Aria looked at each member of the Joint Council, trying to judge their reactions. Their expressions ranged from disappointment to disgust. None held compassion for Lilt dar Joon.
“We all know Bilarrians have abilities beyond those of our Mystics. What’s to say Lord Drakkin didn’t alter the memory stream or --”
“What motivation do I have for creating this drama? The Rodytes are the only ones who would have benefited from Aria’s death.” His tone was more cutting than Charlotte’s, yet far more composed than Lilt’s.
“If the memory stream is accurate, you should be arrested for murdering Noll!” Lilt turned to the other council members. “Did you not hear her pleas for mercy, her attempts to cooperate?”
“We saw a desperate traitor spouting lies,” Legate cet Malaque said to a chorus of murmured agreement.
“I ask that this council appoint an investigative team to --”
“I will never allow it,” Lilt snapped, cutting off Charlotte’s request. “This was an isolated incident, if not a false allegation. You have lured these fools to your side, manipulated them with your diplomacy. I will not subject my House to a witch hunt.” He stormed from the room and slammed the doors with a resounding bang.
“That went well.” Charlotte shook her head.
“The only reason he would object so vehemently is if he had something to hide. This was no isolated incident.” Legate spoke again.
A strained silence followed. Charlotte’s greatest fear had been reigniting the Great Conflict. If all the other Houses supported her now, the situation was vastly different. Still, Aria -- and everyone in the room -- reflected on the similarities.
“How did you expose the conspiracy on Bilarri?” Legate asked.
“We pretended to be ignorant,” Drakkin replied. “The regional kings and Guild Masters were notified of the potential danger, then Chae Tra Lyn Hautell publicly announced the miraculous discovery of a jumanna born of Rodyte blood. The Guild Masters offered to scan every Rodyte on Bilarri in the hopes of finding other ‘latent’ abilities. The vast majority of those who were scanned had no such abilities, but thousands of Rodytes opted to return to Rodymia rather than be scanned.”
“I wish our situation could have been defused rather than forced to a head.” Charlotte sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. The Joint Council was her greatest achievement. This had to be a devastating setback.
“This has been festering since the Joint Council was formed.” Again Legate seemed to speak for everyone. “I don’t think Lilt was ever committed to peace. He was just more deceitful than his predecessors.”
“Be that as it may, he had one valid point,” Charlotte said. “I will not allow this to turn into a witch hunt. I want the investigation to be thorough and objective, which means I will not be directly involved.” She looked at Aria and managed to smile. “Thank you for allowing us to invade your memory.”
“You’re welcome.” Aria wasn’t sure what else to say. With his usual protectiveness, Drakkin had insisted on transmitting her memory to the others, so he’d been the only one to actually touch her mind.
“If you need anything else, we’ll be at the Conservatory for the next few days.” Drakkin pulled out Aria’s chair and they left the council chambers hand in hand.
With effortless skill, Drakkin opened a transport conduit connecting the corridor outside the council chambers to a grassy hill overlooking Mystic Valley. Aria gasped, stumbling through the vortex. “Please warn me when you’re going to do that.” She swayed and he encircled her waist, steadying her as she adjusted to their new surroundings.
“I’m sorry.” Reaching behind them, he closed the conduit. “I’m a bit distracted.”
“That’s understandable. This has been one hell of a week.”
He rubbed his cheek against her hair and inhaled her scent. “The Rodytes are on the run, at least for now. Charlotte must deal with a disgruntled rival, but she has the support of the other great houses. Ontarian Armed Forces have networked with the Bilarrian Militia to find the Shadow Assassins’ lair. One hell of a week indeed.”
They lingered on the hill, absorbing the beauty and tranquility. With its wide gallery and majestic pillars, the Conservatory had offered refuge and instruction to Mystics for centuries. Snow-capped mountains rose in the distance and tall, leafy trees provided a sense of seclusion. A narrow brook curved through the clearing, separating the main complex from scattered outbuildings.
“It’s lovely,” Aria whispered, unable to explain the emotions welling within her.
“No matter how many Head Masters come and go, Vee’s spirit will always resonate here.”
Vee had poured his heart and soul into this place. He’d been undaunted even in death. Strength and integrity surrounded her, soothed her, an echo of her father’s indelible presence. She embraced the knowledge that he was at peace, finally reunited with E’Lanna.
“Ready?”
Tal was waiting for them, anxious to introduce her to the others who had participated in her rescue. She glanced at Drakkin, her heart filled with tenderness. “With you by my side, I’m ready for anything.”
He pivoted to face her and she slipped her arms around his neck. “After eighteen centuries, I thought nothing could surprise me, but you fill my life with wonder. Vee entrusted you to me and I will never disappoint him. You are so precious to me.”
“He could see the future, you know.” She felt the gentle nudge of his being and opened her mind. “The last thing he said to me was that I could rest assured knowing I would find the happiness stolen from him in life.”
“Your father was a very wise man.” His fingers caressed her cheek, then traced her lips. “Each time we make love, your power grows,” he whispered with a mischievous smile. “It makes you stronger, more able to protect yourself.”
She laughed. “You want to make love for my -- safety?”
“Well, that’s not the only reason.”
“Isn’t Tal waiting for us?”
“I haven’t announced our arrival yet.” He pressed her body against his, burying his fingers in her unbound hair. “We’ve had little time to ourselves these past few days. No one will begrudge us a few minutes alone.”
“This better take more than a few minutes or --” She laughed as he swept her off her feet and laid her down in the grass. “What if someone sees us?”
“We’re shielded from sight.” His gaze swept downward and her gown disappeared. Warm tingles danced across her skin. “Any other objections?”
She raised her arms with a contented smile. “You’re wearing entirely too many clothes.”
Cyndi Friberg
Cyndi has been a member of Romance Writers of America since 1999 and also belongs to two local chapters of RWA. She is the winner of multiple national contests, including The Molly and The Merritt. In 2003, she was chosen as a finalist in the prestigious Golden Heart, as well as winning the Jasmine with Rebel Angels 1: Born of the Shadows. After dabbling in freelance journalism and songwriting, she returned to her true passion: paranormal romance. Visit Cyndi on the Web at www.cyndifriberg.com, or email her at [email protected].
Star-Crossed Page 18