Elenya turned to her warrior, angst raising her brows.
“Come.” He offered his arm, though no explanation.
Touching the jeweled neckpiece with her free hand as Tahruk parted the curtain, Elenya closed her eyes for a moment in an attempt to tamp down the fear that tried to settle in her middle. She was Tahruk’s chosen, she reminded herself, and his father must simply accept fate, even if her family was the enemy Drille. She raised her chin and stepped out behind the warrior, wishing she felt the confidence she tried to exude through her stance.
Outside the curtained alcove, the maiden was once again taken with the beauty of the hall. Lush tapestries of deep gold, greens, and burgundies lined the walls. Similar coverings lay beneath their feet. Long, wooden benches, highly polished, carved with scenes matching those in the tapestries, lined the aisle leading to the diaz before them.
Two people rose from tapestry covered chairs in the center of the raised surface as the couple began their journey down the aisle. Elenya recognized one as the Master whose legs she’d attached herself to, begging mercy for the mismatch between her and the Zanak warrior. Worry overtook her – concerns that he somehow knew their relationship had yet to be consummated and he had come to absolve the ties. Whether that was possible or not, Elenya didn’t know. Either way, his presence caused her heart to sink just as her dreams surely had in the bottle thrown overboard.
“Fretting is unbecoming upon a woman of Zanak,” Tahruk’s warning echoed softly beside her.
Elenya’s head snapped toward him, his stance reminding her again that she must not forget who she was.
He glanced at her then looked back toward the front affording Elenya the opportunity to study him a moment longer. Her eyes roved over the defined lines of his raised chin, the set of his full lips, the power and prowess of his finely honed physique – it all portrayed confidence. He was not only of royal blood, he was elite, the King’s best, and she was his chosen.
She turned her attention to Master Daruh. His smile fixed on her allowing her confidence to grow. For the first time she looked upon the house master. As she took him in, she spoke to Tahruk, her lips barely moving. “My lord.” She cut her eyes toward him, and once he looked at her, continued, “Were you pleased that I did not run when you took me out?”
Tahruk fought to contain a sudden burst of laughter that bubbled within, attempting to maintain reverence before his father. “I am. Though I believe you were too preoccupied to consider running. Rather enjoyably so, I might add.”
Elenya’s face burned red. Still, she managed to swallow loudly and continued speaking. “Yes, my lord. You are correct. And I am quite certain I shall enjoy further exploration of this diversion.”
Mere steps from his father, Tahruk groaned. “Ah, but the true diversion stands lovely at my side.”
Elenya had no time to react to his words. They had reached the diaz requiring immediate action on her part. She released Tahruk’s arm and dropped into a low curtsy where she remained, awaiting the house master’s words.
“Rise,” his voice, deep and even, commanded. “Come forward, child.”
Elenya bristled at his reference to her not yet being a woman, though she obeyed, hopeful her shaking legs did not show through her skirts. With a deep breath, she turned to watch Tahruk moving to stand beside Daruh. Both men gave her a single nod.
“My lord.” She bobbed again directly before the leader of Zanak, noting his attention was captured by the neckpiece.
His brows furrowed. “What is your name?”
The harshness of his voice caused her to jump, though chin up, she answered more boldly than she felt, “I am Elenya Avenille of Aleone.” When he did not answer, she added with a sense of bravado beyond what she felt, “Chosen of Tahruk Sharanis of Zanak. Marked by the Masters in all their infinite wisdom.”
Behind her, gasps echoed at the indicated challenge of her words. Elenya’s insides quivered, though she held Renaine’s gaze.
Renaine broke the stare, his eyes falling again to the bejeweled neckpiece before his nose flared and he sniffed the air.
“And yet my son has not seen fit to fulfill his duties with his chosen, marked by the Masters.” His tone mocking, he quirked a brow at her.
Dislike fuelled the tone of her retort. “We had an … unfortunate beginning, my lord.”
Renaine’s snort was drowned out by a voice behind her. “Proving my brother is a fool for not taking you and exacting the punishment you deserve for your little foray.”
Elenya swiveled, her attention, and that of all others present, claimed by another warrior every bit as stately as Tahruk and Renaine. The other man stared at Elenya with desire so blatant she felt the need to fold her arms over her chest.
He laughed. “Perhaps he isn’t attracted by the scent of the enemy.”
“Redahn!” Lady Neria rose to her feet, a hand held up to her by her husband was the only thing that stopped her movement from the front bench.
The low growl from the other side of the diaz turned heads toward the warrior accused of slacking his duties. Daruh held Tahruk back with a hand on his chest and another around his upper arm. Hatred burned in his eyes as he glared at his brother.
Elenya started to go to him, feeling the pull again, only to be stopped by a hand on her arm. She turned to glare at Renaine, wrenching her arm from his grasp.
“You are a bold woman, Elenya Avenille of Aleone though your decision to flee from my son has already prompted questions of your loyalty. What have you to say in your defense?”
Eyes narrowed, she threw a scathing glance at Redahn following another snort from him. Turning back to the house master, she brought her chin up deliberately and squared her shoulders. “Upon the confirmation from Master Daruh that no error had been made, I immediately submitted to my warrior, my lord, with every intent to … fulfill my … obligations and duties to the Zanak Drille. Only,” She lowered her head and her voice, “exhaustion overcame me last night and … visitors at daybreak prevented certain … fulfillment … this morning,” she managed haltingly, embarrassment flaming her cheeks. “Still, I am honor bound to do all that is expected.” She forced her gaze up to look at the house master and waited, stifling her unease while she awaited his command.
At last, the elder man nodded. He motioned for Tahruk to take his place next to her. “I trust, my son, this … issue will be amended post haste. We would not want it said that Zanak does not honor the directives of the Masters, nor do we wish to prove ourselves disloyal to the King.” He looked from son to maiden. “At least she is not hard to look upon. It will make fulfilling your obligations easier…”
The unladylike snort that interrupted the house master prompted Tahruk to a hasty answer of assurance to his father before he turned her away.
“My son.” Renaine’s voice halted them a few steps from the diaz. “We shall dine one hour earlier tonight for your convenience.”
“Perhaps you should take the time between then and now to tend to your obligations, Brother. ‘Twould be a pity for one so fair to fall into the wrong hands before you could attend to that little detail.” Redahn stretched his hand toward Elenya as the couple began to move away. Tahruk jerked her to his other side and squared on his younger brother.
“And I would be honor bound to relieve such a scoundrel from his ability to breathe should the Courts not do it for me,” Tahruk told his brother who, although mighty in his own right, could not have taken on the jealous elite warrior and emerged the victor.
“Boys!”
It was Nema who stepped between the two men. She pushed Tahruk back toward Elenya and took Redahn’s arm. “Come,” she urged him, tugging on him to follow in the other direction.
Tahruk ushered Elenya down the long aisle at such a fast clip she might have fallen had the pace itself not kept her upright. At the end of the aisle he shoved her into the curtained alcove, pinning her against the back wall. His hands began to move possessively over her even as his mouth soug
ht hers. Her skin prickled. Surely he did not intend to take her right there.
“My lord!” Her voice was a mere squeak as his lips move to her throat.
“You are mine,” he growled, straightening, though never releasing the pressure that held her to him. “No matter what, my blood runs through your veins. Mine!” His hands rubbed along her bare arms, moving to the exposed flesh of her back and down to press her even tighter to where there was no mistaking his desire. “My seed alone shall spill into you.” His lips again on hers, he whispered, “With me, only me, shall you become one.”
Voices approaching had him stepping away. He stared down at her, his breathing ragged, labored. Elenya trembled in his arms.
“You are mine,” he repeated, before disappearing through an opening on the far side of the alcove.
Always her guide, Nema appeared seconds later. “Come with me,” she told the dazed maiden. “Let’s pay a visit to the family seamstress. She can begin to show you the fine fabrics we have available. We must take advantage of the short time we have.”
Elenya simply nodded and allowed herself to be led away, unsure the turmoil inside would allow ladylike words to spill forth should she speak.
Chapter 13
The remainder of the afternoon was spent at the mercy of a woman with graying hair swept into a haphazard bun that served as holder to many of the tools of the trade. She unnerved Elenya to an irrational degree, especially as ill thoughts of her treatment by the men of Zanak simmered just under the surface. Exactly how they should have acted rather escaped her. Had her own words not labeled her as glorified breeding stock? Why then was she angered when the father spoke of her coming together with his son as a duty? And why when she thought of the fulfillment of that obligation did her heart race and heat rise to her cheeks? These men! The man whose blood she carried, his father… and that brother of his! His manners toward her were deplorable. It was all so irritating!
She felt herself nearing the end of her endurance when a knock rattled the door just before Tahruk let himself in.
“You nearly knocked me down!” The seamstress glared at him from behind the opened door.
“Then you should bar your door next time or plan to stay out of the way.” He sent her a look that had her scurrying back to the silk draped maiden waiting none too patiently atop the pinning stool. His eyes roved over Elenya before he turned his attention to Nema. “She seems ill prepared so close to the dinner hour. How am I to collect her in that?”
Nema’s chuckle had them both glaring at her. “Seems tension reigns all around,” she spoke to a dressmaker’s figurine in the far corner. “I think we shall all be better off once this night is behind us.”
“You try my patience, Nema.”
The older woman shrugged at the warrior’s bark. “I must say you have maintained far greater restraint under the circumstances than one might have expected, my lord.”
Elenya frowned. Nema was the one person she’d thought had understood her and her predicament. Now she was praising the warrior for his ability to maintain his distance. She threw her hands up and stepped off the stool, her actions causing all eyes to be drawn to her.
“What?” she snapped at them before stomping toward the screen where her own clothing had been deposited upon her arrival. “You people act as if I am not even here. And when you do acknowledge me, it’s … it’s only … you treat me as if … Oh!” Again her hands went up. She gave them one more dour look, then mumbling, she disappeared behind the screen.
Tahruk stood dazed for a moment then stalked across the floor ignoring both the older women’s demands for him to halt. Forehead and chin both wrinkled in contemplation, he followed the path of his chosen.
“This space is not nearly big enough for the both of us, my lord.” She whirled to face him then stood, one fist on a shapely hip, the other hand holding up the bodice of her gown not yet where it should be. Chin up, lips pressed tightly together, she glared at him when he failed to retreat. She shook her head and snorted, the loose red curls swishing about her bared shoulders. “Suit yourself, but if you’re going to stay you may as well be of service.” Turning away, she thrust her arms into the sleeves, what little there was of them, then stepped back and pulled her hair away.
Tahruk groaned, closing his eyes against the sight before him. He fought down the urge that flared at the vision of the expanse of flesh flanked by the open back of her dress. It took every ounce of restraint he had not to push the sleeves back off her arms. He imagined the dress pooling at her feet, the feel of her silken skin beneath his hands … He already knew how she tasted, how she smelled …
“The buttons, my lord,” she commanded, her voice steeped in impatience. The toes of her stocking-clad foot thumped against the floor to reinforce her sentiment.
“You would do well to hold your temper, Little One.”
“And you would do well to help me so that this blasted night can commence.” After a charged moment passed without his reacting, she added with a less than demure nod to her head, “My lord.”
“Hellion,” he mumbled, stepping forward, his fingers beginning to work at the buttons. Re-holing the dainty embellishments proved more difficult than their unfastening – a task he much preferred.
A trip back to Tahruk’s chambers was still required for Elenya to quickly change and have her hair properly dressed by a corisan who proved little better than the one assigned on the night of the Dremis celebration. Unlike her predecessor, this girl held nothing of the overt boldness of Ceeda, instead exhibiting a mousy fearfulness that had an already frustrated Elenya taking the brush away from her and finishing the task herself. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t done for herself back home.
Home. The thought swept her with sorrow. Nothing seemed to have gone as expected here, and the comfort of her own chambers seemed more a fading dream. She longed for the gaiety of evenings spent with her family, the security of her mother’s arms, Shemek…
“Where is the maiden I found in the dressmaker’s shop -- the one with the fire in her blood and exasperated words threatening to spill from those lovely lips?”
Elenya’s eyes snapped to Tahruk’s reflection framed in full by the length of the gazing glass. Straightening her sagging shoulders, she pushed the last of the jeweled pins into her knotted hair while she studied him. Like Shemek, he was dark haired, his skin bronzed from the hours spent outside training for battle. Both men were toned, muscular, though unlike Shemek’s younger body Tahruk had the physique of a fully developed man. He was quite magnificent, really.
His movement away from the door frame startled her and Elenya jerked her eyes from his advancing form only to be drawn right back. He stopped directly behind her, taking his time to study her reflection.
She jumped when he reached for a strand of hair she’d left loose to cascade over her shoulder. He smiled. “I like it when you leave part of your hair down,” he told her, his voice growing suddenly husky as he began to stroke her shoulder, his fingers trailing up her slender neck and along her jawline. “You look quite lovely, my lady.”
Elenya hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until he bent to press a kiss to the back of her neck and it whooshed out, accompanied by a nearly silent moan.
“If it was anyone but my father at the head of our table, Little One, I would bar the door and ravish you until we were both sated,” he whispered against her ear, eliciting another shudder from her innocent body.
“You seem quite sure of your abilities, my lord.” Her raised brow earned a laugh from the warrior, though he didn’t bother to answer. Instead he stepped back and produced a jeweled box from inside the leather pouch fastened around his waist.
“Have you chosen jewels for this evening?”
Touching her own neck, Elenya gasped remembering the neckpiece she’d removed at the seamstress’ quarters. Eyes wide, she bit at her lower lip while she stared at the warrior’s reflection.
Tahruk laughed, seeming to know exactly
what she was thinking. “Rest assured Nema will have taken care of that old piece. Its weight alone makes it impractical, unlike this…” He opened the box to reveal a piece that made her gasp. The combined peach moonstones and pearls were absolutely stunning.
“Oh, my lord. It’s lovely, though it must have cost a fortune.”
Tahruk waved away her concerns and worked to remove the necklace from the velvet lined box. Laying it around her neck he latched the heavy gold clasp then squatted beside her, his reflection even with hers in the mirror. “Its price does not compare to what you pay to play pawn in the Masters’ game.”
Elenya tilted her head, her eyes imploring his as she turned to look directly at him.
With a snort, he stole a kiss then rose to his feet. “You seem to bring out a softer side in me, my lady, though if you tell anyone, I shall deny it vehemently then punish you severely. Now come.” He extended a hand to help her up. “Let no man be accused of keeping my father waiting.”
An odd mixture of disappointment and relief warred within the young woman as her warrior led her to the family gathering. She was confused, conflicted. On one hand, she felt rescued by this imposed delay, the thought of their coupling still sending tendrils of fear through her.
On the other hand, she yearned for him, to feel him close. There was no denying the charge between them when he took her in his arms or when his mouth covered hers. His lips and hands seared her flesh with a promise of greater fulfillment. Even now, just thinking about it, fire spread rapidly, engulfing her insides.
He turned to her as they stepped into the dining hall, his eyes moving over her as if he sensed her desire. She jumped when he stretched his hand toward her, his knuckles caressing her cheek before he circled her lips with a fingertip. The sensation was a sensual tickle that drew her closer to him, her head tilted up asking that his mouth replace his hand.
Dance With The Enemy Page 6