Dissident (Forbidden Things Book 1)

by Nikki Mccormack

  She spotted Jayce watching them from the entry of the dining hall, his face a purpling cloud of anger. “Do you think so?” She became aware of Yiloch’s hand still holding hers and jerked away.

  Rather than taking offense at her flippancy, Adran’s eyes lit with amusement. He grinned.

  Yiloch glanced at Jayce. “Adran, perhaps you could inform Lord Jayce that I’m only dancing with her. I’m not looking to get engaged.”

  “I could take her place.” Adran winked suggestively.

  Indigo choked back a startled laugh. “You seem a decent man, my lord. Be wary of associating with Lord Eldrian overmuch lest he sully your name irreparably.”

  Adran chuckled. “I like her, my lord. Perhaps we should take her home with us.”

  Yiloch frowned at him. “Lord Jayce.”

  “Yes.” Adran smiled with the patience of an old friend. “Perhaps he’d appreciate more wine.”

  “I’m certain he would,” Yiloch replied.

  As Adran walked away, Yiloch looked down at her with his arresting silver-blue eyes. “About that second dance?”

  She almost turned away, but to touch him again, even for a few moments...

  She nodded, trying to ignore the vague sense of doom that accompanied the gesture. This time they simply danced and neither spoke. The urge to run her fingers through his hair, to step close and savor his warmth, plagued her. Her longing reflected in his eyes and it comforted her to know she didn’t face that torment alone. He squeezed her hand, his other hand warm against her skin. She closed her eyes, following his lead and remembering the first time she had seen him. When she opened her eyes, his smile made her pulse quicken. The dance was sweet suffering. It lasted too long and ended too soon.

  When they stopped, he leaned close. “You look magnificent.”

  She stepped away reluctantly. “You should find someone else to dance with.”

  “Yes.”

  Every fiber of her being objected when she walked away. Once clear of the dance floor, she stopped and scanned for Jayce. No good could come of giving him time to get more upset.

  Someone held a glass of wine up next to her in offering. Turning, she met Lord Adran’s eyes and accepted the glass with a grateful smile.

  “Thank you, my lord. What have you done with my fiancé?”

  He gazed out at the dance floor, brows pinching together. “I had Ian make a special drink for him. He’ll sleep it off by morning.”

  Her stomach did a flip. “Ian? He’s the creator?”

  Adran stared at her. “Yilo…” He caught himself. “Lord Eldrian didn’t tell me you could do more than heal,” he whispered, confirming that Yiloch had spoken of her.

  She bit the inside of her lip. She wasn’t managing secrecy well. The evening had disrupted her composure and all she could focus on was the heady sensation of knowing Yiloch told someone about her. He hadn’t left and forgotten her.

  “Thank you for handling Jayce.” Whatever they’d done to him, she could only hope she wouldn’t pay for it later.

  Adran inclined his head. “You’re welcome, my lady.”

  She sipped her wine and watched Yiloch lead another partner onto the floor. The woman blushed profusely, grinning like a fool. For all the prejudices they had against his people, the hypocritical vixens were happy to dance and flirt with a handsome Lyran nobleman.

  “He does make a stir among the women,” she commented, unable to hide irritation.

  “Predictably. His is the purest Lyran blood. He’s far more beautiful than any Caithin man could ever hope to be.”

  “Oh?” She raised an eyebrow.

  “Come view the wildlife with me.” He offered her his arm.

  With a giggle at his choice of words, she accepted, letting him lead her around the perimeter of the room. She enjoyed his manner and the way he had started to address the prince informally hinted of a close relationship, which intrigued her. They went to a half circle of plush chairs in one corner of the ballroom and sat so they had a clear view of the dancers, especially Yiloch and the woman he swirled about with almost unnatural grace.

  “Look at the other men here.” Adran leaned close and gestured to the dancers with a finger. “Does any one of them come close to him in elegance? In presence?”

  Obliging, she scanned the room. Caplin, one of the more handsome men there, had a strong presence, but the prince even overshadowed him. She shook her head.

  “A pureblooded Lyran man, especially of royal lineage, is like a peacock: beautiful, bold, and in this setting, exotic as well. No other man stands a chance.”

  She watched Yiloch. Beautiful without question, but masculine power and self-assurance made it acceptable for him to be beautiful. The prince, truly a peacock among jays, appeared entirely at ease with the contrast. Perhaps he even thrived on such disparity considering the Kudaness guard with whom he traveled.

  She became aware of the fond smile that had stolen across her lips and glanced at Adran. He was watching her with an unreadable expression. She stared into her wine, mortified by her lack of self-control.

  Attempting to shrug off the candid moment, she asked, “How do you put up with him?”

  Adran shrugged and leaned back in the chair. “Me? I’ve been hopelessly in love with him most of my life.”

  Adoration weighted his words. Did he mean brotherly love? She would stick to that assumption. “What about the things he’s done?”

  “You’re referring to his nickname, the Blood Prince?”

  She nodded.

  Sorrow filled his eyes. “He didn’t do those things alone.”

  She turned away. No, the prince hadn’t done them alone. A full force of soldiers and adepts followed him, one of whom sat with her now. Adran’s eyes said he shared the guilt of those atrocities and suffered for it. He didn’t seem a monster.

  He leaned closer again, lowering his voice. “His mother was everything to him. When she was murdered, he became irrational for a while. He would stop at nothing to avenge her death and those of us who followed him would do anything to ease his pain. The emperor took advantage of that, using it for his own ends until Yiloch came to his senses and turned against him.”

  Caplin approached, saving her from responding. He gestured to a chair. “May I?”

  “Please,” they answered in unison.

  Caplin sank into the chair. He looked tired, but satisfied.

  “Where’s Andrea?” Indigo asked.

  He shrugged. “I’m not sure. She’s at my side one moment, the next she’s off gossiping with someone’s wife. I can’t keep track. Where’s Jayce?”

  She shrugged in turn. She didn’t know where Adran and the creator had left her fiancé. “He seems to have vanished.”

  Caplin regarded Adran. “Are you enjoying yourself, Lord Kasyn?”

  “Yes, though perhaps not as much as he is.” Adran nodded to the dance floor.

  Caplin glanced at Yiloch who had charmed yet another woman onto the floor. “He’s danced with every attractive woman in the place, to the distress of many husbands and fathers I think. Yet you’ve attracted the most beautiful one.”

  “A highly inappropriate comment, Lord Caplin,” she admonished.

  “But not untrue,” Adran argued.

  Her cheeks burned. “You’re not helping.”

  They chuckled at her embarrassment and she averted her gaze. She was relieved to spot Andrea approaching. “Finally, another woman to talk to.”

  Andrea sat next to Caplin. “What are we all chatting about?”

  He took her hand. “I was wondering where I’d lost you.”

  Yiloch joined them then, gesturing to a chair beside Indigo. “May I?”

  “Certainly, my lord.” His presence lit her nerves on fire, but what else could she say.

  Caplin turned to him. “Lord Eldrian, did you run out of women to seduce already?”

  The familiar bantering tone he took with the prince surprised her. Apparently, Yiloch’s charms worked for enthr
alling more than unsuspecting women.

  Yiloch’s smile was friendly. “There are more, but the best ones were over here.”

  Caplin grinned at Indigo and she caught herself before sticking her tongue out at him, as she would have when they were younger.

  “You’re a charmer.” Andrea batted her lashes at Yiloch, her default response to flattery. “How long are you here for?”

  “Only a few more days.” Yiloch met Caplin’s eyes.

  Caplin nodded. “You should come watch Lord Eldrian vanquish me in the practice ring.”

  The prince gave a self-effacing smile, an expression that oddly made his good looks shine through more than ever. “He’s exaggerating.”

  Caplin negated the comment with a quick shake of his head. “I thought myself a skilled swordsman. This man has taught me humility.”

  “I doubt that,” Andrea said.

  A small laugh escaped Indigo and Andrea looked at her. Her expression turned thoughtful, her eyes jumping from Indigo to Yiloch and back. “The embroidery in Lord Eldrian’s jacket and vest matches your gown almost perfectly?” She gave an approving nod to him for his stylish selections.

  All eyes considered them and Indigo yearned to melt into the chair.

  “You two do almost look like you dressed to match,” Caplin observed.

  “Isn’t that odd?” Something in Yiloch’s tone made her wonder how odd it really was. He might have guessed she would choose a blue to enhance her eyes and Caithin nobility favored gold accents in their formal attire. “Perhaps, since we are so well matched, we should share another dance. My lady?” He stood and offered her his hand.

  The sweet sultry string notes of a popular romantic ballad rose into the air and her stomach knotted.

  “It’s getting late, my lord, you must be weary of dancing.”

  “Never.” His eyes sparkled with delight. He knew at least in part how much his presence tormented her.

  “Yes. Let’s dance.” Andrea got up, drawing Caplin with her.

  Indigo glanced at Adran who smirked unhelpfully. Resigned, she let Yiloch lead her onto the floor. He drew her out to the center and turned her to face him, his hand sliding back into place comfortably on her shoulder blade.

  “You truly are the most stunning woman in the room.”

  “I guess we are the perfect pair then,” she replied, distracted.

  He smiled. “Thank you.”

  Her cheeks burned with the unintended compliment, not that it was untrue. She let him sweep her about, her heart catching flight whenever she met his eyes. The torture of being so close when she couldn’t have him made each moment almost as sour as it was sweet.

  Let it never end.

  When the music changed, they returned to the chairs, but rather than sit, she turned to Adran, seeking escape from the merciless fire Yiloch set within her. “You said you saw Lord Jayce earlier?”

  “He’s retired to a room in the east wing. Third door down on the left, if I recall. He said he wasn’t feeling well.”

  Liar. “I’d best go check on him.”

  Caplin stood.

  “I don’t need an escort, my lord.”

  “I don’t want you getting lost in the palace,” he said, but the concern in his eyes belied the words. He worried because she and Jayce were having difficulties. The gesture was sweet, but she had a feeling Jayce would still be unconscious.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Caplin sank back down. “You are welcome to keep the room for the night.”

  “Thank you. Good evening.” She excused herself politely, avoiding Yiloch’s eyes, and hurried away.

  Jayce lay stretched across the bed in the room Adran had indicated. He didn’t stir when she shook his shoulder. His breathing was slow and steady, so she sank into a chair and watched him sleep, feeling nothing for him, aside from a vague sense of regret.

  When the palace grew quiet, she crept from the room, leaving her shoes behind so her footsteps wouldn’t disturb anyone. She made her way to a garden courtyard and stepped out into brisk, refreshing evening air. Bright stars lured her up the stairs onto the veranda. She leaned on the railing, turning her face to the sky. Stars blinked at her, brilliant and unattainable. Lingering warmth from too much wine kept the night’s chill at bay.

  Footsteps approached. A light ascard touch identified Yiloch easily. She waited, letting him come up behind her. His fingers touched the rose tattoo on her back and she shivered, then he stepped close, sliding his hands down her arms and wrapping his arms around her. She leaned into the embrace.

  If this was so wrong, why did it feel right?

  He kissed her neck, then turned her and kissed her lips. She closed her eyes, returning the kiss while he caressed her neck with light fingers, sending delicious shivers coursing through her.

  “Come with me,” he murmured.

  She tried to shake off the fog of wine and heat of desire. “I’m engaged.”

  “But you’re not in love.”

  Such arrogance! She drew back. “Am I not?”

  He smiled, leaning close enough that their lips almost touched. “Not with him.”

  In the unreal environment of the prison, it had felt like cheating on Jayce in a dream. This was different. She met his eyes, remembering the first time she had sunk into those icy depths like a ship broken on the rocks. Perhaps she was broken.

  She offered no argument when he took her hand and led her to a room with a private entrance to the veranda. He took her to a canopied bed and began to undress her, kissing her skin as he exposed it. She began to unlace his shirt, pushing away when she exposed the ring hanging on a chain around his neck.

  Indignation warred with absurd pleasure inside her. “You thief. You stole my ring.”

  He brushed her cheek with his fingers and she almost pulled away, but sudden warmth and sorrow in his gaze ensnared her. “I would have stolen you instead, if I could have.”

  With his words, she was back in the prison, her head pressed to the stone pillar, wishing she could follow where he hand gone. He had told Adran about her. He was wearing her ring around his neck having no way to have known he would see her here. He carried her with him as much as she had carried him over those many months since the prison.

  All apprehension disappeared. She moved close and kissed him. Her fingers resumed undoing his shirt.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Cool predawn light trickled in the windows, a warning that sunrise threatened. It was reckless for Indigo to be with him still. Though her presence could ruin everything, he had no desire to see her go.

  Rising on one elbow, he gazed down at her.

  She smiled drowsily and lifted the ring hanging around his neck, turning it so the light of the candles, burned down to almost nothing, reflected in the blue stone.

  He reached up to unclasp the chain. “This belongs to you.”

  “No.” She pressed the ring to his chest. “I like the idea of it touching your skin when I cannot.”

  He left the chain in place and took her hand, kissing delicate fingers. “Come with me.”

  She pulled away. “Don’t. I can’t, I won’t, and I don’t need you making my life more difficult by placing ridiculous ideas in my head.”

  She was right, but… “Indigo.”

  “No.” She rose from the bed. “I’m going.”

  He helped her into her gown, then turned her and kissed her. She pressed against him a moment, giving rise to fresh desire before pulling away and giving him a stern look.

  “I’ve got to get back before Jayce wakes. As it is, I’ll be dodging servants all the way.”

  He nodded, grudging. “I’ve never been this unhappy to see the sun.”

  She touched his face and kissed him again before slipping from the room without a backwards glance.

  He stared at the door for several minutes, lost in wonder at the yearning she evoked in him. No past lovers affected him the way she did and seeing her again, touching her again, only made it w
orse. He exhaled. With a shake of his head, he climbed back into the bed, the smell of her enfolding him.

  Sometime later, a knock on the door jerked him up from sleep. Clenching his teeth, he rolled over, putting his back to the door. After a few more knocks, the door opened and shut. Only so many people would be that bold.

  “Still sleeping?” Adran asked. He came around and sat on the edge of the bed.

  Heavy silence fell while Yiloch drifted on the edge of sleep.

  “You had company.”

  “Does it matter?” He didn’t open his eyes.

  “It was her, wasn’t it, the distinctly promised Lady Indigo?”

  Yiloch rolled over again, putting his back to Adran.

  “I find it hard to believe you’re willing to risk this alliance over one night of sex with a woman you’ll never see again.”

  Sometimes, if you ignored things, they went away. This clearly wasn’t one of those times. “I didn’t think I would see her again last time we parted,” he muttered, wishing Adran would let him sleep. “You’re jealous.”

  Adran was quiet long enough that Yiloch almost fell asleep again. Then he said, “You’re supposed to meet the High Council to finalize details of the alliance today.”

  Rolling onto his back, Yiloch rubbed his eyes. Adran’s jaw looked tight enough to crack teeth.

  “When?”

  “A little after noon.”

  He closed his eyes. “Wake me a little before noon then.”

  The door slammed and Yiloch winced with a sting of guilt. They had been friends practically since birth, but Adran’s persistent jealousy irritated him, perhaps more than it should. It had been a foolish risk, taking a promised woman to his room in the midst of forming an alliance. When he’d seen her leaning on the veranda railing, no more able to sleep than he was, sense had ceased to play a part.

  How could she be a liability? She completed him.

  *

  The nip of night air fled before the sun and wispy clouds of morning burned away, promising a bright, warm day. The city streets the carriage traveled already bustled with the activity of everyday life. Nobles who had spent the night in luxurious palace accommodations made their way back to their own homes while the less fortunate carried on with difficult lives. Tradesmen would be readying their shops to handle the day’s business while slaves and servants unobtrusively went about their tasks, cleaning streets or completing errands for those they served.