The Challenge: Circle of Conspiracy Trilogy (Artesans Series Book 4)

by Cas Peace

  Jinella’s father died of the winter flux when she was fourteen, and her mother immediately left the estate and took her young daughter back to Loxton Province, to live with her own relatives. Although wealthy enough, she lacked connections and Jinella’s prospects looked slim. But then Elias married Lerric’s daughter, Princess Sofira, and Jinella’s uncle, the Princess’s confidante, became an influential figure at court. The eighteen-year-old Jinella was fast learning the intricacies of society, and she had quickly decided she was not going to marry some minor noble’s useless third or fourth son: not when her uncle was the High Queen’s chief advisor. She knew that if she could persuade him to champion her, her looks and intelligence would attract a much better class of suitor.

  Since attaining her majority a year ago, Jinella had badgered her mother to write to Reen and beg him to introduce her at court. Jinella’s mother had never trusted Reen and was loath to approach him. Jinella refused to give up and finally, out of frustration, her mother gave in and sent a letter to court. Reen was none too eager to champion the girl at first as he had never approved of his northern sister-by-marriage, and considered his niece to be thoroughly spoiled.

  However, when he finally met the adult Jinella, he revised his opinion. She was intelligent and pretty and, as she had hoped, he realized that securing a good match for her would reflect well on him. Position, money, and power were vitally important to Reen. To Jinella’s delight, he secured the Queen’s blessing, arranged rooms for Jinella within the castle, and brought her to court.

  Since her arrival three weeks ago, she had been the model of decorum. Her uncle had reluctantly loaned her his coach two days ago so she could collect some gowns from her mother’s house, and had arranged for Captain Hallian to guard her. He was furious when she told him of the incident in the forest, but it seemed he was less angry over the attack on her person, or even his valuable coach, than he was at hearing that her saviors were Artesans. When she told him that one of them was the famed Colonel Sullyan, he was horrified and very nearly physically sick.

  She went on to blithely announce that not only did she expect him to reward her rescuers, but she also intended to spend the day of the fair with one of them. She simply couldn’t understand why her uncle’s revulsion nearly overwhelmed him.

  She didn’t have time to puzzle over the reason, however, for he visited her chamber later that evening and told her that he would give his permission for Captain Elijah to escort her on one condition. She was to get as much information out of the man as possible.

  Not having a devious nature, she refused point-blank. She was genuinely drawn to the handsome Captain and, although he was not what she had in mind for a future husband, he would certainly do as an escort. Looks and a gallant disposition were acceptable enough when the alternative was not having an escort at all.

  The resulting argument was fierce.

  Her uncle made it quite clear that he would not tolerate her forming more than a passing acquaintance with anyone who practiced “unnatural acts.” He told her bluntly that her inheritance, which he had control of, was forfeit if she took her interest in this man any further. He had no objection to her amusing herself briefly with him provided she obtained as much information from him as she could. As far as Reen was concerned, she would obey him or risk everything. He left her seething with indignation.

  Now, mulling over this outrageously patronizing interview, Jinella allowed the rhythmic movements of Lily’s brush to soothe her. How dare her uncle try to manipulate her! She had no intention of doing what he wanted; at least no further than her own curiosity warranted. She would decide what, if anything, she passed on to him, and she knew she could dissemble well enough to convince him he was getting all she knew. She refused to be controlled by him and considered his using her fortune against her a very base act.

  Having decided to go her own way, she glanced in the mirror and approved Lily’s work. She chose her gown with care, seeing no reason why it should not both flatter her figure and impress her escort.

  She heard the light tap on her door around the middle of the morning. The maid showed the Captain in and invited him to wait in the luxurious small drawing room while her lady completed her preparations.

  Jinella observed her visitor from behind the partially closed door, exchanging whispered comments with Lily about his looks and person. Lily was apt to giggle, so Jinella kept some of her more intimate observations private. She was unwilling to admit, even to herself, just how attractive she found him.

  She was thoroughly looking forward to having him to herself for the day, and was determined to break through his polite but formal manner just as soon as she could. After all, she was attractive, witty, and good company. He had no reason not to fall for her charms. Who knew where it might lead? She had not yet experienced a physical relationship with a man, but was perfectly willing to be persuaded that she should. Her uncle’s completely unreasonable veto only served to heighten her curiosity.

  With pleasurable anticipation, she drew back from the door, took one last look in her mirror, cautioned Lily not to get in the way of her fun, and swept regally into the drawing room.

  Taran stood and made a small bow. “Lady Jinella,” he said politely.

  Jinella was pleased to see that he noticed her careful preparations. She had elected to wear her bronze satin gown with its low-cut bodice and short ruffled sleeves. Lily was carrying the matching fringed parasol, which Jinella would definitely need once the sun reached its height. About her neck she had fastened an expensive gold necklace with flat polished links that would catch and reflect the sun, drawing attention to her creamy skin. Her only other adornment, apart from her rings, was a pair of diamond earrings.

  Taran was appraising her much as she had evaluated him, and she was sure he could appreciate her appeal when compared to Colonel Sullyan’s more delicate features. Jinella was taller than the Colonel and, she had to admit, more robustly built, although she would have fainted with outrage had anyone used the word “robust” in her hearing. Jinella was perfectly proportioned and possessed all the appropriate curves. How could her escort resist?

  She held out a slender hand and he gallantly took it, raising it briefly to his lips. Jinella’s heart fluttered. “I hope you have plenty of energy today after your heroism in the forest, Captain. There are many fascinating stalls and displays to enjoy at the fair, and as I have never attended one here before, I want to see it all.”

  He inclined his head. “Then we have something in common, my Lady, for I have never attended such an occasion either. My village held a fete with its neighbors once a year, but that was on a very small scale.”

  She smiled winningly and touched his arm. “As we are to be companions for the day, I think we might be a little less formal, don’t you? My name is Jinella, or Jinny if you prefer. And you are Taran. Is that right?”

  “Yes, my … Jinella,” he amended, flushing.

  Oh, he was so sweet! This was going to be a very good day. Her smile widened. “That’s better. Now we can behave like friends, as I hope we are. For I owe you a debt, Taran, and if I can repay you even a little with my friendship, that will make me happy. Shall we go?”

  She linked arms with him and left the suite, Lily trotting behind.

  Chapter Nine

  Sullyan had not risen early that morning as Taran had thought. She had not answered his light tap at the door because she was in no state to do so.

  Waking at her customary hour, she had lain still in her bed, trying to control the violent nausea roiling in her stomach. Uncharacteristically losing the battle, she succumbed to the wracking spasm in the suite’s small privy. White and shaking, with a numbing lassitude spreading through her bones, she returned to bed to let it pass.

  The incident frightened her. It was not the first time over the last few months she had woken feeling unwell, but it was the first time she had been unable to control it. As an Artesan, she was never ill, and so was ill equipped to deal wi
th it. The poison of Rykan’s seed had caused her similar symptoms. Although she had long since purged his poison, she still feared the damage it had wrought. Rykan’s physical presence had caused the symptoms to worsen, and her vast Artesan powers had been useless against the pain. So it was now, and she had no idea why.

  A couple of cups of bitter fellan and a brief talk with Taran at breakfast improved things. She had an appointment with King Elias that morning and could do without the distraction of ill health. After dressing simply in a light cotton shirt and dark breeches, she waited in the anteroom to Elias’s private audience chamber, thankful that the affliction seemed to have passed.

  The anteroom was not as luxurious as she might have expected, but it did have comfortable chairs, rugs on the floor, and a vast stone fireplace where giant logs would blaze in wintertime. There were four large windows with thick leaded glass, through which she could see the gaily colored tents of the fair. Even at this distance the sound of crowds gathering was unmistakable. Sullyan sat and watched the far-off figures moving about the fairground.

  A small, furtive sound suddenly caught her ear. Glancing at the metal-studded door, which was slightly ajar, she caught a flash of movement behind it. It seemed that someone was lurking outside. She sat still and silent, waiting for whoever it was to show themselves.

  Another sound reached her ears. Was it a murmur of protest or a low moan? She heard receding footsteps and wondered if the person had left. Then the door began to move, slowly opening further into the room. She still couldn’t see who was there; they must be standing by the wall and pushing the door with a hand or foot. She waited.

  Eventually, the door was wide open. She could see right down the hallway leading to the private apartments, where she and the other guests were housed. Still the mystery person did not appear. She briefly considered rising and going to the door, but then decided against it. She waited. She could hear the soft shuffling of feet by the wall, as if whoever stood there was unsure of their welcome.

  On impulse, she said softly, “Enter, if you will. I do not bite.”

  There was the hint of a giggle, a childish sound. She knew it could not be the King’s little daughter, as she had seen both his children taken to the fair by their nursemaids. As far as she knew, there were no other children in the castle. Perhaps it was some servant child encouraged by the holiday atmosphere to try for a forbidden look at the King’s private rooms.

  “Would you like to come and sit with me?” she said, keeping her voice soft.

  There was another brief shuffle and then a head appeared abruptly round the door. She was startled.

  Her visitor was not a child, but a youth. His age was not immediately apparent. He had a bright shock of wild red hair, but this was not what caught her attention. It was his face. His light skin was freckled all over, but his eyes were wrong. They were mismatched; one was dark blue and the other honey-brown. They were also unevenly set, one higher than the other. And he had a squint. But the smile on his face was engaging and she returned it.

  “Hello,” she said.

  His grin broadened, showing uneven teeth. “’Lo,” he slurred, his voice thick and immature. He sidled awkwardly round the doorframe, never taking his eyes off her as if he thought she might pounce on him. She felt surprise when his body was revealed.

  He had a crooked back, his right shoulder deformed into a hump which caused his body to slouch. He also had a club left foot, which accounted for the shuffling. He was older than she had first thought too, probably in his mid-twenties. He was clearly nervous and approached her shyly. She schooled her expression to interested pleasure.

  “What are you called?” she asked.

  He frowned. His tongue came out of the side of his mouth and a thin trickle of saliva ran down his chin. Then his odd eyes cleared and took on a sly expression.

  “You tell first!”

  “Very well,” she agreed, “but promise to tell me your name after.”

  He took a great leap toward her. “Promise!” he cried. He landed awkwardly and caught up her left hand. His grip was unnaturally strong and he squeezed her hand painfully, completely oblivious to her discomfort. Not wanting to upset him by protesting, she used metaforce to dampen the pain.

  He frowned as her eyes dilated with the expenditure of power. “Name!” he demanded, giving her hand another squeeze.

  “My name is Brynne,” she said.

  He dropped her hand as if it burned him. “Brynne?” He crouched down in front of her, bringing his uneven face level with hers. “Brynne?”

  “Yes,” she said, “Brynne. Now, what is yours?”

  A latch clicked as the door opposite the hallway opened. A loud voice thundered “HUW!” and the red-headed lad leaped to his feet, shrieking in fear. He stumbled backward into the door.

  King Elias strode into the room. “What are you doing here, Huw?”

  The boy cringed against the door as if he feared Elias would strike him. He began to cry. Sullyan rose and moved closer, frowning at the scene.

  “We were just making each other’s acquaintance, your Majesty,” she said, coming close to the trembling Huw and putting out her hand. Huw grabbed it and clutched it to his chest. She could feel the panicked beat of his heart.

  Elias looked down at her. “I’m sorry about this, Brynne. I hope he’s not being a nuisance. I’m afraid Huw doesn’t really know what he’s doing. The city constabulary found him running wild a couple of years ago and didn’t know what to do with him. He seemed to have no family. Someone brought him to the Queen’s attention and she took pity on him. I think she hoped one of her physicians might be able to help him, but it looks like he’s a hopeless case. They all say he was born deformed, and that his brain is damaged. He behaves like a four-year-old child. He’s harmless enough and my daughter seems to like him, so Sofira keeps him around to amuse her. I don’t know how he got up here, though. Normally he’s confined to the nursery wing.

  “You know you’re not supposed to be in here, Huw, don’t you?” he said, raising his voice as if the boy was deaf.

  Huw seemed to have forgotten his fright. He dropped Sullyan’s hand, made a rude face at Elias, and sidled round the door. “Pretty,” he slurred. “Pretty Brynne.”

  “Yes, Huw, I know she is. Now, you run along to the fair. I expect Seline and Eadan are wondering where you are.”

  The names of the King’s children had an electric effect on the lad, and his face transformed with delight. Stumbling into the hallway, he broke into a shambling run.

  Elias turned back to Sullyan, sympathy on his face. “Poor lad. He dotes on my children, and especially my son. I don’t think there’s any harm in him, but he doesn’t seem to understand how strong he is. The nursemaids daren’t let him get too close in case he hurts Eadan. They’re a bit frightened of him, I think. Did he hurt you?”

  “No, your Majesty, of course not.” She glanced down the hallway, but the lad had disappeared. “He seemed very lonely, somehow.”

  Elias sighed. “Yes, I suppose he must be. He has no real friends, only people who tolerate him. I keep telling Sofira to find him somewhere more suitable, but she’s determined to keep him. I think she hopes that adult company will work some miracle on his simple mind.”

  As Elias turned from the doorway and ushered Sullyan into the audience chamber, she asked, “Has an Artesan ever tried to help him?”

  The King glanced at her. “Do you think you could?”

  “I have no idea, your Majesty. I could try.”

  Elias dropped into an easy chair and gestured for Sullyan to take another. “You can drop the formality now, Brynne, we’re both off duty.” He gave her a mock-stern stare. “Only an hour ago I learned that you’ve had the temerity to enter my horse race as a rival. I think we can deal with each other on equal terms, don’t you?”

  She gave him an impish look. “As you wish, Elias. Have you by any chance placed a bet on me? You should, although I doubt you will get such good odds as Owyn
Denny.”

  He stared at her in astonishment for a moment before roaring with laughter.

  *****

  Taran quickly discovered what good company Jinella could be, and he enjoyed escorting her round the fair more than he thought he would. Lily stayed a few paces behind her mistress, and Taran gradually forgot about her. As neither he nor Jinny knew anyone at court, they were unmolested as they strolled around the booths and trade stands, admiring the wares for sale. They watched the displays and entertainments, and soon discovered that there were also arms competitions taking place. Jinella tried very hard to persuade Taran to enter one, but he steadfastly refused. He used his scarcely healed injury and his desire to relax and enjoy her company as his reasons. While flattered by the latter, as he intended, she was nevertheless piqued that she would not have the pleasure of basking in the reflected glory of his undoubted success. She appealed to his pride in his skill as a means of persuasion, but he was unshakeable.

  “Do you really want to see me lose because my sword arm isn’t up to full strength?” he asked. Pouting, she let it drop.

  One thing she did not let drop was his hand. She had clasped it very early on in the day, saying the crowds made her nervous. Taran, resigned, allowed her to guide him about like a puppy on a leash. She chattered incessantly and seemed to have an insatiable curiosity. He answered her many questions as best he could. He had already exhausted his early life and background, and then she started on his talents.

  As they stood side by side watching a display of horsemanship by some of the King’s Guard, she asked him, “How long have you been an Artesan, Taran?”