how I wanted to scream out. And there was Darry, just pulling at her. Blessed Gamar.”

  “Hinsa still likes to play.”

  “She was just a girl.”

  “I think it was very hard for her as a child, you are right,” Jessa said. “I cannot imagine the strength it took to control her blood. When her majik is high, my Lady, she is indeed wild.”

  “Yes.”

  They were quiet for several minutes, and when Jessa whispered in Lyonese, Cecelia moved gently from her thoughts. The older woman looked utterly exhausted. “Yes, it’s very peaceful here, Jessa.” She looked about the workroom, more than comfortable within her plush chair. “I hadn’t thought it would be, for some reason.”

  Jessa spoke once again in Lyonese, the words of her homeland more of a relief to her than she thought they would be. It was not easy to constantly move within the confines of a foreign language. Only in her dreams was her native tongue present, and it was a blessing to her.

  “Yes, I’ll have them bring your things, and Darry’s.”

  Jessa smiled. “My Lady?”

  Cecelia took a deep breath, blinked, and met Jessa’s eyes. “Yes, child?”

  “Thank you for your kindness.”

  “Thank you for saving my husband’s life.”

  Jessa was truly startled by the statement.

  Cecelia smiled. “He likes you…quite a lot, actually.”

  Jessa had no response, her cheeks hot. “He is my king, my Lady.” She frowned. “That is, you must not thank me for such a thing.”

  Cecelia chuckled and the sound was filled with warmth. “I can thank you for whatever I damn well please, girl. I’m the queen, remember?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jessa got up from the bed and walked in her bare feet across the worn wooden floor. She wore one of Darry’s shirts, but that was all, as the cool summer breeze drifted through the tower’s bedroom chamber. Her black braids and curls fell about her shoulders and down her back, and the hem of the white shirt brushed her thighs.

  Darry sat in one of the huge chairs before the banked hearth, her arms upon the rests with her hands hanging over the sides. Her feet were bare and her clothes were untucked and loose, her hair scattered gold against the lush red color of the chair cushions. She fought to keep her eyes open and Jessa knew she was utterly drained. They both were, but Darry obviously struggled against it with every fiber of her being. Darry’s sword lay across her knees at the ready, though Jessa was uncertain if it would do her any good should the worst of her thoughts suddenly come true.

  Their things had been brought to the tower as the queen had promised, and it had taken but another hour or so to arrange them into some semblance of order. Jessa had found Darry’s Boys useful to have at her disposal, in any number of ways—there were trunks and chests of clothes, medicines, tapestries, and scrolls that needed to be settled. But those details could be dealt with at a later time.

  Jessa stepped to the chair and Darry looked up.

  Jessa lifted the sword from Darry’s knees, held it out to the side, and let it drop. The weapon’s tip sank into the floor, and the sword stood tall, swaying slightly.

  “I need that,” Darry argued, in no position to back up her words.

  Jessa climbed upon the chair with a smooth step and straddled Darry’s hips, her knees sinking into the cushion as she balanced above Darry’s thighs. “No, you don’t.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Jessa took Darry’s face in her hands and kissed her, Darry’s lips supple and pliant in response to her advances. “I love you, Darry,” she whispered.

  Darry’s touch burned with heat against the skin of Jessa’s thighs, and Jessa sat with care. “I was so scared for you,” Darry admitted.

  “I know, my love.” Jessa undid the buttons of Darry’s tunic. “As I was, for you.”

  “Sebastian’s Tower…”

  “Yes,” Jessa agreed and smiled. “I like it very much, Akasha.” She opened Darry’s shirt and slowly trailed her hands down her lover’s chest as Darry caught her breath in reaction. Jessa tasted her neck and Darry’s nipples became hard beneath her palms.

  “You’re so beautiful,” Darry whispered.

  “I know why you can’t sleep.” Jessa grasped Darry’s nipples and twisted slightly, just enough to elicit the response she desired. Darry’s hips moved upward and her head pushed back into the cushion as Jessa leaned forward. “I know why, Akasha.”

  “Jess.”

  “I know, baby.” Her touch was like a breeze, slight and soothing as she removed Darry’s shirt and exposed her upper body. She ran her hands upon the bruises and the marks of battle, and she could feel Darry’s strength lying in wait, dormant beneath the soft fatigue. It roused Jessa’s passion, and she felt her love in the pit of her stomach, where it flipped over and burned its way downward in a delicious quiver. She was hard and wet and this was all it took, just the feel of Darry’s skin beneath her hands. Her flesh began to ache, heavy with want.

  She moved her touch above the bandaged wound on Darry’s left side and could feel the heat beneath the gauze and poultice.

  Jessa could actually taste Darry’s majik, her Cha-Diah energy potent and openly present upon her body. She understood that Darry was using Hinsa’s strength to stay awake, and she knew why. If Darry were to sleep, as she had the night before, what terrible fate might await them when she awoke? She could see it in Darry’s eyes
and she could feel it in the way Darry watched her. All day she had felt it, though it was only when Darry refused to join her in bed that Jessa knew what must be done.

  “Where is Hinsa?”

  Darry’s face was flushed with her desire, her heartbeat quick at the base of her throat. “Sleeping.”

  “You must let her wake up now.” Jessa undid the buttons of Darry’s trousers with a light touch, and her fingers slipped beneath the edge of Darry’s undergarment. “She must hunt—do not deny her so, love.”

  “I will kill them all.”

  Jessa kissed her. “Hush, my sweet.”

  “If they come for you again, I will kill them.”

  “Yes, I know, love.”

  Darry sucked in her breath at the touch upon her sex.

  “You will never lose me, Akasha. Such a thing is not possible.” Her fingers massaged Darry’s arousal, and Darry’s hips lifted as the muscles of her buttocks and legs tightened. “We are safe here,” Jessa promised, and her tongue tasted Darry’s upper lip. “I have warded our lovely tower against all intruders.” Her fingers were wet with Darry’s spirit as they moved upon her flesh, and Darry took hold of Jessa’s waist, her grip firm as Jessa arched closer. “You must come to bed with me now.” She opened her mouth against Darry’s, her lover’s soft, exquisite cry captured and taken in. “Do you not want to lie with me?”

  “Yes.”

  Jessa slipped a careful finger inside, and Darry’s hips pushed against the touch. Jessa’s flesh throbbed in response and her legs tightened upon Darry’s hips as she slid a second finger inside. “Come for me, Akasha,” she urged softly, her lips beside Darry’s ear. She cupped Darry’s sex and lifted her touch deeper inside, the heel of her palm hard against Darry’s flesh.

  Darry’s muscles seized and she thrust upward as she spent, crying out as her hands pulled upon Jessa’s shirt. Jessa’s mind flooded instantly with the sweet miracle of it all, though she managed to whisper her spell regardless.

  Jessa kissed her and felt Darry’s majik ebb and flow away, Darry forced to release the iron grip she held upon her Cha-Diah power. Her warrior’s body eased and her muscles surrendered with a glorious shudder.