Hayden barely contained his desire as he stood beside the princess, only looking away to speak with Rhoane and Janeira. To his credit, Hayden didn’t gawk at Janeira’s dress as others had, but Rhoane saw the telltale flush to his cheeks.
A familiar laugh brought Rhoane’s attention away from his companions. He turned in time to see Taryn spin around the dance floor, a wide smile on her face. A pinch of jealousy stung his insides, but he kept his face calm. Since the morning she showed him the looking glass, he’d kept his distance to let her sort out her feelings, but seeing her laughing with another man brought forth unwelcome thoughts.
When Janeira asked after the couple, Sabina said, “Princess Taryn and Lord Aomori. You remember him, don’t you, Rhoane? We met him in Paderau when Taryn made us dinner.”
Rhoane did remember him. He came from the Danuri Province but was fostering with Lord Tinsley. His family was one of the wealthiest in Aelinae. Not only that, he was young and quite handsome.
“Why does she dance with another man if she is your betrothed?” Janeira asked.
Sabina looked at Rhoane with one eyebrow raised. “Yes, Prince Rhoane, why does she?”
The tone of her voice and slight shake of her head meant she knew Rhoane had been avoiding Taryn. By way of answer, he bowed to Sabina before leading Janeira to the dance floor, where he kept his kinswoman far from his betrothed.
This was not the meeting he’d envisioned for the two. It wasn’t Taryn’s fault he’d been scarce the past few days. In an attempt to find the truth of Taryn’s allegations, he’d followed Marissa.
Aside from meeting with Armando, Marissa rarely left the palace. Once, she’d roamed the gardens for several bells, stopping to sit atop the seawall at the farthest edge of the orchard, and staring out to sea. Even Rhoane’s surreptitious conversation with Hayden hadn’t garnered anything useful. Marissa had been with someone in the servant’s quarters the night they arrived in Talaith, but Hayden had no idea who.
Even with that piece of information, Rhoane hesitated to think it could be Zakael. He’d actually managed to convince himself it wasn’t Zakael Taryn had seen at the ball in Paderau, that she had been mistaken. He’d known Marissa all her life; she was a devoted daughter, not just to Lliandra, but to the throne. She would never jeopardize Aelinae’s future.
Of the notes Taryn had mentioned, neither he nor his valet had received them. A few quiet inquiries left him no closer to finding the mysterious papers, either. Somehow, from Taryn to Rhoane, they’d disappeared.
For most of the evening, Rhoane kept Janeira busy with introductions to powerful nobles who could benefit the Eleri. As much as she believed the Eleri didn’t need the Fadair, Rhoane knew differently. Having lived with them, he understood how the races were intertwined in a way the Eleri could never imagine.
Although he appeared to pay her no mind, Rhoane kept watch over Taryn, grimacing each time she laughed or spun around the huge dance floor in another man’s arms. She’d been drinking more than usual that night, and each time their eyes met, it was as if she challenged him to stop her. Suddenly his plan to give her some distance didn’t seem like such a great idea.
“May I have this dance?” Marissa slipped beside him and placed her hand on his arm.
“The empress was worried about you,” Rhoane said once they were away from Janeira. Marissa should’ve been to the feast bells earlier. The stench of her whore’s sex lingered.
“I had another engagement, but I’m here now.” She pressed herself into him, sliding her fingers down the front of his tunic to the top of his breeches. “I see your betrothed has found herself a new love.” She flicked the front of his pants, and he grabbed her wrist.
“This is unseemly of you.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry, Rhoane.” In a breath, her whole demeanor changed. She sagged into him, pouting beneath her fluttering lashes—the same little girl trick she’d used on him countless times over the seasons. It wasn’t cute any longer.
“You are drunk.” He noticed a bluish tinge around her neck, as if a bruise were just forming. A protective surge overcame him. “What has happened to you, Marissa? Did someone harm you?”
“Hardly.” She scoffed and flicked her wrist with dramatic flair. “It’s you, my darling, I’m worried about. I wasn’t wrong when I said your betrothed has found someone new. I have it on good authority that Aomori has sampled the fruits of your love.”
Rhoane glared at her. “You go too far.”
Her breasts rose and fell in a shrug. Her low-cut gown of pale lavender matched her eyes. A challenge stirred in them, and something else. Remorse, perhaps? “Lady Celia saw them in the garden earlier. They thought they were being discreet but clearly not. I don’t know how Sabina can bear it. She confided in Taryn that Aomori was going to petition the empress for her hand. To be betrayed by your friend like that, it must be awful.”
They moved to the side of the dance floor where Rhoane slowed their movements, but could not temper the pounding of his heart or the rush of blood to his ears. “Celia is mistaken. She loves gossip more than power. I would not put my trust in anything she says.”
“Dear Rhoane, you are bound by your Eleri ethics, but you forget Taryn is not. She didn’t swear an oath when she was a child. Don’t look so shocked. Only Mother and I know about your oath, and I would never tell a soul. I’ve grown rather fond of my sister and hate to be the one to tell you this, but you have to know—Taryn is trying to break your bonds.”
He caught Taryn watching them from the other side of the room. She looked frail and alone to him. Aomori laughed at something another lord had said, but Taryn ignored him. The sadness in her eyes touched Rhoane. He shook his head. “You are wrong, Marissa. Taryn has more honor than that.”
“For your sake, I hope so. You don’t want to be bound for all eternity with a woman who does not want you.” The dance ended, and Marissa ran a finger along Rhoane’s jaw. “You deserve better than her, Rhoane.” The musky scent of her sex wafted after her as she moved through the crowd.
Although he’d been promised to Taryn since birth, he’d had less than two moonturns to get to know her. He didn’t like the predicament Marissa and Taryn created. If they both told the truth, they betrayed not just him but the entire realm. The problem was that he had no reason to doubt either woman. Yet he couldn’t forget the image he saw in Taryn’s looking glass of Zakael touching Taryn as if they were lovers. Rhoane’s ShantiMari boiled through his veins.
From across the room, Janeira shot him a look of warning. He didn’t need her to remind him what could happen if Eleri ShantiMari was unconfined. The image of his mother consumed in flames of power was forever embedded on his heart.
Taryn’s laughter cut through the ballroom, too loud, too forced. She grabbed a goblet from a passing servant before Marissa caught her in a dancer’s pose and spun them both onto the dance floor. Aomori held Sabina in his arms, a league between them while Hayden watched the pair with jealous hunger in his eyes. Rhoane hated the games nobles played. Hated the way they used lives for their own entertainment. Hated the fact he’d been lured into their schemes.
At the helm of it all, Lliandra sat on her throne, observing the guests with a calculated coolness that unnerved Rhoane. Nothing happened in her kingdom without her knowledge. If Marissa was bedding Zakael, Lliandra would know. If Taryn had bedded Aomori, the same. For a heartbeat, Rhoane wondered if Lliandra had orchestrated the tryst between Taryn and Aomori. It would serve her well to break Rhoane’s bonds with Taryn. Without his influence, Lliandra would be free to manipulate her daughter.
He roamed the room, scanning the area periodically while Janeira danced with an aging nobleman and Taryn lounged on overstuffed couches with the other princesses, wine goblets filled, and plates of faerie cakes overflowing before them. They talked and laughed and drank. Except little Tessa, who neither spoke, nor ate. Something was wrong. He sensed it. Could almost feel the darkness creeping in. Ready to take hold, to strangle
the light.
“I’ve seen happier faces on pigs ready for slaughter. What’s got you so down?” Baehlon leaned against the open window, sucking in the scant breeze. “Gods, but it’s hot tonight.”
Rhoane glanced at his friend, noting the sweat on his brow, the stains beneath his arms. “Are you ill?”
Baehlon shook his head, and the golden bells chimed. “It’s Faelara. The blasted woman insisted I dance with her.” He patted his belly. “I’ve been lax in my training.”
Rhoane nodded absently, his attention on Janeira’s approach. He turned back to Baehlon and motioned toward Taryn. “She has had enough for one night. Can you escort her to her rooms?”
Baehlon didn’t question his friend but went to quietly speak with Taryn. She gave him little fight and left without a glance in Rhoane’s direction. Janeira watched Taryn’s exit with a look of disgust on her face. He could just imagine her report to his father—that Taryn was nothing more than a silly girl who couldn’t control her drink. The Eleri would never accept her as Darennsai.
The band struck up a hopeful melody, and Rhoane took Janeira into his arms, turning them both onto the dance floor. “Tell me, are my brothers well?”
They spoke of the Weirren and Rhoane’s family through two songs until Janeira said finally, “I have had enough dancing for one evening. If you do not mind, I would like to get some rest.” She curtseyed to him before making her way to the empress, where she stayed a few minutes. The last Rhoane saw of Janeira, she was trailing after Aomori as he left the ballroom.
Whatever her intentions, it wouldn’t be good for him or Taryn.
“Interesting kinswoman you’ve got there.”
Rhoane glanced at Baehlon, suddenly feeling his many seasons. “Where is Taryn?”
“In bed, I hope. I left her with her maids. She’ll not enjoy the morning sun, that’s for certes. Drunk as an Artagh on Smelting Day.”
Rhoane nodded absently.
“Is there something I should be made aware of? You two have been acting odd since her crowning.”
Rhoane debated only a moment before confessing to his friend. “Taryn believes Marissa is bedding Zakael, and tonight Marissa told me Taryn is bedding Aomori. Neither can give me proof other than her word.”
“I see.” Baehlon crossed his arms over his chest. “So, your dilemma is, if I am correct, whether you should believe a girl who has no reason to lie to you or someone who’s been in love with you all her life and would do anything to have you for her own.”
Marissa’s laughter drew his attention. She and several ladies were walking through the ballroom. Lords bowed out of their way, many of whom followed the crown princess with looks of longing. “Marissa and I are friends, Baehlon. Nothing more.”
“No. You are friends with her, but she’s in love with you. You’re just too blind or foolish to see it.”
If not for the hypocrisy of that statement coming from Baehlon, Rhoane would’ve been insulted. Baehlon had been in love with Faelara, and she with him, for far too long, yet neither one would admit to it.
“You’ve got a choice to make, my friend. Where do your loyalties lie? With Marissa or with Taryn? You can’t play both sides of this war or you’ll be the one left for dead on the battlefield.”
Damn the man and his honesty.
Chapter Thirty-One
Lliandra raged at Taryn for the better part of two bells. She paced around the room, shouting at times or whispering in a deadly voice at others. Taryn’s replies varied from Yes, Your Majesty. I’m sorry, Your Majesty, to Yes, Mother. I’m so sorry, Mother. Lliandra had demanded Taryn use the moniker, and her tongue tripped around the unfamiliar word. Nothing placated the angry empress. At one point, Taryn was certain the woman would throw her out the window into the sea below.
Finally, Lliandra calmed down enough to glare at Taryn. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”
Dizzy from hunger and her head swimming with the ill effects of her hangover, Taryn replied a bit too sullenly. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? How lovely! I wish I could use that as an excuse. Let me see…Empress Lliandra, why has your daughter made a mockery of my son and messenger in front of the entire court? I’m sorry, King Stephan, but I don’t know.” Lliandra moved her face a hair’s width from Taryn’s. “You damn well better know. I thought I made it very clear to you yesterday that whatever problem you have with Prince Rhoane, you were to resolve it.”
“Yes, ma’am, you did.”
“And you thought the best way to do that would be to dance with everyone else in the room but him?”
“I didn’t think about that.”
“I’m afraid to ask what it was you did think about.”
Taryn met her angry stare and said in a clear voice, “I thought about myself, which I see now was wrong. I wanted to have some fun.” Her anger fumed within, making it difficult to control her power. “I’m sure you remember what it’s like to be a young woman and have men fawn over you. I liked it. I felt beautiful for once in my life.”
Lliandra scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean? Of course you’re beautiful. You’re my daughter, for Ohlin’s sake. You don’t need a bunch of libidinous boys to tell you that! Look in a mirror, you fool!”
Taryn took a deep, calming breath. “Yes, Mother, I’ll do that.”
Lliandra’s hand cracked across Taryn’s cheek with enough force to rattle her teeth. “Never speak to me in that tone.” Lliandra’s ShantiMari streaked around her body.
No one had ever struck Taryn before, and she trembled where she sat, frightened to her core. She put a hand to her cheek, feeling the stinging warmth, tasting blood in her mouth.
“I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. Please, just tell me how I can make it better, and I will,” Taryn pleaded.
Lliandra’s Mari subsided, and it alarmed Taryn even more how quickly the empress could summon and dismiss that much power. “What’s done is done. I’ve been commanded by King Stephan to bring you to the Narthvier, and Janeira will be traveling with us. I expect you to be cordial to her and, if at all possible, win her over with your charms.” Lliandra’s tone made it clear she doubted Taryn had any.
Taryn stood to go. “Thank you, Mother. I will do my best.”
“Sit down. That boy you were with last night—Lord Aomori. Did you fuck him?”
Shocked by the crass question, Taryn stammered, “No, of course not! Why would you ask such a thing?”
Lliandra studied her a moment too long. “I have it on good authority that you did. You were in the gardens for quite some time.”
“Nothing happened, I swear.”
Lliandra’s face relaxed a fraction. “I have ways of finding the truth, so do not lie to me.”
“I promise you,” Taryn said with a slight break in her voice, “I did not have sex with Lord Aomori or any other man last night or any other time in my life. I am still a virgin.” Her body trembled with anger and disgust. With forced deep breaths, she held her ShantiMari in check, just barely.
“It would be best if you didn’t make it a habit to go wandering through the grounds late at night with a boy you hardly know. And you should really learn to control your wine. I also heard that Sir Baehlon had to escort you to your rooms last night. I expect more from you, Princess Taryn.”
“I’ll remember that, thank you.” She bowed her head in defeat. “There are so many rules to this princess thing. Is there a guidebook or something to make sure I don’t mess up again?”
To her astonishment, Lliandra laughed, a full-bellied laugh that made Taryn nervous. “Oh, you are a prize. Of course, you wouldn’t know not to traipse around with strange men. Sometimes I forget you were raised as an Offlander. I only wish Brandt had better prepared you for this life.”
“You and me both.” Taryn couldn’t feel any more miserable. The slight against Brandt left her battered and drained. She wanted nothing more than to crawl back to her room a
nd sleep for the rest of her life.
Lliandra rose, indicating Taryn do the same. “I’ll send someone to instruct you on court etiquette. You’ve much to learn before we reach the Narthvier. King Stephan is not as forgiving as I.” She kissed Taryn on each cheek before waving her off.
Taryn mumbled a goodbye, thanking her again—for what, she wasn’t sure. Not killing her, perhaps? Then, just before Taryn reached the door, Lliandra said in a nonchalant tone, “Duke Anje will be returning to Paderau today. He’ll be taking Hayden and the other young lords with him.”
A fissure in the dam that kept her anger in check threatened to buckle, to release all of her rage. She pressed her nails into her palms, focused on the pain, eased her anger. “You’re sending Hayden away? Why?”
“We’ll be traveling through Paderau on our way north. There are preparations to be made. Besides, I can’t have any distractions around while Janeira is here. We need King Stephan’s support, Taryn.”
“But I don’t understand. Hayden did nothing wrong.” Lliandra gave Taryn a look that said to leave it rest, but Taryn pushed. “Who told you that I was with Aomori?”
Lliandra made a show of straightening her gown, a frown creasing the Mari she carefully kept in place. “It pains me to tell you this, my dove. I know you and Sabina have grown close over the last few weeks.”
“Sabina?” Taryn barely whispered the name. No. She wouldn’t, couldn’t have said anything. Sabina was with Taryn most of the night; she knew nothing had happened. And then it clicked. Marissa. That scheming, duplicitous bitch had lied to Lliandra. “But why?” Taryn faked a hurt tone.
“Darling, isn’t it obvious? She’s in love with him.” Lliandra took Taryn’s hands in her own. “I know this will be difficult, but you mustn’t blame your friend. In fact, it would be best if you didn’t say anything to her about all of this. As far as I’m concerned, it never happened. Aomori would make an excellent match for a girl like Sabina. We should do everything in our power to help her.”
The Stones of Resurrection Page 29