“Why do they find such pleasure in chasing a giant, tusked pig?” Faelara asked no one in particular. “Although, they are delicious, I will admit.”
“Where’s Marissa?” Sabina asked, scanning the crowd. “She never misses the hunt.”
“I hear she is abed with a stomach ailment,” Faelara offered.
“She said Mother won’t let her ride this year because she’s the heir. Something about being too old,” Taryn said.
“Most likely she’s upset the empress claimed her lordling.” Sabina indicated the young man riding beside Lliandra. It was the handsome man they’d seen with Marissa. His velvet brocade jacket matched Lliandra’s, and around his neck, he wore a satin scarf of the same icy hue.
“Oh look, she’s given him a collar. How sweet for her pet.” Sabina’s tone held an edge Rhoane had never heard and Taryn glanced at her friend.
“Surely you’re not jealous?” Taryn asked.
“Of him? Hardly. He’s a minor noble from some backwater town west of Haversham. His parents are importers of gems from the Artagh, which is why, I’m certain, Lliandra is smitten with him. No, what irritates me is the way your mother and sister compete for flesh as if the owner of said body has no say in the matter.”
“It looked to me like he volunteered for the position.”
“They always do,” Sabina said sadly.
Taryn looked questioningly at Rhoane.
“It is a great honor to be the empress’s concubine. Even more so if you can produce an heir with her. If he is successful, his family will be well rewarded. If he fails, he will most likely never return home.”
Sabina snorted and Faelara wrapped an arm around the girl.
“Lliandra tried to seduce my brother once, but he declined. She never forgave him.” Sabina stomped the ground with her slipper and turned away with a twitch to her lips.
“Do you think that is why she’s placing the taxes on her country’s products?” Taryn queried.
“It is possible,” Rhoane mused. He’d forgotten about the incident with Sabina’s family, but that had been ten seasons past. Surely Lliandra had moved beyond her petty anger. The empress placed a possessive hand on the young lord while speaking to another noble. In truth, Rhoane wouldn’t put it past the empress to hold a grudge, waiting for the perfect moment to inflict her punishment.
Trumpets blared and Lliandra rode down the road surrounded by the victors she’d chosen, the young man close to her side. Rhoane felt a momentary sadness for them. Lliandra’s love was nothing if not fickle, and while one of the men might sire a child for their empress, he would find cold comfort when she no longer had a use for him.
He gripped Taryn’s hand, once more thanking Verdaine for giving him the greatest gift possible. Let Lliandra have her many lovers; he needed no one but Taryn.
Chapter 17
RAIN slashed at the windows of Caer Idris, disturbing Valterys’s thoughts as he paced the floor of his study. The foul weather was certain to detain Marissa, if she came at all. His messages to her went unanswered—not unusual, but concerning nonetheless. Of course, she spied on him for Lliandra but the crown princess had her own agenda as well. The business with Kaldaar brought them closer in unexpected ways Valterys wasn’t ready to examine. Marissa had yet to tell him the exact nature of her part in the scheme with Kaldaar’s minion. He had to be careful. More importantly, he needed to stay focused and discern the truth in her carefully constructed lies.
It amused the Lord of the Dark she was so very like him. All the long seasons he spent with Lliandra at the Crystal Court weren’t solely to produce an heir. He’d taken the time to foster a relationship with Marissa that had continued after his affair with the empress ended. He was the father she never had, she the daughter Lliandra forbade him from having. He spoiled Marissa not with coin, but attention. Their relationship benefitted them both.
Until recently, Valterys thought, his pulse racing at the memory of Marissa’s creamy skin beneath his the last time he saw her in Talaith. She’d been frantic over the loss of her beloved Celia. They both were. Neither had expected Taryn to defeat the phantom at the Stones. For her own reasons, Marissa hadn’t warned Valterys that morning when Lliandra and her guard rushed out of the palace to save the Summerlands princess. Although, even if she had, he couldn’t have followed. There was no way he would’ve been able to explain his presence. It was difficult enough to sneak into her rooms that night to console her. She’d lain in her bed sobbing while he cradled her in his arms.
Of course later, when she’d finally drifted to sleep, he’d snuck away and spied his daughter with her betrothed on the battlements. They were discussing, of all things, a visit to him—or Zakael. Which fit his plans perfectly.
A crack of lightning startled Valterys and he swore at the dismal sky. Wintertide at Caer Idris was miserable. Courtiers and hangers-on kept the palace a hive of activity, but he missed the heady celebrations at Celyn Eryri. Long ago, there were similar games held at mid-summer, but his grandfather’s grandfather did away with the tradition and no one had seen fit to revive the Dark Celebrations.
When he and Lliandra were coupled, Valterys would spend two moonturns with her at the snow palace, drinking until the wee hours and singing songs of Light and Dark. Since then, Wintertide was nothing more than a time of contempt for the Overlord of the West. There could be no Light without Dark and no darkness without light. Valterys scoffed at the ancient saying. Life was indeed dark without his Lliandra.
A knock at the door disturbed him from his thoughts. When he turned toward his visitor, his pulse quickened to see the crown princess enter the room. She flung her damp cloak over a chair before curtseying demurely.
“My dear lord, I’m terribly sorry it has taken me this long to get away. Mother had a feast planned every night and I only just slipped past her guards.”
Warmth from her lips lingered on his cheek. Her musky scent filled his nostrils. “You look lovely tonight. I trust the weather wasn’t too ghastly.” He poured her wine, enjoying the way she held her glass, touching her lips to the rim before taking a sip. Her pale throat contracted and released once and then twice before she spoke.
“What is so urgent you needed to see me?”
Valterys pulled his gaze away from the delicateness of her skin. The closeness and intimacy they’d shared since the ordeal with Kaldaar had to stop. Things were different now and he didn’t like the effect she had on him.
“I’ll be visiting with our lord and want to be apprised of anything he may need to know. The girl? Has she mastered ShantiMari?”
A slight toss of her hair revealed her irritation at the mention of Taryn. Marissa detested the girl and it was intriguing to see her composure crack the slightest bit.
“My spies tell me she is adequate. You know I wasn’t at the Stones when she vanquished the phantom and even she insists it was her sword’s power, and not her own that managed to banish it. Which only proves what I’ve been saying all along. Her strength is not what it should be.”
“If you were the Eirielle, you mean.”
A flash lit her violet eyes before they softened. With a flirty swish to her hips, she moved in front of him, a look of challenge on her face. “If I were the Eirielle, we wouldn’t have to play these ridiculous games.” Her fingertips scratched down his tunic until they rested between his legs. With an expert touch, she caressed him, all the while tracking his response. “My offer still stands, Valterys. Light and Dark—we can make our own future.”
With effort, he kept his face placid and removed her hand. “There is but one Eirielle. I have already created her with Lliandra. Despite your hopes the child you carry will be another anomaly, all signs contradict this.”
Her confidence faltered but only for a moment. “I was unaware Zakael had told you.”
“What of the empress? Have you shared your news with her?” He bit back his bitter disappointment it was true. He’d hoped Zakael was wrong. He’d hoped he might be the one
to father Marissa’s child. And yes, he’d hoped they might create yet another Eirielle. The prophecies be damned.
A slight pinch to her mouth gave away her irritation. “We want to wait until it is born before we make any decisions. If it’s a girl, she will be raised in Talaith and if a boy, he will be raised at Gaarendahl.”
“Not here? So my son does not plan to usurp me when the child is born?”
“Of course not.”
“And Rykoto? You’ve promised yourself to him as his queen.”
“When the Eirielle is destroyed and I sit on my throne beside Rykoto, it won’t matter where my child is raised. Zakael can have him or my mother—it matters not to me.”
“You are so beautifully devious, my sweet girl.” His loins flamed and he cursed himself. Why did his match for cruelty have to be Lliandra’s daughter?
“It’s a gift.” She moved her hand to the top of his trousers, giving a slight tug. “Why won’t you share my bed? We could bring each other exquisite pleasure.”
“I’ve no doubt of that, but you carry my grandchild and are promised to my god. Despite your gifts, as you say, I’m not a foolish man.” He ran a thumb down her cheek, pulling at her lip. If not for Rykoto, he’d take her then, but he valued his life far more than a tryst with her. “I find, my darling, my needs are met in other ways, but I thank you for the compliment.”
“I do hope someday you will change your mind.” She took his thumb in her hot mouth and he struggled to keep himself in check. After several agonizing moments, she released him.
“As for news, tell Rykoto everything is moving according to plan. Mother has Taryn’s complete trust. I’ve convinced her to come to Gaarendahl where Zakael can help her control her Dark Shanti.”
Valterys nodded for her to continue; he knew all this.
“It seems Rykoto has access to Taryn’s mind and this terrifies her. He nearly drowned her.”
“Did he now?” Valterys kept his tone light. What was the god thinking?
“The beast that travels with her is quite canny at sniffing out harm aimed at Taryn. If you should ever encounter them, make certain you separate her from the hound.” She tapped her chin. “I think that’s all.”
“What of the Shadow Assassin? Have there been any more attacks?”
Marissa’s eyes narrowed. “He has not been seen for many moonturns. The rumors persist that you or Zakael are behind the attacks.”
“I would be surprised if they didn’t.” Nor did he doubt for a moment she was behind most of them. If nothing else, she delighted in causing chaos in Lliandra’s court. “Thank you, Princess, for coming to see me. Would you like to stay for the night, or must you return to your mother?”
She cocked her head to the side. “If I stay, can I watch you work?”
A delicious thrill ran through him. “It would be my honor.”
VALTERYS stood on his balcony until Marissa was little more than a speck in the predawn sky. Her interest in his work and her insight into improving his little games was addicting. Her enthusiasm for torture exceeded even Zakael’s lust for pain. Valterys shoved aside an image of his son with Marissa. The gods only knew what they did in the privacy of their bedchamber, and he chose to leave it that way. It was far safer if he didn’t think of her as anything other than an accomplice to his own plans.
Yet she made it near impossible not to think of her without wanting to touch the fragile skin of her wrist. To feel the blood rush through her veins, the beat of her heart when it grew excited. The first stirrings of need unsettled him and he checked the position of the sun before returning to his room to splash cold water on his face. His relationship with Marissa had been much simpler when all they’d wanted was to destroy Lliandra and use Taryn to do it.
If he hurried, he could reach Rykoto before the sun was too high over the horizon. He’d wasted precious time with the girl as it was—he didn’t need to further incite his god’s anger.
When all was in order, Valterys left Caer Idris for the frozen north. As he circled above the temple, he forced out all other thoughts, but what needed to be done. Rykoto was a demanding master. He had to be vigilant in his efforts to please the god. After he had laid the feast on the table, Valterys said to the empty air, “Great Lord, it is I, your humble servant, here to do your bidding.”
Flames rose from the floor, inching their way up the giant slab of marble, stained red from seasons of sacrifices. He forced himself to watch as the flames touched the naked flesh, recoiling with a hiss. Rykoto liked his meals fresh, but Marissa’s visit had hampered his preparations. A tentative thread reached out to pick off a piece of skin from the dead man’s leg. On and on it went until the bones were bare. Rykoto always left the heart for last. The flames rose, a moan of delight echoing throughout the dark temple.
Blood oozed from the purple organ as it sizzled beneath Rykoto’s flames. A peculiar warmth, not unlike the feeling of euphoria from making love, spread through Valterys when his god devoured the last of the sacrifice. His thoughts wandered to Marissa and he tamped down the traitorous image. Rykoto’s face appeared before him in the firewall and Valterys bent on one knee.
“My hunger grows. This lad was but a babe.”
The man was in his fortieth season and nearly too heavy for Valterys to bear during the flight. “Yes, my lord.” He would have to come twice as often to satisfy his strengthening lord. Damn.
“I do not favor the taste of rotting flesh.”
The man was twelve bells dead, if that. “Yes, my lord.” Valterys tensed against the expected punishment, but it did not come.
“What news have you? When will I be released from my prison?”
“The Eirielle has not yet mastered her Dark powers. She is leaving to train with my son in less than a fortnight. Once she bears the trinity, she will be ready.”
“And the other matter?”
It was always the same. “She is eager to sit at your side as your queen.”
The flames sparked once, then showed Marissa enter her rooms at Celyn Eryri. She tossed her gown aside and stood naked before a mirror, admiring herself, keeping a protective hand over her abdomen.
“She is with child. What folly is this?” The flames rose to the top of the temple, scorching the marble roof.
“If I may, my lord, the heir to the Light Throne is no stranger to men’s beds. I thought you valued this in her. As for the child, he is my grandson and will be of no concern to you or your queen.”
Marissa’s image danced in the flames. From the depths of the temple came Rykoto’s ghastly chuckle. “There is only one anomaly. You are fools to think otherwise. Do you try to subvert me?”
“No, Great Lord. The whims of the crown princess are her own. This child was not planned nor wanted by his mother. He will be raised at Caer Idris as my son’s heir.”
The flames subsided and Marissa disappeared from view. “I want the blood of her firstborn. Alive.”
Valterys fought the urge to vomit. He couldn’t conceive of letting Rykoto pick clean his grandson before eating his heart. “Of course, my lord.”
“Leave me. I have need of respite after my feeding.”
Valterys wavered, but his chance to ask Rykoto about the visions was gone. Flames licked at his boots and he sped from the temple to the sound of Rykoto’s mad laughter. His demands were getting out of control, but surely the lives of his two children were worth immortality.
Chapter 18
HAYDEN raced ahead of Taryn, calling her name and encouraging her to move faster. Her poor mare wasn’t made for racing and she soon fell behind. Hayden reined in his gelding, noting the snuffling he made. His mount wasn’t much better than Ashanni. He could remember when his father had purchased both of them, and he had to admit the season had long since passed when they were yearlings. A touch of heartache seized him at the memory. His brother had just celebrated his twelfth summer. The gelding was a gift for him.
That was long before he ever heard about the Eirielle or
knew about Valterys. They were days filled with sunshine and innocence.
“Come on!” Hayden urged, shoving his memories to the far reaches of his thoughts, where they dwelled with restrained misery. “We’ll be late, and I’d like to show you the rig before the race.”
They rode toward the field where Hayden’s race would be held. It was a perfect day for it too, with cloudless blue skies and crisp Wintertide air. Taryn urged Ashanni forward and the mare lunged ahead of Hayden.
“Hurry up, cousin! We’re going to be late,” she called after him. He kicked his horse and nearly overtook her before they came to the track. Taryn slid from the saddle. “I hope you fare better than that on the course today.”
“You cheated!” Hayden laughed and took her by the arm to escort her to the makeshift stables where he had a surprise for her. The empress had personally selected the horses for the day’s event. All Ullan beasts of fine stock.
As they walked among them, Taryn whistled. “Mother wasn’t kidding when she said only the finest would do. These are beautiful horses.” Taryn stroked the muzzle of a tall stallion, his cream body offset by a long, black wavy mane and tail. “I don’t recall seeing them at the palace. Are they kept here all year?”
“These were recently purchased from a desert tribe in the East while you were away on your secret mission.” He winked at her.
“Don’t tease. I’ll tell you all the boring details someday, but right now I’d like to hear more about these desert people who breed such gorgeous creatures.”
“Nope, not right now. First, I want to take you for a ride over the course.” He motioned to a stable hand and led her out to the freshly laid track. “You see here? They’ve run a sledge over the snow so the riders know where to go and there,” he pointed off into the distance, “see the flags? That’s how we know where to turn in case the path isn’t visible.”
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