by Rowan, Cate
Alvarr and Jilian reached the bottom of the slope and proceeded at a butt-smashing trot towards the house. As they arrived in the yard, the door opened and the woman reemerged, beaming at the prince.
Hazel eyes twinkled above her button nose and apple-round cheeks. She’d changed to a honey-yellow dress and simple leather sandals.
The man appeared in the doorway next to her, Adam’s apple bobbing with an apparent swallow for courage before his lips parted in a gap-toothed grin. His wiry body was clad now in a matching yellow tunic and the same unadorned footwear. “My lord,” he said, and clasped his hands humbly at his waist.
When Alvarr halted his mount, Jilian stopped her own a step behind and watched, curious about these people and their relationship to Alvarr.
“Mellec,” the prince said, swinging off his fydd, “it’s wonderful to see you again. And you, Resara.”
Resara dipped her head and spoke as if the words were rehearsed. “My lord Prince, you grace us with your company.” Then with a happy smile, “’Tis also a delight to see you. What brings you here?”
Jilian slid gingerly from the saddle, biting her tongue to silence a wail of protest from her aching muscles.
“News is one goal,” Alvarr said. “Though another is a meal, and shelter, if you can spare them.”
“Certainly, m’lord,” Resara said. “You’ve come at a good time. Mellec’s just baked a bellberry pie. Your favorite, isn’t it?”
Alvarr smiled. “My mouth waters. I’m certain it will be another masterpiece.”
Mellec dipped his head, his eyes crinkling with pleasure. “Thank ‘ee, m’lord.” He touched Resara’s arm lovingly and stepped forward. “May I take your fydds?”
“We’d be grateful. It’s been a long journey,” Alvarr said, and escorted Jilian into the house, one hand lightly brushing her back.
Resara and Mellec offered to give up their bedroom to their guests, but after some discreet glances at the couple’s poor but serviceable furnishings, Jilian would hear none of it. “We’re perfectly happy to sleep on the floor.”
Alvarr glanced at her. He knew her muscles must ache from the journey and yet she was a gracious and undemanding guest. He followed suit. “We’ve been sleeping on the ground since Ysanne,” he told the couple. “Your floor is warm, clean, and will be more than sufficient.”
Mellec’s mouth dropped open. “But my lord—”
Alvarr smiled and held Mellec’s gaze. The cotter gave a reluctant nod.
Resara created wonderful pallets for them on the floor, and after more fussing over their comfort, she and Mellec finally retired for the night.
Alvarr stretched out on his bedding and gave a contented sigh. The scent of bellberries wafted down from a wire basket and he laced his hands behind his head, sniffing appreciatively. The cooking had been as good as promised; he would remember the sweet gooeyness of Mellec’s pie fondly for some time to come. Maybe he should arrange to stop here on the way back, too.
Back from getting the starlace…if he and Jilian could find it at all. In private, Varene had been less optimistic about their chances of success than he’d hoped.
What if this ends up a fool’s chase, and I the fool? We might not find the herb—and if we do, my Source may disappear for good, oath or no oath, just when I need her.
He glanced over at Jilian. She was already asleep, her head pillowed on her arm and her face barely visible in the glimmer of the hearth’s embers.
When I need her…
He blinked. No, he amended, I need her KYRRA.
Closing his eyes, he commanded his body to sleep.
When I need her…
Need her…
The unwanted words wouldn’t be erased, and echoed as sleep claimed him. He’d only just fallen into dreams when Jilian’s gem-green eyes and full mouth were mere inches above him.
As she smiled, her warm breath heated his lips. She lowered her mouth to his.
Soft she was, so soft—the barest pressure of her kiss, tantalizing. He groaned.
He raised his hands to her nape, drawing her closer, pressing her down upon him until her mouth opened on his, warm and wet. Answering a wish his mind could barely form, she molded herself against him. Her breasts, soft and round…her thighs, sliding down to bracket his. His body hardened, demanding her. He groaned again as his thoughts drowned in the rising heat.
Several feet away on the wooden planks, Jilian woke from a noise, but her sleep-addled brain couldn’t identify the culprit.
Pale moonlight filtered through the low windows, the rafters above her head scarcely visible. But she didn’t need to look at Alvarr to know where he was—he was a glow in her psyche.
All her senses sharpened. Cool air wafted across her neck like a kiss. She sighed and stretched all the way to her toes under the cozy warmth of the wool blanket.
Alvarr groaned again, low and long. Her eyelids flew open and she turned toward him.
His eyes were closed in sleep and his hands lay across his chest, flexing and relaxing as if caressing something—or someone. His lips moved lightly, as if seeking, tasting…
Her blood rose hot, flaring in response. As she watched his mouth move, her own lips parted and her warm breath slid over her tongue.
After a smothered gasp, she spun her gaze back to the rafters, shocked by her body’s traitorous reaction.
But it was too late. Shivers skimmed in waves along her skin, setting off aches in places she’d ignored for much too long. God, all he has to do is groan and he throws me into heat!
His ragged breathing amplified her want and her gaze crept back to his mouth.
She could slip over to him… He was just a few feet away. If she did, would he caress her with his strong hands, his hot tongue? Her body tingled.
Rolling away, she put her back to Alvarr and tried to lie still, every muscle tight. Her breath brushed against her wrists, the silk of her nightgown against her thighs… waiting… wanting him to make another sound. She stared into the darkness.
He moaned again, louder this time. She shut her eyes, half-hating her response. It had been months since Matt, and after that disaster she’d believed she could live just fine without the pleasures of the body—and the bastards who offered them.
Bastards like Matt. His smiling, blue-eyed image shot into her mind.
Handsome. Charming. Prick.
He’d humiliated her in front of a hundred people as she waited for the missing groom at her own damn wedding—while he hopped an early flight for their Tahiti honeymoon alongside Brittany, the wedding caterer’s assistant.
First her father, then Matt—men would always leave her. She’d been an idiot to trust at all. Never again.
Jilian’s fists clenched under the blanket as she heard Alvarr move restlessly behind her. Who was he dreaming of, anyway? He probably has a mistress… Lots of them… Maybe even a harem. She pictured Brittany the Slut over him, her long blonde hair snaking down over both their shoulders, her hands sliding across his chest, her body pumping greedily against his.
Jilian winced and closed her eyes, but they flew open when Alvarr moaned again. Teeth clenched, she spied her boots near the wall. She reached for one and checked the sole. Hard leather.
She grasped the boot, swung her arm high, and whacked it against the wooden floor…then lay as still as the dead, feigning sleep.
His mighty gasp nearly made her flinch. She could barely suppress her grin as she pictured him bolting upright and glaring about for the cause of the noise. Eyes shut tight, she listened to his startled breaths. God, how she wanted to laugh!
Reeling from the shock of waking, Alvarr palmed his sword hilt and glared about the silent room. Nothing moved but Jilian’s ribcage as she breathed.
Tendrils of his recent thoughts slid back to him. By Fate, that dream… Irritated, he shook them away, though his aroused body ached to rebel.
Even asleep, his mind had perceived that the noise had come from near where she lay. Tense, he watche
d for any movement beyond her. After a mentally whispered spell, his mind-sense flared out, searching for intruders in the room, then the house, then the surrounding grounds. Nothing.
Under the blankets, Jilian’s toes twitched, then her exposed shoulder, and all was still. Narrowing his eyes, he studied the pattern of her breaths. Shallow ones, not the long relaxed ones of deep sleep.
She was awake, then, and trying not to show it.
A boot rested near her hand, far from its mate along the wall. Had she been about to put it on?
And why the fake sleep?
His eyes widened in the dark. Could she possibly have been attempting to escape?
The idea seemed insane. They were too far from Ysanne, in a nearly uninhabited tract she’d never seen before. Yet alarm spiked the hairs along his arms. I can’t let her slip away. She’s crucial to my people’s future.
He’d hoped…well, what did hope matter? He propped himself on his elbow to observe her, since she clearly needed to be watched. Scowling, he commanded his mind and body to stay aware of her presence and movements. She wouldn’t escape tonight, at least. He’d make damn sure of it.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Birds chittered and sang in the dawn when Jilian rose. She glanced around for Alvarr, but found only Resara sitting quietly at the kitchen table cutting thin slices of ruby and turquoise fruits. The woman gave Jilian a bright smile and nodded toward the window, through which the sunrise burst with colored promise. “‘Tis a beautiful morning, isn’t it? How did you sleep, m’lady?”
“Just fine. Thank you for your hospitality.”
“Well now, we may be cotterfolk, but if I can’t find room for the Prince and his…er, friend…” Resara paused in her cutting, face reddening.
“Then,” Alvarr said, entering from the yard and looking far too smug, “Jilian and I would be saddened if we couldn’t share your company.”
Our hosts think I’m Alvarr’s mistress, Jilian realized. And he’s not correcting them. Irritation sizzled through her. His heated moans last night had no doubt made things worse.
She steered around Alvarr to the door. Sunlight draped sherbet pinks and oranges over the clouds and the tips of the hills. The crisp morning air smelled of leaves and rich earth. She breathed in deeply, newly inspired. As she did, Alvarr came up behind her. Her skin tingled at his proximity.
When she turned, his gray eyes caught hers. He watched her, expressionless, for several moments. What have I done now? she thought.
Then one corner of his mouth rose.
Breath warmed in her throat; her knees threatened to give way.
“Good morning, m’lord Prince, m’lady.”
Jilian yanked her gaze away. Mellec was coming up the walk with a woven basket holding what looked to be enormous green eggs.
“Good morning, Mellec. Those are lovely.” He picked an egg from the basket and raised it to eye level. “Beautiful color. I suppose you get five or six a day?”
Resara beamed with pride at her husband. “Twenty or so, m’lord. He’s the best fowlkeeper in Nanro province.”
Alvarr whistled. “No wonder you win the fowl prizes every tourney.”
A bashful smile lit Mellec’s face. “We’re honored you’ve kept track, m’lord.”
Resara made quick work of the eggs, frying them in a long-handled skillet on the hearth, and Mellec set the table with plates painted with scenes of the landscape outside. When Jilian admired the artwork, Mellec gave his wife a loving gaze and mentioned that Resara had made them to celebrate their anniversary together in their cottage.
The breakfast was delicious, once Jilian got over the oddity of green yolks. Dr. Seuss would love this meal.
Dr. Seuss… Mom had loved to read his books to me. She closed her eyes against the sudden stab of homesickness. I want to see her again. I want to be back in my own familiar world. I need to get the starlace and go home to Mom before it’s too late.
Breakfast lost its appeal. She lowered her hands to her lap and looked at Alvarr, hoping he’d be ready to depart.
But the prince was deep in conversation with the couple. “I know the situation has been difficult lately. I wonder what you two have heard.”
“Bhruic’s dalgors have been spotted well within Teganne’s borders,” Resara said. “They travel in small groups of four or five, but do a lot of damage.”
“Dalgors?” Jilian asked. Resara eyed her in mild surprise.
“Bhruic’s soldiers,” Alvarr said quickly. “Resara, I’ll assign more patrols to come here. I hope it helps. But dalgors are very good at hiding when they don’t want to be seen. And the Nerils host many good places to hide a temporary base.”
Jilian wanted to know more about their destination. “The Nerils—have either of you been up there?”
Mellec sat back in his chair. “Just once,” he said quietly. “It’s cold—even this time of year. And the beasts…” His voice faded away.
“Uh…beasts?”
“Mmm, yes,” Mellec said. “It’s much safer down here. And of course there’s this land—better for planting. Far better than where we came from.” He nodded at Resara. “Little more than dust there, nowadays.”
“Where was that?” Jilian asked.
“Fallorm.” He shook his head sadly.
“It used to be beautiful,” Resara said with a sharp nod. “I still remember the old forest where I ran as a lass. Ancient and lovely, it was.” She sighed. “‘Tis no more, that forest.”
Jilian glanced at Alvarr, who watched the woman with somber eyes.
“And not just the forests,” Resara added. “Such wonderful land for planting. My family grew the loveliest lirrfruits there—as big as a man’s hand, they were, and so sweet your tongue would be blissful for days.”
“My family raised fowl,” Mellec said. “But what we keep here—” he nodded at the eggs on Jilian’s plate— “are a mere shadow of the stock we once had. Such birds…our fowl were royalty among others.” His face reddened. “Er, beggin’ your pardon, m’lord Prince.”
Alvarr chuckled. “No offense taken. My mother always celebrated when she received a brace with lines bred from the flocks of Darmet Holding. There were plenty of fowl closer, but none better. It was her favorite judge-gift.” His eyes twinkled.
“Thank ‘ee, m’lord,” Mellec said, ducking his head. “My father was very proud of his birds. He taught me right. I just…wish he could be here to see what I’ve done.”
Resara reached for her husband’s hand and squeezed it. “He’d’ve been proud.”
“He’d also sorrow to see Fallorm now. We were lucky to escape.” He turned to Alvarr. “I know I’ve said it before, m’lord, but we’ll always be in your debt.”
“You’ve repaid me many times with delectable pies and eggs.”
“M’lord, that’s not—”
Alvarr held up a palm. “No more is needed, Mellec. After what you escaped, you and Resara deserve all the peace you’ve created.”
Part of Jilian wanted to keep quiet—she had a sinking feeling that not doing so would make life difficult—but she had to ask. “What exactly happened to Fallorm?”
Mellec eyed her in surprise.
Alvarr shot her a warning look, then turned to Mellec with a shrug. “Jilian came from a place very far from here.”
Annoyed, she quirked an eyebrow at the prince. Too right I did, thanks to you.
“The explanation’s long,” Mellec said, “but the name is short. Bhruic. Bhruic came to Fallorm three fiveyears ago.”
Jilian’s expression must have betrayed her ignorance, because Resara cocked her head and said, “You are from far away, aren’t you?” With a glance at Alvarr for permission, the woman began her story.
“The last Prince of Fallorm was a kind man and a good ruler. Ioreth was loved by his people. When I was eight, my own mother took me to see his procession for Harvestmonth. Right beside us, a child’s doll rolled into the path of his carriage. He stopped the procession and left th
e carriage to pick it up and hand it back to her. I still recall his sweet eyes…” She nodded at Jilian. “A good man, he was. But then he fell ill. No one knows quite why—”
“—But some say,” Mellec added in a dark voice, “that it’s no coincidence Bhruic came to his court at that time.”
Alvarr sat back in his chair, apparently settling in for a good tale. Jilian found herself doing the same.
Resara nodded. “Some do say it. And it’s well known that Bhruic ingratiated himself with Ioreth. Just how, no one knows…”
“Hmmph,” Mellec said, chin thrust out. “I bet it was bewitchment. Prince Ioreth was too smart to be taken in by the likes of Bhruic.”
“Maybe,” said Resara. “And maybe he was different around Ioreth. We’ll likely never know.” Shrugging, she continued.
“Ioreth’s son had been killed by a boar and his daughter had died birthing her first child, who didn’t survive her by more than a few days. Bhruic was some sort of a distant cousin, so he met the Blood requirements, and he’d…well, wormed his way in with Ioreth. When Ioreth died, Bhruic was named Prince of Fallorm.”
“Of course there were protests made,” Mellec said, “Some of his advisors had their suspicions.”
“Aye,” Resara said, “and some of them wanted the crown in their own right. But that’s neither here nor there, nor a concern of the likes of us—er, beggin’ your pardon, m’lord Prince.” She dipped her head at Alvarr, who nodded in acknowledgement.
“And then, somehow,” Resara said, raising an eyebrow, “Ioreth’s advisors began to disappear.”
Mellec leaned toward Jilian. “Some of them left on their own accord, mind ye. They knew what was comin’.”
“And those that didn’t…” Resara said, “Well, maybe they found out pretty quick. Some were just never seen again. Others had accidents…”
“Hmmph,” Mellec said.
Resara’s voice dropped to a whisper. “They say he’s dabbled in the dark craft much of his life.” She gave a sharp nod. “Either way, Ioreth’s loyal advisors were gone within a year. Bhruic brought in advisors of his own from Chellen and elsewhere, all more concerned with currying favor with him than tending to Fallorm and its people.”